a gesture that combined genuflection with a modicum of fatalism. He was nothing if not a good actor. His fellow CEOs, who thrived on their relative appeal in the eyes of various corporate boards, were circling to watch the kill, despite what would be in the enlightened self-interest of their own companies—that is, to prevent a broader crisis. Meanwhile, the big foreign investors sensed opportunity but didn’t want to be taken for fools. What Holland needed was Henry’s back-channel cajoling and if not the Fed’s cash, at least its imprimatur on the deal to save the bank. The loan he wanted was one of gravitas and prestige.
“And what if we say no?” Henry said, setting his silverware down on his plate. “What if I get on the phone and instead of suggesting the ‘community’ rally around to protect one of its own, what if I tell them you’re an awfully bad bet and that in the end the market will do its job and decide what you’re really worth? And if that’s a dollar a share then so be it. What then?”
For the first time since they had sat down, Holland’s big politician’s guile fell away and he leveled at Henry a cold stare, his act of forthrightness and contrition gone.
Henry’s instinct had been right: Fanning was too close to this man for Holland not to have been involved. He had been Holland’s instrument.
“What then?” Holland echoed, in a slower, more deliberate voice. “Well, I guess I’d wonder if that was the outcome our government actually wanted.”
“Really? Are you suggesting the Fed lacks independence? Are you suggesting we take our marching orders from the political branches?”
Holland leaned back from the table. “Come off it, Henry. I’ve spoken to Senator Grassley’s people. I know what you’re hearing from Treasury. So what’s with the civics lesson?”
In his mouth, the phrase sounded almost dirty. Incredible, Henry thought. Here he was, Henry Graves, the gray pragmatist, accused of naïveté. It made him wonder. Could it be that despite all the legalized venality he’d witnessed over the years, despite even what he would have said of himself not ten minutes ago, that he actually was naïve? That some kernel of protest had survived in him? What would that even mean? That after forty years he should stand up and say to the system he’d spent his life protecting, I disagree? Stability doesn’t save anyone. Regulation is just a ruse to cover up organized theft and it convinces no one but the public. He didn’t believe this. And yet like some wide-eyed undergrad, like the philosophy major he’d once been, he felt an urge. A longing even. One he barely recognized.
A secretary appeared and handed Holland a note. He read it in a single glance and then crushed the paper in his fist.
“Make that forty-eight hours,” he said, shoving his plate aside. “Singapore wants its margin Thursday morning.”
Holland stood and signaled for the waiter to clear the table.
“Is that really what you want, Henry? You want to see us fail?”
IN THE CAR on the way out to Finden, Helen phoned to update Henry on the calls he’d missed during his meeting: two from the FDIC, an agency terrified of a bank the size of Union Atlantic winding up on its books; another from the Office of the Comptroller, whose examiners had been caught flat-footed; and two more from Treasury.
“And the chairman phoned,” Helen said. “He spoke to the chief of staff over at the White House about an hour ago.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“What am I supposed to tell him? That you’re unavailable? It’s rather implausible, under the circumstances.”
“Just buy me a few hours. I’ll be on a plane by four.”
He directed his driver through the center of Finden and out Winthrop Street to the house. As they came up the driveway he saw his sister wielding her clippers on a fallen branch of the old apple tree in the front yard. She didn’t notice the car at first and turned only when she heard his door closing. Fragments of leaves covered the front of her fleece sweater and some had caught in the strands of her hair.
“What on earth are you doing here?”
“I called you about it—our appointment. Over at Larch Brook. I told you I’d be coming.”
The dogs trotted over and sniffed at Henry’s waist.
“We had a tremendous rain last night,” she said. “This all came down in the wind. Sounded like a shotgun being fired. Woke me right up. You used to climb this