Late March 1990. Early morning.
Bunkyo Ward, Tokyo.
Saionji Main Family Residence, Rain Gazebo.
On the second morning after the market index broke below 29,000, a lingering chill still hung in the early spring air. A thin layer of morning frost covered the bluestone slabs in the courtyard.
Clang—
The bamboo shishi-odoshi, filled with mountain spring water, lost its balance and struck heavily against a moss-covered boulder. The crisp sound echoed through the quiet, ancient mansion.
Satsuki wore an elegant, light blue home kimono with a dark silver-patterned brocade obi. She stood quietly at the edge of the wooden corridor, holding a long-spouted pure copper watering can.
A fine stream of water poured from the spout, evenly soaking the roots of a precious black pine on a flower stand. The droplets sank into the dry granular soil with a faint sizzling sound.
Fujita Tsuyoshi, in a crisp black tailcoat, walked quickly along the shadows of the corridor. He stopped two paces from Satsuki and bowed slightly. In both hands he held a briefing fresh from the encrypted fax machine, which he set flat on the red sandalwood tea table at the edge of the corridor.
"Miss. The latest developments from Nagatacho."
Fujita's voice was kept very low. His pace was steady.
"Councilman Osawa Ichiro formally proposed a draft amendment to completely abolish the Large-Scale Retail Store Location Act at last night's Liberal Democratic Party closed-door meeting. He also suppressed all opposition from the party's commerce and industry faction and decided to force a vote at next week's plenary session."
Satsuki lifted her wrist slightly, cutting off the flow from the copper pot. She set the pot on the bottom shelf of the flower stand and drew a pristine white cotton handkerchief from her sleeve.
"He's getting impatient."
Satsuki wiped the cool moisture from her fingertips without hurry.
"Once the Ministry of Finance's 'total volume regulation' went out, liquidity at the bottom was cut off completely. Without that sustenance, the real estate financiers under his name are probably lining up for court seizure orders right now."
She switched the handkerchief to her left hand and brushed a speck of dust from her kimono sleeve.
"Without his funding source, his seat in Nagatacho won't hold for long."
Satsuki turned, tucked the folded handkerchief back into her sleeve, and looked toward the moss-covered boulder in the courtyard.
"When people are pushed to the edge of a cliff, they always find a way to secure a new backer. Handing over this pledge of loyalty as fast as possible, trading it for political asylum in Washington, is the only life-saving straw he can grab right now."
Fujita's gaze fell on the briefing on the tea table.
"The National Federation of Small and Medium Retailers is already organizing large-scale protest marches. For Councilman Osawa to push to abolish the act now is smashing the rice bowls of millions of grassroots retail workers across Japan."
He glanced at Satsuki's profile.
"Do we need to have the intelligence system leak the evidence of his behind-the-scenes collusion with foreign capital to the media now?"
"Wait a bit longer, Fujita."
Satsuki's gaze returned to the gnarled black pine in front of her.
"The fire isn't burning bright enough yet. The blade that is Osawa Ichiro still has some residual value. Let him finish the dirty work of abolishing the large-scale retail store law and bringing in foreign capital while the nation curses him. Wait for the moment the gavel officially falls in Parliament..."
Satsuki reached out and picked up a pair of sharp gardening shears from the edge of the flower stand.
"Wait until the last drop of his political life has been squeezed dry. Then we leak that evidence."
The cold blade slid against the branch of the black pine.
"A national traitor who sold out the country's retail barriers for personal gain and invited Wall Street capital in to short Japan. That will be his perfect final performance."
Snip.
A stray dead branch was cleanly cut at the base and fell onto the bluestone slabs.
Satsuki stared at the smooth cut.
"These domestic politicians are nothing to fear."
She set down the scissors. Her voice was low in the morning breeze.
"As for Washington."
"That SEC investigator named Arthur Vance probably can't even get out of the Manhattan courthouse doors right now. Other agencies seem to have no intention of moving against us for the time being."
She turned and walked to the red sandalwood tea table. She picked up the cup of tea that had grown slightly cool but did not drink.
"S.A. Investment initiated its first round of covert position closing last night. With the market index breaking 29,000, we must convert part of our options into solid U.S. Treasury Bills to recoup cash."
Her fingertips rubbed the rim of the cup gently.
"But liquidating options can't bypass Wall Street's clearing centers. Withdrawing tens of billions in cash has to pass through the underlying physical routing in New York."
Satsuki's gaze went past the tea room's shoji doors, toward the distant horizon.
"Just wait. Those old dogs on Wall Street will be biting soon."
...
Lower Manhattan, New York.
The rain poured down, hammering the tempered glass curtain wall of S.A. Investment's top-floor office. The gloomy sky cast a solemn atmosphere over the large CEO's office.
Frank stood behind the walnut desk.
His breathing was steady. His hands hung naturally at his sides. But on his face, weathered by countless Wall Street meat grinders, there was now a look of extreme gravity.
Across the desk stood a silver-haired white man in a custom three-piece suit.
The old man had a polite, gentle smile at the corners of his mouth. He leaned on a silver-handled umbrella and looked like a kind, amiable elder.
"Mr. Frank." The old man's tone was slow and elegant. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Williams, Chief Risk Officer of Salomon Brothers. President Gutfreund sends his most sincere regards for the outstanding talent you've shown during this shorting cycle."
He bowed slightly. His etiquette was flawless.
Frank kept his professional courtesy and nodded slightly in return.
"Mr. Williams is too kind. I've long admired your company's reputation. As the overlord of the global options market, your firm has always been the rule-maker on Wall Street."
His gaze swept over the silver-handled umbrella in the old man's hand, still wet with rain, and paused briefly.
"But... for Salomon's CRO to personally come out on a rainy day." Frank met the old man's eyes. "Mr. Gutfreund must have brought other, more important proposals, I presume?"
"Of course."
Williams smiled and took a light gray envelope sealed with wax from his inner suit pocket.
He stepped forward and set the envelope gently on the walnut desk in front of Frank. Beside it he placed a square black 3.5-inch floppy disk.
"A small, insignificant greeting gift."
Williams pointed to the floppy disk.
"Last night, your side initiated the first round of options settlement. At the routing nodes for fund transfers in the New York Clearing House, our quantitative department's supercomputer happened to capture some... extremely sophisticated algorithmic links."
The old man's voice stayed gentle.
"Our actuaries ran a small reverse deduction and accidentally discovered some... interesting things."
He paused. The smile at the corners of his mouth deepened.
"Mr. Frank, you and the master behind you have carved out the choicest piece of meat from this feast."
The muscle at the corner of Frank's eye twitched slightly. He didn't look at the floppy disk. His gaze stayed locked on the old man's eyes.
Williams withdrew his hand and folded both hands over the umbrella handle again.
"Given the high frequency of these settlement transfers and their origin from multiple offshore accounts... as one of the market makers responsible for settlement, Salomon Brothers, based on industry compliance obligations, has submitted a routine risk alert to the Clearing House."
The old man looked at Frank. His tone was full of regret.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Frank. The Clearing House has officially initiated Anti-Money Laundering and abnormal transaction verification procedures. Within the compliance framework, the outgoing channels for your first batch of settlement cash are currently in a temporary freeze."
Frank stayed standing. His breathing hitched for a moment. He stared at the old man's gentle smile, his Adam's apple bobbing.
He ran through every legal counterargument in his head.
He found none.
The opponent had played Wall Street's most airtight compliance card. As long as this procedure stood, not a single cent of that $35 billion profit could leave the Clearing House.
Williams extended his white-gloved right hand and tapped the wax-sealed envelope.
"But misunderstandings can always be resolved. President Gutfreund very much hopes to have a sincere and friendly exchange with the true principal behind your side."
He bowed slightly.
"This weekend, at a private cigar club in Lower Manhattan. President Gutfreund has prepared the finest banquet and awaits your favorable reply."
"Pardon the intrusion, Mr. Frank. I wish you a pleasant morning."
The old man turned. His leather shoes clicked on the carpet as he walked out with steady steps.
Frank stood behind the desk. His breathing stayed steady, but a layer of fine cold sweat had broken out on his back.
He looked down at the black floppy disk and the wax-sealed letter.
The office was exceptionally quiet. No piercing sirens. No SEC agents bursting in. A drop of cold sweat slid down his chin and hit the walnut desk with a faint sound.
He knew exactly how destructive that floppy disk could be. If it landed in Arthur Vance's fax machine, S.A. Investment's positions would be frozen immediately. But Gutfreund chose to send someone privately. He used the AML privilege to choke the physical exit of the funds, then handed Frank a napkin.
Frank closed his eyes and took a deep breath of cold air.
These Wall Street oligarchs wanted to use this to blackmail their way to the table.
Frank opened his eyes, reached out, and grabbed the red encrypted hotline at the corner of the desk. His fingers spun quickly on the dial.
...
Marunouchi, Tokyo. Saionji Industries Headquarters, Underground Core Strategy Room.
The hem of Satsuki's light blue kimono swayed slightly as she descended the metal stairs into the strategy room.
She walked to the console, reached out a fair finger, and pressed the speakerphone button.
"Boss."
Frank's voice came through the speaker.
"Several core market makers on Wall Street teamed up with the Clearing House. They cited 'high-frequency trading orders triggering AML and abnormal transaction verification' to temporarily freeze the outflow of our first batch of settlement cash."
Frank then detailed the entire visit from the Salomon Brothers CRO an hour ago in Manhattan, including the floppy disk and the banquet invitation.
"The other side likely knows much more than we imagined."
Frank paused on the line.
"Gutfreund is blackmailing us to yield profits. If we refuse to attend, a copy of that floppy disk will probably end up on Arthur Vance's desk."
Satsuki listened quietly to Frank's report.
Faced with a transnational capital giant using a 'compliance chokehold' followed by a 'polite invitation,' not a hint of panic showed on her face. Instead, she lowered her eyelids slightly. Deep in her eyes, a glimmer of excitement at meeting a worthy opponent slowly surfaced.
Gutfreund... in her previous life, he was someone she'd have struggled even to meet...
She picked up the bone china teacup at the edge of the console and took a small sip of tea.
This was the perfect opportunity to break the deadlock.
After the market crash, when the Saionji Family returned home with massive funds to swallow up bankrupt high-quality industries and core banks from the ruins, the biggest obstacle was never capital. It was the Ministry of Finance's anti-monopoly reviews and the local zaibatsu's exclusionary defense. She needed a Wall Street oligarch big enough to counter Washington's administrative interference as cover.
The coming wave of real-sector bankruptcies in Japan and the mountain of Non-Performing Loans were the best cake.
Salomon Brothers wants a bridge fee from this $35 billion? Then give it to them.
Use the corpses of Japanese entities as bait. Tie this greedy Wall Street wolf completely to the Saionji Family's chariot. Let them use their massive capital channels to help the SPV Matrix harvest Japan's core assets.
Satsuki tilted her wrist slightly, setting the teacup back on the red sandalwood saucer.
"Frank. Reply to Mr. Gutfreund with the same level of etiquette."
Satsuki spoke softly into the phone. Her tone was calm and composed, carrying the ease of someone about to attend a banquet.
"Tell him I look forward to the Manhattan trip this weekend. I hope the red wine he's prepared is worthy of this $35 billion appetizer."
"Understood, Boss."
Frank's voice came back steady over the line.
Satsuki extended her index finger and pressed the disconnect button. The faint hum of current in the speaker vanished, and the strategy room returned to the silence of only machines running.
She turned and looked at the butler who had been standing like a shadow in the darkness by the console.
"Fujita."
"I am here, Miss."
Fujita Tsuyoshi stepped forward immediately and bowed slightly.
"Prepare the flight path."
"To New York."