Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 237 The Card Table in Manhattan

Early April 1990.

Lower Manhattan.

A fierce wind, carrying dense raindrops, pounded heavily on the entrance ramp to the underground parking garage of The Downtown Association. The murky rainwater rapidly gathered along the concrete gutters, producing a dull, sloshing sound.

Frank, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark striped suit, stood at the VIP elevator entrance half an hour early.

He maintained an extremely formal Western business posture, feet together, back straight, his gaze fixed on the driveway ahead, illuminated by dim wall lamps.

He raised his left hand and glanced at his watch.

The second hand ticks.

With a deep roar of a V8 engine, two bright headlights cut through the rain at the garage entrance. A black, bulletproof Cadillac smoothly drove down the ramp, its tires crunching over speed bumps and kicking up a spray of water, before finally coming to a precise stop at the edge of the red carpet leading to the VIP elevator.

Frank's heart pounded violently in his chest at that moment.

This was the first time he had seen the "god" who had bestowed upon him his current status, wealth, and power on Wall Street up close in the physical world. For countless days and nights over the past two years, he could only listen to that clear voice issuing command after command to reap the rewards of global wealth through that encrypted phone line across the Pacific Ocean.

A slight mechanical sound came from the car door as it unlocked.

Fujita stepped out of the passenger seat first. The butler, whose stature was like an iron tower, opened a huge black umbrella, quickly walked around to the back seat, and opened the heavy bulletproof door.

Frank stepped forward. His breath caught in his throat for half a second.

A foot wearing a custom-made black flat leather shoe stepped out of the car. Saionji Satsuki stepped into the slightly dimly lit garage.

Today she wore a sharply tailored, deep black Savile Row bespoke women's suit, paired with a pure white silk blouse. She wore no extra jewelry, and her long hair was simply pulled back with a dark blue tortoiseshell hairpin.

Frank's mind went blank for a moment when he saw the face of the excessively young yet unfathomable Eastern girl.

With the exceptional professionalism of a top Wall Street trader, he forcefully suppressed the almost overwhelming fervor within him that made him want to kneel in worship. He straightened his back, stepped forward to shield Satsuki from the water droplets above the car door, and pressed the elevator's up button.

Out of awe, Frank didn't even dare to look into her eyes for long. He lowered his head slightly, his gaze fixed stiffly on the tips of her custom-made black leather shoes and the edge of the red carpet.

"Ms. Saionji, welcome to New York."

Frank tried his best to keep his voice steady.

"Our team has taken over full security around the club. Salomon Brothers' president, Gutfred, is currently waiting in a private room on the top floor."

Satsuki nodded slightly. Her gaze calmly swept over the CEO who managed a pool of hundreds of billions of dollars for her on Wall Street, lingering for half a second on his slightly tense jawline.

"You've done a fantastic job in New York these past few years, Frank."

A clear, crisp voice echoed in the underground parking garage.

Frank's hands, hanging at his sides, clenched into fists almost imperceptibly. His nails dug deep into his palms, using the slight stinging sensation to calm the surging fervor within him.

"It is my pleasure to serve you."

The elevator's metal doors opened smoothly to both sides. Frank stepped aside and respectfully guided Satsuki and Fujita into the car.

The elevator doors closed. The elevator began to ascend, and a slight feeling of weightlessness traveled up to the soles of the feet.

The elevator car was eerily quiet. Frank stared at the constantly changing red floor numbers, his mind racing, analyzing the potential confrontation with the Wall Street oligarchs that was about to erupt.

"bite."

Reaching the top floor.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a dimly lit corridor covered with pure Persian handmade wool carpets. Nineteenth-century European landscape paintings hung on both sides of the walls, their gold leaf gleaming heavily under the wall lamps.

Frank led the way diagonally ahead. He stopped at the end of the corridor in front of a heavy walnut double door.

Two club waiters in black tuxedos immediately stepped forward, grasped the brass handles, and silently pushed the wooden door open to both sides.

Inside a private room.

The space is extremely spacious. It eschews ostentatious displays and opulent crystal chandeliers; the main light sources are a huge stone fireplace in the corner and a few softly lit floor lamps.

John Gutfred, CEO of Salomon Brothers, was sitting on a dark brown Chesterfield leather sofa.

This oligarch, dubbed the "King of Wall Street" by BusinessWeek, was wearing a well-tailored dark gray three-piece suit and holding a glass of single malt whiskey with an ice ball in his hand.

Upon hearing the door open, Gutfred immediately put down the crystal wine glass in his hand.

He stood up and strode towards the door.

"Ms. Saionji, it's an honor to have dinner with you."

Gutfred stopped two steps away from Satsuki and extended his right hand.

Facing this young Asian woman, old enough to be his granddaughter, Gutfred's manner was almost excessively polite. But in the world of Wall Street, age and gender are irrelevant. Only capital and cunning matter, and Satsuki possessed the power to command the highest level of respect from this oligarch.

Satsuki smiled and extended her right hand, which was covered by a thin black leather glove.

"Mr. Goodfred, I've long admired your name." Satsuki's tone was gentle, carrying the elegance of a noblewoman from a bygone era. "I am deeply honored to receive your invitation."

Two hands clasped together in mid-air. The force was just right, and they separated as soon as they touched.

"Please sit down."

Gutfred gestured.

Satsuki sat down on the single sofa opposite her. Fujita, carrying a briefcase, stood quietly in the shadows behind and to her side. Frank sat down on the other sofa next to Satsuki, his back straight, ready to answer any data-related questions that might arise.

Gutfred returned to his seat. Instead of calling for a waiter, he personally took a few ice cubes from the sterling silver ice bucket on the coffee table and placed them into a clean baccarat crystal glass.

"Miss Saionji, you've just gotten off the plane, how about having some water to soothe your throat?"

Thank you.

Gutfred filled a glass with water and gently pushed it toward Satsuki. Then, he picked up his own glass of whiskey.

"A book profit of $35 billion."

Goodfred got straight to the point from the start. He leaned back in the Chesterfield leather sofa, gently swirling the crystal glass in his hand, the ice puck striking the glass with a dull thud.

"To be honest, Ms. Saionji, when Williams first put the report of anomalies from the clearinghouse on my desk, I thought some old European friend was up to no good."

He shook his head and let out a soft laugh tinged with self-deprecation.

"Hmm... using hundreds or thousands of offshore accounts, they broke down millions of forward put options into tiny pieces. Just like that, right under our noses, they quietly moved a mountain of gold."

"That order splitting program that you call 'Ghost' did give us a headache for a while. But it's truly a fascinating work of art, isn't it? Especially the timing of the entry... it was perfectly timed, fitting right into the gap in the Bank of Japan's interest rate hike policy."

He paused for a moment, raised the single malt whisky in his hand, and gave a slight nod to Satsuki sitting opposite him.

"Well done. That clean and efficient covert method has earned you the utmost respect from those arrogant young men in Solomon's trading room."

Everything was crystal clear. All the cover-ups the Saionji family had made were exposed in front of Wall Street.

But none of the people present were surprised.

Where in the world is there a perfect way to hide something? As long as you can keep the other party in the dark for the time being, then the method is considered a success.

Moreover, being discovered by the other party was also part of the plan. (As mentioned earlier, the Saionji family's overseas funds were brought back to Japan through foreign investment.)

"You flatter me, Mr. Gutfred. It's just some rudimentary calculation model."

Satsuki picked up the crystal glass in front of her and took a sip of ice water.

"I have always believed that every market fluctuation paves the way for its eventual return to its intrinsic value. We are simply following this inevitable trend."

Gutfred looked at the girl who maintained a gentle smile, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

He put down his wine glass. He took out a document and a copy of a frozen fax from the North American Clearing House from his inside suit pocket.

The two documents were laid flat on the marble coffee table.

"That's certainly the trend. But in this market, the sheer volume of funds flowing through the underlying routing of clearinghouses is simply too glaring."

Gutfred slowed his speech and threw out his real trump card for the night.

"Ms. Saionji, you should be aware that in the international financial system, any cross-border cash settlement exceeding one billion US dollars will trigger anti-money laundering (AML) alerts from the SWIFT system and the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC). Once federal agencies intervene and go through that lengthy compliance review process, the realization of these 35 billion yen will be a distant prospect."

He extended his index finger and tapped it on the cover of the "Exclusive Prime Broker and OTC Derivatives Clearing Agreement".

"Solomon Brothers, as one of the world's largest market makers, is willing to provide you with this key to compliance."

"If all of these 35 billion options contracts were transferred to Salomon Brothers' proprietary trading desk for internal hedging and settlement, this huge sum of money would appear to regulators as normal and legitimate institutional trading activity for Salomon Brothers."

Gutfred leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

"We will assume all administrative risks and compliance pressures for you. We will ensure that every cent is safely and legally physically settled and deposited into any offshore account you designate."

"As consideration for providing this exclusive clearing service and channel cover."

Gutfred stared directly at Satsuki.

"Solomon Brothers needs to take 20 percent of the total profit from this option as a channel commission."

On the other side of the coffee table, Frank's jaw snapped shut.

Twenty percent. A full seven billion US dollars.

This was blatant robbery. Frank's mind raced, searching for the legal provisions to respond, but just like when Williams came to his door a few days earlier, the compliance defense he was playing was flawless within the existing federal legal framework.

If the agreement is rejected, SEC investigators will use the clearinghouse's alert records to completely freeze the accounts hidden in the Cayman Islands tomorrow.

A brief silence fell over the private room. Only the occasional crackling of the firewood in the fireplace could be heard.

Gutfred waited quietly for the other party to bargain. Faced with a staggering seven billion dollars in commission, any capitalist would be furious, or at least engage in several rounds of arduous negotiations with an extremely cold and hard attitude.

however.

Satsuki, sitting opposite him, showed no resentment at being extorted. She didn't even furrow her brow.

On the contrary, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly, and a very gentle, even somewhat relieved and grateful smile bloomed on her cheeks.

Satsuki picked up the glass of pure water in front of her and raised it slightly to the old man opposite her in greeting.

"Given the professional compliance protection of the Solomon Brothers, this commission is a very fair price."

Satsuki accepted the exorbitant bill with the gentlest of voices.

"Mr. Goodfred, the Saionji family is more than happy to pay this fee."

Goodfred paused slightly in the hand holding the whiskey.

He looked at the smiling young woman opposite him, a hint of undisguised astonishment flashing in his eyes.

They agreed too quickly. The transfer of seven billion dollars in profits was described by the other party as nothing more than a paltry restaurant tip.

Is this a trap?

This extremely decisive act of cutting losses caused the King of Wall Street to frown slightly. In the world of capital, not resisting often implies a larger scheme. He realized that the other party didn't care about this bridge fee at all.

What the other side is after is far more than 35 billion.

So why did she send me this signal? Revealing her true intentions would likely not benefit her...

Could it be that...?

"Miss Saionji's generosity is truly admirable." Gutfred put down his wine glass and sat up slightly. "It seems that the Saionji family's ambitions in the Far East are far more extensive than I imagined."

Satsuki put down her water glass.

With the gentle demeanor of a junior discussing business prospects with an elder, she revealed her true hand for the evening.

"Mr. Goodfred, has Salomon Brothers' actuarial team recently reassessed the capital adequacy ratios of major Japanese commercial banks?"

Gutfred's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Japan's banking system has always been very large," he responded cautiously. "Their balance sheet assets are sufficient to cope with normal fluctuations in bad debts."

"It is indeed enormous."

Satsuki tapped her fingers lightly twice on the leather armrest of the sofa.

"But Japanese banks have consistently counted the unrealized gains from cross-shareholdings between companies as part of the eight percent core capital required by the Basel Accords (BIS)."

Satsuki looked at the oligarch opposite her, her smile deepening.

"The Nikkei index has now fallen below 30,000 points. These paper profits are now wiping out."

Gutfred's pupils contracted very slightly for that instant.

"The Ministry of Finance just issued the 'Total Regulations' a few days ago, which completely cut off new credit flowing into real estate." Satsuki's voice was still gentle, as if she were telling a bedtime story. "Banks' capital adequacy ratios are about to fall below the international red line. In order to protect themselves and to comply with international clearing standards, their only solution is to indiscriminately and frantically withdraw loans from those healthy or unhealthy low-level enterprises."

"Once a wave of loan withdrawals occurs..."

"Trillions of dollars in bad debt (NPL) and mountains of bankrupt businesses will appear on the streets of Tokyo."

The private room was deathly silent.

Gutfred sat upright in the leather sofa. Within seconds, his brain rapidly completed a brutal financial deduction based on the data anchors thrown out by Satsuki.

The stock market crash led to a reduction in bank capital. To replenish capital, banks had to resort to any means necessary to recover loans. As a result, many real economy enterprises collapsed and went bankrupt in an instant, losing their cash flow.

A perfect, irreversible spiral of death.

"This is just a theoretical deduction model, Ms. Saionji."

Gutfred did not immediately show any conviction.

"The Ministry of Finance still possesses extremely strong administrative intervention capabilities. They might relax the standards to prevent this massive blood loss."

"You may remain skeptical, Mr. Goodfred."

Satsuki smiled, her eyes calm.

"You can have your risk control department run a stress test model of the Japanese banking system tomorrow morning. See how long that country's bottom line can hold out under the double whammy of falling stocks and loan withdrawals."

Her gaze fell upon the settlement agreement on the marble coffee table, which stipulated a 20% commission.

"I'm paying this seven billion dollars tonight not just to get the funds offshore once."

Satsuki looked at Gutfred, her eyes flashing with an extremely dangerous yet incredibly captivating light.

"This money is a deposit paid in advance by the Saionji family."

"The cross-shareholding model of Japanese zaibatsu and the Ministry of Finance's exclusionary censorship form an iron curtain that foreign capital cannot breach. The Saionji family, however, possesses an SPV matrix capable of breaking through this iron curtain and domestic political cover. What we lack is a compliance fortress that can resist Washington's administrative interference, as well as a reliable channel for fund allocation."

"If my predictions come true in the next few months."

Satsuki gently raised the glass of white water in front of her.

"I hope that the Salomon Brothers can use your lobbying machine and clearing channels on Wall Street to become the Saionji family's exclusive ally in this feast of dividing up the world's second-largest economy."

Gutfred gazed at the girl before him.

The other party didn't need him to believe immediately; instead, they used seven billion US dollars in cash as a bargaining chip to forcibly buy him the right to bet against the Salomon Brothers on the future.

Faced with this blatant and deadly conspiracy, and the terrifying prospect of huge profits that, if realized, could buy half of Japan, this Wall Street king completely abandoned his last shred of composure.

Goodfred reached out and picked up the amber-colored whiskey.

He raised his glass slightly and solemnly towards Satsuki, who was sitting opposite him.

"I expect my actuaries to bring me an interesting test report tomorrow."

Satsuki picked up the glass of pure water and gently clinked it against the wine glass in mid-air.

"bite."

The glass clashed, producing an extremely crisp sound.

Outside the window, spring thunder rumbled across the Hudson River in Manhattan.

Lightning ripped through the dark rain curtain of New York.