Chapter 524: What Should We Do?

The trading floor was still as busy as it was before they left.

Numbers kept changing on the large electronic screens, and telephone rings came from various directions.

Several young traders in shirts stood by the desk arguing about something, one of whom had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his tie had been thrown over the back of the chair at some point.

If one only looked here, it was hard to imagine that the company was experiencing the most severe crisis since its founding.

Everyone still went to work, still quoted prices, and still traded.

They still argued with clients until they were red in the face over a few basis points.

It was just that recently, more and more people would stare at the hung-up receiver for a few extra seconds after a phone call ended.

At the other end of the floor was a specially partitioned smoking room.

As soon as the door was pushed open, a smell mixed with tobacco and coffee rushed over.

Three people were already standing inside.

The windows were not open, the exhaust equipment hummed lowly, and several metal ashtrays by the wall were stuffed with cigarette butts.

Walsh and Morrison found a spot against the wall.

The lighter clicked.

Morrison took his first drag, and the whole person seemed to finally recover a bit from that phone call just now.

"Nine years."

He suddenly said.

Walsh looked over.

"What?"

"I’ve been with the company for nine years."

Morrison exhaled a puff of smoke.

"Think about it, we are Salomon, after all. In the past, it was always us picking clients."

"Some small accounts wanted Salomon to give them priority quotes, and no one might even bother to answer their calls after calling three times."

"Now look at how things are."

"When people do business with us now, they have to go back and ask their legal department first."

The corners of Walsh’s mouth twitched.

"At least you don’t have to explain to clients why our names are in the newspapers every day."

"Who told us to like being in the newspapers so much before."

Morrison lowered his head and flicked his ash.

"Now we’ve had enough."

The two were quiet for a moment.

Someone finished smoking at the other end and left. As the door opened and closed, the sound of phones outside poured in briefly, only to be blocked outside again quickly.

Morrison suddenly asked:

"Do you really think the Japanese will save us?"

"I just told McCormick they would."

"I’m asking what you think."

Walsh leaned against the wall.

"How would I know."

"Then you were talking as if it were true just now."

"I’m a salesman."

Walsh glanced at him.

"If even I myself first told clients that the company is going to finish, do you think they would need to think about it for a few days?"

Morrison couldn’t help letting out a breath from his nose.

"That’s true."

He took another drag.

"Still, thinking about it is absurd enough."

"What’s absurd about it?"

"Salomon Brothers."

Morrison raised his hand to point outside, then pointed at himself.

"Us."

"The group of people best at trading on Wall Street."

"In the past, those banks and insurance companies in Tokyo were queuing up with money to find us, and now we’ve actually been reduced to waiting for a Japanese company to come and save our lives."

Walsh didn’t pick up the conversation.

The more Morrison thought about it, the more outrageous he felt this matter was.

"Mitsubishi buys Rockefeller Center, Sony buys Columbia, and now even Salomon is going to be bought?"

"What are they planning to buy next?"

"The New York Stock Exchange?"

Walsh took a drag of his cigarette.

"Then do you have any other solution?"

Morrison instantly fell silent.

Only the continuous humming of the exhaust equipment remained in the smoking room.

Looking at that speck of red light at the tip of the cigarette butt, Walsh continued after a few seconds:

"Eddie, you know what our recent situation is better than those reporters outside."

"Clients are reducing trading."

"Banks are re-approving credit lines."

"There’s something new from the government every day."

"If this drags on any longer, there won’t even be any need for anyone to officially announce Salomon’s bankruptcy."

"As long as enough clients stop doing business with us, and enough people are no longer willing to lend money to us, the company will grind to a halt on its own."

Morrison still didn’t speak.

"What’s needed now is for someone to stand up and tell the market—Salomon won’t disappear tomorrow."

Walsh brought the cigarette to his mouth.

"And this person has to have money."

"A lot of money."

"So much that others are willing to believe what he says."

Speaking up to this point, both of them knew who the most likely person was now.

Saionji.

Walsh thought of the large crowd of journalists downstairs a few days ago, and also of that Japanese girl standing next to Gutfreund, who looked even younger than many analysts in the company.

To be honest.

When he first saw her on TV, he also felt the whole thing was absurd to the extreme.

But absurdity was absurdity.

Capital would never subtract a few zeros just because someone was young.

Although that Japanese girl wasn’t tall, even if you bundled the accounts of everyone in this building right now, it wouldn’t equal a fraction of her net worth, right?

"So—"

Walsh shrugged.

"Whether she comes from Tokyo, London, or Mars."

"As long as they are willing to keep this company open, make my clients willing to take my calls tomorrow, and let me still be sitting here next month—"

He shrugged.

"Then I welcome them."

Morrison glanced at him.

"Do you really not care?"

"At least not right now."

"Then what about layoffs after they come in?"

Walsh paused.

Morrison had obviously thought about these things.

"Do you think the Japanese will spend billions of dollars and then change nothing?"

"What if they think a certain department has no value and directly cut it?"

"And the management."

"Will Tokyo cram a bunch of their own people over?"

"How will our bonuses be calculated then?"

"Will next year’s compensation still follow the current system?"

"If they combine the Asia business with their own side, how many people will be laid off here?"

Walsh originally wanted to reply casually, but the words stopped at the tip of his tongue.

He looked at Morrison.

Recently, he had worried about the Department of the Treasury.

Worried about clients.

And worried about the company’s capital.

Even worried about whether the name Salomon could continue to remain on Wall Street.

But what Morrison said...

He really hadn’t thought about it very seriously.

Probably because he had stayed here for too long.

So long that when considering problems, he would subconsciously start from "What should Salomon do?"

But until now did he suddenly remember.

What Salomon should do was one thing.

What Peter Walsh should do was another matter entirely.

What Morrison was asking now seemed to be the things that were truly related to the two of them.

He lowered his head and glanced at the cigarette in his hand that was already half-burned.

"Both are possible."

Walsh thought for a good while, and finally shook his head.

"Both are possible, that’s the answer."

He pressed the remaining stub of the cigarette into the ashtray.

"However, people haven’t even promised to give money yet, and we are already discussing how the Japanese are going to lay us off. Isn’t that a bit too early?"

Morrison thought about it.

"That’s true."

"Let’s first think about how to pacify the remaining clients today."

Walsh was just about to pull the door.

But the door was pushed open from the outside a step ahead.

The two raised their heads at the same time.

Standing at the doorway was Richard Berman.

Their department head.

Berman glanced at the two people first, and his sight fell on the ashtray next to them that was already stuffed with cigarette butts.

"Very good, I knew I could find you here."

The second cigarette Morrison had just lit was still pinched in his hand, and upon hearing this, he subconsciously tucked it behind him.

"We were discussing clients."

"Of course, you’d better really be."

Berman was obviously too lazy to pursue the matter of them sneaking out to smoke, and only tilted his head toward the outside.

"Go back soon. Saionji’s people have already started working. Several conference rooms upstairs have been cleared out for them, and a data list just came down. All departments must cooperate."

Walsh nodded.

He had already heard about this matter in the morning, but he didn’t know it would fall onto his own head so quickly.

"What do we need to provide on our side?"

"They are spot-checking long-term client projects that haven’t ended yet."

Saying this, Berman glanced at him, "Northern United Life was drawn."

Walsh’s hand, which was still resting on the door handle, paused for a moment.

"McCormick’s project?"

"That’s the one."

Berman obviously didn’t know about the phone call that happened ten minutes ago, and continued to instruct:

"Organize the trading records of the past six months, the complete plan for this portfolio adjustment, client correspondence materials, internal approvals, and the several versions you guys made back and forth."

"They want to see not only what was finally delivered to the client, but also how it was modified in between."

Walsh frowned.

"They want it in such detail?"

"They aren’t here to drink coffee."

After saying this, Berman had already turned and walked two steps outward, then as if remembering something, turned back and added:

"Also, they require the person in charge of the project to go personally. Don’t hand the materials over to an assistant; deliver them yourself."

This time Walsh was really stunned for a moment.

"Now?"

"Now."

Berman glanced at his wristwatch.

"Saionji’s people are already waiting."

Walsh followed him out of the smoking room, and the rising and falling sounds of phones outside surged over again.

He instinctively glanced toward his workstation.

The project materials for Northern United Life were still spread out there on the desk.

A dozen minutes ago, he had told McCormick on the phone that as long as Saionji’s support was in place, everything would get better.

Now, Saionji’s people were ready to come and see for themselves how this business transaction really was.