February 28, 1990, at nightfall. Note: Local time in Washington D.C.
Washington D.C.
Headquarters of the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission.
Arthur Vance sat behind a walnut desk.
His hands were clasped, the rough pads of his fingers pressed firmly against the dark stubble on his chin.
On the top right corner of the desk, an encrypted private line with a red federal security label buzzed without warning.
Arthur's gaze left the mountain of offshore fund tracking files in front of him. He reached out his right hand, grabbed the heavy receiver, and pressed it to his ear.
"This is Arthur Vance."
On the other end, through a faint satellite delay and static, came the voice of William, Economic Minister at the U.S. Embassy in Japan.
"Arthur." William's voice carried open satisfaction. "The stepping stone has been cast."
Arthur's back left the leather swivel chair as he leaned forward.
"Osawa Ichiro made his move?" Arthur's voice dropped, his pace speeding up instantly.
"The plenary session of the House of Representatives in Tokyo is being broadcast live. A lawmaker from Osawa's faction just stood at the interpellation podium and publicly demanded that the Cabinet abolish the Large-Scale Retail Store Law." William took a sip of water, the sound of the glass hitting the table clear on the line. "Osawa Ichiro kept his promise. In exchange for our administrative support, he personally put the bill to abolish Japan's retail economic barriers on the table."
"The political chips have arrived, Arthur."
William's voice turned cold and hard.
"Washington needs to immediately deliver on its protection of our ally. Go get your special authorization documents. Lock down those funds the Saionji Family has hidden overseas, principal and interest, on American soil."
A dial tone sounded.
Arthur Vance slowly set the phone down.
He opened the drawer on his right and took out a pre-drafted investigation report dozens of pages long. It detailed all the data trails of S.A. Investment using over a hundred Cayman Islands umbrella trust accounts to covertly accumulate shares in the U.S. Extreme Ultraviolet Light Source Laboratory and multi-axis machine tool companies over the past six months.
Because the other side had perfect equity-penetration isolation at the legal level, this report wouldn't survive a conventional federal court.
But that no longer mattered.
Osawa Ichiro's attack in the Japanese Parliament provided political endorsement. It was the equivalent of a powerful figure inside Japan's ruling party proactively submitting a diplomatic request to the United States for assistance in investigating monopoly capital.
Assisting allies in managing internal affairs has always been an inescapable obligation of the United States.
Arthur grabbed the report and strode out of the office.
Twenty minutes later. Inside the confidential office of the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States.
An instruction document stamped with the dark red seal of the federal government's highest executive level was handed to Arthur Vance.
Emergency National Security Freeze Directive.
Arthur looked at the bright red mark at the end of the document and gripped the papers tightly.
He had waited for this moment too long. The humiliation last autumn in the top-floor office of S.A. Investment in Manhattan, and the opponent's arrogant use of legal loopholes to sweep away core technical patents right in front of him, had to be settled today.
"Prepare the car. To the airport."
Arthur gave the order to the federal agents behind him.
"Target: New York."
---
New York, Lower Manhattan.
Icy rain mixed with the gale off the Atlantic, hammering the towering neoclassical buildings on both sides of Wall Street. The sky was as gloomy as dusk.
In front of a windowless fortress-like building less than two blocks from the New York Stock Exchange, three black Chevrolet bulletproof SUVs screeched to a halt on the waterlogged road.
The tires shrieked against the asphalt.
The doors pushed open simultaneously.
Arthur Vance, wearing a dark gray windbreaker, stepped into the mud and water. Behind him, eight fully armed federal marshals in bulletproof vests with bright yellow USMS lettering followed.
This was the Clearing House Interbank Payments System. It processes trillions of dollars in underlying global interbank U.S. dollar settlements every day, holding the core physical lifeblood of the global financial system.
Arthur ignored the security personnel trying to stop him. Two burly federal marshals stepped forward and physically moved the guards to the walls on either side.
"Federal agents. Executing a national security directive."
Arthur held high the document with the CFIUS seal and strode into the first-floor lobby of the clearing center.
Inside the lobby, busy financial clerks and clearing representatives in suits froze at the sight of the armed group. Several Wall Street executives in low conversation shut their mouths and stood stiffly to the side, afraid to block the way.
Heavy combat boots struck the marble floor, the chaotic and oppressive sound echoing in the cavernous lobby.
Those middle-market elites, usually so self-assured in the financial world, didn't dare question anything faced with bright yellow bulletproof vests and visible sidearms. They held their breath, watching the group cross the lobby with suspicious, fearful eyes.
The group moved as if through empty space, taking a private elevator directly to the core control center on the second basement level.
The blast-proof glass door was roughly pushed open by the marshals.
Inside the control center, hundreds of large server cabinets gave off an uncomfortable low-frequency hum. The air was thick with ozone and electrostatic dust. Dozens of senior operators sat before screens, fingers flying across keyboards as they processed U.S. dollar clearing instructions from around the world.
The supervisor of the clearing center stood up from behind the main console. He looked at the murderous-looking intruders, his brow furrowed deeply.
"Director Vance." The supervisor clearly recognized this SEC "mad dog." He walked forward quickly, his tone carrying obvious displeasure and warning. "This is the core data area of CHIPS. No federal court subpoena allows you to force your way in with armed personnel…"
"I don't think we need a subpoena from any court."
Arthur Vance cut the supervisor off. He slammed the supreme CFIUS directive onto the metal surface of the main console.
"Mr. Supervisor, national security directives override everything."
The supervisor's gaze fell on that dark red seal. His pupils contracted. His Adam's apple bobbed as he looked up at Arthur.
"Director Vance, do you know the consequences of forcibly interfering with underlying settlement routing? This will severely damage Wall Street's financial credibility globally."
"The credibility of the United States does not need to be maintained by tolerating financial spies." Arthur's gaze was like a blade, pinned on the supervisor's face. "Have your operators step aside. Now."
Two federal marshals stepped forward, hands resting on the grips of their sidearms.
The supervisor clenched his teeth and was silent for two seconds. He turned his head and gave an extremely reluctant gesture to the lead operator at the main console.
The operator stood up and stepped back.
Arthur Vance strode to the console, leaning his hands on the surface, eyes fixed on the screens flashing complex green code.
He pulled a folded piece of paper from his inner windbreaker pocket, listing a long string of offshore account codes accurate to the last digit.
"Under the name of S.A. Investment, there is a bridge fund amounting to one billion dollars. This fund is currently being prepared to be sent through associated umbrella trust accounts to an optical laboratory in Europe for asset merger and acquisition closing."
"I've checked the queue sequence. The cross-border settlement of these funds will undergo data transmission through your underlying routing within the next three minutes."
He turned his head and stared at the sweating operator.
"Modify the digital routing code for these funds. Force the recipient address to be changed to the U.S. Department of the Treasury's special regulatory account."
The operator's hands began to tremble violently. He looked toward his supervisor for help.
"Officer Vance!" The supervisor's voice rose an octave. "Legally, these funds are protected by Cayman Islands offshore trust laws! You have no right to forcibly intercept legitimate commercial remittances during the clearing process!"
"Execute the order!" Arthur Vance stared at the supervisor, his tone cold and hard.
The two U.S. Marshals had already half-drawn their sidearms.
The supervisor closed his eyes. He waved his hand helplessly.
The operator sat back down. His trembling fingers hovered over the keyboard, and he began to input the long string of low-level tampering commands.
The stream of green data on the screen paused briefly.
"Target account located… Fund amount verified… One billion four hundred fifty million dollars." The operator's voice trembled. "Executing routing redirection protocol…"
Arthur Vance's breathing grew heavy. He stared fixedly at the progress bar in the bottom right corner of the screen.
In the legal battles of transnational finance, S.A. Investment's legal team could delay any standard freezing procedure for years. Those one hundred perfectly isolated umbrella trusts were flawless in their legal documentation.
But in the face of a superpower's hegemony, all sophisticated legal logic was no match for a single line of forced code on the clearing center's master console.
The hegemony of the United States would not be challenged.
The progress bar climbed to one hundred percent.
Click.
The operator, with extreme reluctance, pressed Enter. He didn't even know why he had come to work today.
In the center of the screen, the green data packet representing that one-billion-dollar international remittance was forcibly intercepted by a suddenly inserted line of red code during the microsecond window as it entered the transmission channel.
The flow of data was abruptly twisted within the underlying logic.
Routing redirection complete. Funds locked into federal regulatory sequence.
Arthur Vance watched the line of red confirmation characters pop up on the screen.
He exhaled a long breath that had been pent up in his chest for months.
In that microsecond, a massive fortune of one billion dollars was forcibly swallowed by the brute force of the state apparatus, turning into a pile of dead numbers locked inside American servers.
---
At the same time. Tokyo, Marunouchi. Saionji Industries Headquarters, underground core strategy room.
Managing Director Endo was standing beside a massive rosewood long table, holding a top-secret summary report on the establishment progress of the overseas offshore SPV matrix.
To prepare for the frantic buying spree in the domestic asset market after the bubble burst, these shell funds hidden in the Cayman Islands and the Virgin Islands had to be legally watertight.
Suddenly, on the large LCD screen in front of the strategy room, a blinding bright red alarm light erupted.
A harsh electronic buzzing sound instantly tore through the silence of the room.
Warning: S.A. Offshore Fund 07… Transaction Intercepted.
Status: Frozen by U.S. Federal Reserve Routing Protocol.
Managing Director Endo's movements froze.
He looked up, watching the line of flashing red English warnings in the center of the screen with a grave expression.
One billion dollars. That long string of numbers representing real money instantly shifted on the screen from the green that symbolized normalcy to a lifeless, dead gray.
Even though he had known in advance that this money would be lost, now that it had actually happened, Managing Director Endo still felt his heart bleeding. That was a full one billion dollars, a massive fortune equivalent to over 140 billion yen.
This bridge financing, originally intended to cover various covert expenses in Europe, had been forcibly snatched away right under his nose, without even a court subpoena in sight.
However, there was no time to grieve over the money now.
Managing Director Endo took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing that genuine sense of heartbreak.
In this grand strategic deception, this one billion dollars had been labeled as a discarded pawn the moment it was transferred into that specific independent umbrella trust.
This was an extremely costly, yet completely orderly tactical retreat that fell within the risk reserve calculations.
He walked to the console and picked up the red encrypted telephone receiver that connected directly to New York.
"Frank." Managing Director Endo's voice was hoarse.
On the other end of the line, Frank's breathing sounded particularly heavy.
"They've made their move, Managing Director Endo." Frank took a deep breath on the other end, speaking rapidly. "Washington didn't go through any public court hearing process at all. Arthur Vance obtained the highest special approval from the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States. He pulled the bottom-layer network cable of the New York clearing center directly."
Frank gritted his teeth. "One billion. That money no longer belongs to us."
Managing Director Endo's fingers tightened slightly on the receiver. He turned his head, his gaze sweeping across the dim strategy room to look at Saionji Satsuki, who was sitting upright in the leather swivel chair at the head of the table.
Satsuki was wearing a dark cyan flannel collared dress today. She sat there quietly. Faced with the instantaneous evaporation of one billion dollars, not a single trace of emotional loss of control or panic appeared on her exquisite face.
Her clear, black-and-white eyes gazed calmly at the red alarm on the screen.
It's that Arthur Vance again. This person is quite interesting.
To be able to decisively abandon tedious legal entanglements and keenly seize the only physical clearing loophole that couldn't be defended against by law — the opponent is indeed an exceptionally excellent Washington hound.
Managing Director Endo looked at Satsuki's expression, which was devoid of any ripples, and the slight ripple in his own heart also completely subsided.
He spoke into the telephone receiver, his tone returning to its habitual cold hardness.
"Frank. Take a deep breath. Forget about that one billion."
Managing Director Endo's gaze was fixed intently on the large screen. "Initiate the asset verification procedure. Check the hidden main option accounts immediately."
On the other end of the line, Frank's breathing paused for a second. Immediately afterward, the sound of rapid keyboard typing came through densely.
"Yes, performing an independent check via the offshore encrypted gateway…"
Thirty seconds. During these long thirty seconds, only the humming of the exhaust fan remained in the strategy room.
"Main accounts are secure." Frank's voice regained the efficiency of a Wall Street elite. "The forward put option short positions with a nominal principal of 300 billion dollars are all anchored in independent seats in Chicago and Singapore. Because the one billion in bait funds had already completed legal isolation through the most complex umbrella trust structure before being remitted, the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission's freezing order only physically locked the routing of that one specific shell company."
"The fire cannot reach our main option portfolio."
Managing Director Endo let out a long sigh of relief.
The biggest crisis had been averted. The main short positions were intact. This meant that in the impending Japanese economic avalanche, the Saionji Family still held that ultimate sharp blade capable of strangling the entire market.
"Sever the connection. It must be severed immediately. Initiate the Firewall Plan."
"Frank, mobilize the top legal team in Manhattan. File a top-level transnational jurisdiction lawsuit with the federal court regarding these frozen one billion dollars."
Managing Director Endo's eyes became extremely profound.
"Cut off all internal legal assistance and subsequent funding to that shell fund. Let the external legal team fight a protracted, messy battle with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission."
"Turn this one billion dollars into bait that will latch onto Arthur Vance's energy. Drag him into an isolated quagmire using countless hearings, defense motions, and transnational legal disputes."
"As long as his attention is locked tight by this one-billion-dollar lawsuit, he will absolutely not be able to detect the 300 billion in short positions we have buried."
"Understood." Frank's voice sounded on the other end. "The legal team's documents will be submitted to the federal court within an hour. Consider that one billion as a toll paid to the government."