After coming out of the Department of the Treasury, Arthur had no intention of stopping there.
A phone call from Buffett indeed carried a lot of weight, but Washington had more than just one Department of the Treasury.
Moreover, he was no longer that Arthur whom Salomon could blackball with a single phone call.
That very night, that congressman from the House of Representatives Committee on Banking chuckled after listening to what he had to say on the phone.
"Arthur, that old man in Omaha is formidable, I admit that. But surely he cannot vote on behalf of the entire Congress?"
"The hearings will proceed as scheduled. I still have over a dozen people on my side, and the folks from those Detroit companies have also said that it doesn't matter how much money it takes."
"They have long found the Japanese displeasing to the eye; you just focus on getting the materials ready."
The next day, an old friend in the Department of Defense procurement system also returned his phone call.
The other party had little interest in Salomon, but was quite willing to take another look at the shares of those technology companies that Saionji had bought in the United States over the past few years.
Arthur rearranged the timetable for his contingency plan.
If the Department of the Treasury route wouldn't work, then let Congress go first.
Then, it was September 26th.
That noon, in his office, he watched the news clips of Salomon's special shareholders' meeting.
Saionji Satsuki stood behind the podium at the Waldorf Astoria, and in front of hundreds of shareholders, demanded that Gutfreund's management take responsibility, while also proposing that Buffett serve as interim chairman.
Finally, she also said a sentence.
"Saionji is not seeking control of Salomon. Salomon remains an American company, managed by American management, and subject to American laws and regulations."
Arthur looked at the screen and didn't move for a long time.
This single sentence completely disrupted his plan.
He even suspected whether that damned girl had known long ago that someone would make a move from here.
What the Committee on Foreign Investment reviewed was foreign control over American enterprises.
With an American as chairman, American management running it, and foreign capital publicly relinquishing control, for such a transaction, the review committee couldn't even find a reason to demand a filing.
As for Congress, how could a congressman question Warren Buffett at a hearing? Would he ask him if he was helping the Japanese buy out Wall Street?
That afternoon, that congressman from the Banking Committee indeed called to ask whether the topic of the hearing should be changed.
Arthur looked at the contingency plan on his desk and replied after a long time.
"Let's put it aside for now."
He originally thought that things had reached the worst at this stage.
Until one night in early October, when he was called into the West Wing of the White House.
The one who called him over was that old gentleman who had been secretly backing him all these years.
Back when he was able to transfer from the SEC into the White House, this person had spoken on his behalf; later, his ability to firmly secure the position of Special Assistant to the President was also inseparable from this person's care and guidance.
But this time the old gentleman did not invite him to sit, but merely took a piece of paper from the drawer and pushed it to the edge of the desk.
"The Highlander, you know it, right?"
"The Forbes family's yacht."
"In late September, the second day after Saionji Satsuki arrived in New York, it sailed out from Pier 62 and circled around New York Harbor for an entire afternoon."
Arthur picked up that piece of paper.
It was a guest list.
David Rockefeller, Katharine Graham, Laurence Tisch, Alan Greenberg, Henry Kravis, John Whitehead, Warren Buffett.
And then Henry Kissinger.
The last line of the list read Saionji Satsuki.
"Buffett brought her aboard."
The old gentleman leaned back into his chair.
"I heard that no one talked business on the boat that day. Everyone played bridge for an afternoon, and the losers donated money to charities designated by the winners."
Arthur stared at those names.
The boss of The Washington Post, the boss of CBS, Bear Stearns, KKR, the former co-chairman of Goldman Sachs, and someone who had served as Deputy Secretary of State.
The newspaper delivered to his doorstep every morning was run by the people on this list.
"That is indeed the rule of that kind of people."
"Yes, they never talk business on a boat."
The old gentleman looked at him.
"They usually decide on a boat who they will talk business with in the future."
Arthur did not respond.
"That evening, the two of them, Henry and she, chatted for a long time at the stern of the boat."
Arthur raised his head.
"What did they talk about?"
"I don't know."
The old gentleman's fingers tapped on the armrest.
"I only know that last Tuesday Henry invited a few people to dinner in New York, and I was sitting right across from him."
"During the dinner, he asked a question: back then, who recommended that young man from the SEC into the White House?"
The office quieted down.
"He didn't mention your name, nor did he need to."
Arthur's fingers tightened bit by bit around that guest list.
He was no political novice; he understood what Kissinger meant by this.
The June 27 incident could not possibly be hidden from that man.
He didn't know how much Kissinger actually knew, nor did he know what that Japanese girl had said to him at the stern.
This was not something he could dare to ask about.
"...What does he want to do?"
"If Henry really wanted to do something, you wouldn't be standing here today."
The old gentleman sighed.
"He just asked a question. But after this question was passed back to Washington, do you know how many people have called me this week?"
He reached out his hand and counted one by one.
"Those folks from Texas called first. Over half of the oil fields that Saionji acquired around Midland and Houston are in their constituencies."
"What kind of place Midland is, I don't need to remind you, right? When the President was young, that's where he drilled oil wells."
"Then there are the logistics folks at the Pentagon. S.A. Global Engineering and Logistics Rescue Group transported supplies and evacuated wounded soldiers for them in the Gulf War, and they are currently negotiating a long-term contract."
"They came to ask me whether the White House has any opinions about this company, and by the way, whether it has any opinions about the Pentagon."
"Someone from Carlyle also called over."
He put his hand down.
"Arthur, not a single one of these people cares about Salomon. They only want to know one thing—whether someone in the White House is trying to give Saionji a hard time."
"So even you want me to stop."
"I want you to keep your office."
The old gentleman took back the guest list, folded it twice, and put it back into the drawer.
"As for Saionji's affairs, stop for now, and don't think about it anymore in the future."
"As for Salomon's affairs, starting today it has nothing to do with you anymore. Over at Congress, I've already had people send word."
Arthur stood there, opening his mouth.
"But if we stop now, in the future—"
"Arthur."
The old gentleman interrupted him.
"Back when you were at the SEC, you could freeze one billion dollars of hers with a special directive. At that time, she had nothing in America except money."
"And now?"
Arthur did not reply.
The old gentleman didn't wait for his reply either, and lowered his head to open another document on the desk.
"Go back, and try not to show up at other people's dinner tables recently."
After that day, that congressman from the Banking Committee never called again.
That old friend at the Department of Defense—his secretary always said he had gone out to a meeting.
This contingency plan on Arthur's knees thus remained stuck on the first page...
The sound from the television suddenly became a bit louder.
After the financial program finished broadcasting a segment of stock market conditions, the host switched to a new piece of news. The screen cut to Sacramento, and the white dome of the California State Capitol appeared in the footage.
Arthur raised his head.
A row of people stood below the steps of the building's portico. The camera zoomed in, and right in the middle was the Governor of California, who was extending his hand to shake hands with the young girl in a light gray suit beside him.
Both of them smiled very happily.
The governor's other hand rested on the back of her hand, shaking for a long time toward the sea of cameras below the steps before finally letting go.
A subtitle scrolled across the bottom of the screen.
"Saionji's Largest-Scale Investment in the U.S. — Central California Coast Industrial Park and Deep-Water Port Project"
The host's voice read along.
The industrial park will be centered around the land surrounding an army base in San Luis Obispo County, with the first phase of construction scheduled to begin next year, and the state government expecting it to bring thousands of jobs to the local area.
"Saionji's side also stated that the group's North American headquarters will also be built there."
The footage immediately cut away, replaced by an architectural rendering.
By the twilight bay, a pitch-black tower rose abruptly from the ground.
The factories, cranes, and cargo ships along the shore were crammed together at its feet, and the hills behind it were compressed until only a faint outline remained.
Below the top of the tower glowed a white Saionji Family crest.
"This is the conceptual design of the North American headquarters released by Saionji today."
The host's tone was noticeably more excited than before.
"Saionji's headquarters building in Odaiba, Tokyo, is about five hundred meters high and will be officially put into use next year. According to insiders, the height of this one in North America will not be lower than Tokyo's."
"If the news is true, it will surpass Chicago's Sears Tower and become the tallest building in the entire United States."
Seeing this, Arthur clenched the folder in his hand tightly.
The corners of the cardboard folded down in his palm.
That tower in Tokyo—he had seen it in briefings.
On the reclaimed land of Odaiba, that building grew taller year by year, and behind every briefing regarding Saionji, a newly taken photo was attached.
Only he had never imagined that one day it would grow into America.
And in fact, Saionji had indeed grown deep roots inside America.
New York, California, and then Texas.
The energy assets that Saionji acquired around Midland and Houston had resumed operations.
Local governments needed tax revenue, and oil fields needed employment.
Pipelines, equipment, maintenance, and transportation companies were all making money from these projects.
Not to mention that the president currently sitting in the White House inherently had intricate ties with Texas.
Wall Street was even more direct.
Saionji had just used its own money and reputation to prop up Salomon.
Buffett had also stepped in.
Those financial institutions that originally only regarded Saionji as a Japanese client would now begin to seriously consider how much business they could do with it in the future.
Moving to the other side, even the anti-Saionji base was no longer solid.
Carlyle.
The Pentagon.
Those overseas logistics contracts that had already landed.
Those military-industrial assets waiting for Saionji's next sum of money.
Silicon Valley went without saying; that was Saionji's earliest investment in the United States.
Cisco, Qualcomm, Microsoft... plus a batch of small companies that hadn't even gone public and whose names outsiders hadn't even heard of.
Saionji was already their shareholder.
And now, wonderfully, even the California local government began to look forward to its staying.
Billions of dollars in large-scale investment, thousands of jobs, an entire new industrial zone.
Arthur gave a dry chuckle.
He felt that if he were a California official, there was simply no reason to refuse such terms.
At this moment, someone from the White House jumps out and says, don't cooperate with that Japanese girl?
Good lord, he swore he would send that guy to meet God...
He remembered again what that man sitting on the sofa opposite him had said a few months ago.
— When would a "whole America" appear?
At that time, Arthur felt that sentence was too exaggerated.
He had thought it was just a matter that needed time to persuade.
Now, these forces seemed to have truly united—only they had united on Saionji's side.
Whoever dared to make a move against Saionji again, Wall Street would call, the Pentagon would call, Texas and California would call, and finally someone would make a phone call straight into the president's office.
At this point, moving against Saionji was no different from moving against America itself.
If someone were to swing a knife at Saionji again, whose interests would be the first to be sliced open?
Even the people on his side, those congressmen and old friends who had patted their chests back then saying they would fight the Japanese to the end, now wouldn't even answer his calls.
On the screen, the young girl had already let go of the governor's hand and turned to nod and greet the cameras below the steps.
Arthur just watched like that.
With a "click" sound.
The chandelier overhead turned on.
The sudden light made Arthur squint slightly.
A person stood at the doorway of the study. One hand was still pressing the switch on the wall, and the other hand held a dark felt hat.
That man didn't bring any documents today.
Nor did he run over like last time, holding that proposal bearing the three letters CSS to explain to Arthur what strategic industrial capability integration meant.
"Good heavens, Arthur, do you plan to sit in the dark all night?"
He closed the door behind him and walked in very naturally.
"Your butler told me you came upstairs at seven o'clock and didn't touch a bite of dinner. I thought he was exaggerating."
He walked over to the coffee table, looked down at the untouched glass of bourbon, and then looked at Arthur's face.
"Your complexion is really terrible. How have you been sleeping these past few days?"
Arthur looked at him motionlessly, without saying a word, and then looked back at the television.
The man seemed completely unconcerned, sat down in the nearby chair, placed the felt hat on his knees, and glanced at the television following Arthur's line of sight.
"Ah, Sacramento, this afternoon's affair, right? This photo was actually shot quite well."
Finishing speaking, he turned back, his tone as relaxed as if he were just dropping by for a routine visit like usual.
"Do you want to go out to eat something? That tavern on M Street is still open right now, my treat. A person has to eat after all."
Arthur did not look at him.
On the night this news about Saionji was broadcast, this man appeared in his study holding that hat; Arthur of course knew why he had come.
His gaze remained fixed on the television screen, and after a long time he said a sentence.
"...You might be right."
The man's hand resting on the brim of his hat paused.
He looked at Arthur, stunned for a moment, as if he didn't understand for a moment where this sentence picked up from.
Arthur placed the folded-corner folder on the coffee table, pressing it next to the glass of bourbon.
"This rate of expansion of theirs is simply unheard of..."
His gaze remained on the television. The Sacramento footage had already passed, and the screen was broadcasting the next piece of news.
"This document, I revised through four drafts."
He raised his hand and tapped twice on the cover of the folder with his knuckles.
"Four drafts, thinking about the exact same thing from start to finish: how to block a transaction of Saionji's."
"From reviews to hearings, and then to headlines in the newspapers, every single thing was correct. Put three years ago, every single thing would have worked."
The man did not interrupt, picked up the felt hat from his knees, placed it on the chair armrest, and put on a calm smile.
"Yet now, every time Saionji takes a step forward, a batch of Americans pops up behind it—it's fucking Americans fighting against their own people."
"Wall Street, the Pentagon, Texas, and today plus Sacramento. Not a single one of these people genuinely likes her, but every single one of them needs something from her."
Arthur paused.
"If I go to block her, they will come to block me."
"What they want are jobs, contracts, money that can be stuffed into their constituencies and ledgers. As long as she can provide it, no one in Washington is willing to step forward to play the bad guy."
"Unless someone in America can give them just as much."
He finally turned his head, looking straight into the other person's eyes.
"Only a giant enterprise can counter a giant enterprise."
Only the television remained humming softly in the study.
Arthur's voice was somewhat hoarse, yet extremely resolute.
"Speak, what do you need."
"I will do my best to help you."