Francis walked back to the table, picked up a document, and tossed it in front of Jack.
“Take a look at this, gentlemen.
These are the feedback reports we collected after the President spoke directly to the American people last night.” “The data shows that nearly ninety percent of the public now trusts the President.” “In other words, if you refuse to accept this draft, you’ll be placing yourselves on the opposite side of the people.” “And when that happens, even if the government wants to save you, it won’t be able to.” Jack Morgan didn’t lower his head to look at the document.
Neither did anyone else reach for the report.
They didn’t need to.
The previous night, each of them had been sitting inside their own mansion, listening to the laughter pouring through the streets outside.
They knew the speech had been a success.
They knew Roosevelt had regained public support—the very thing Hoover had desperately longed for in the final days of his presidency.
“I’m terribly sorry, gentlemen.
My nephew is only twenty-five this year.
As you know, young people tend to be…
a little hot-blooded.
If anything he said came across as offensive, I hope you’ll forgive him.” Roosevelt finally spoke.
His tone was relaxed, carrying a faint smile meant to smooth things over, completely different from the sharp edge Francis had displayed moments earlier.
William couldn’t help glancing sideways at Roosevelt.
One played the knife.
The other offered the way down.
One tore away all pretense.
The other stitched dignity back together.
It was a routine as old as politics itself.
The classic good cop, bad cop.
And uncle and nephew were performing it to perfection.
Jack and the others let their eyes drift back and forth between Roosevelt and Francis.
Of course he knew they were putting on a show.
But he also knew they no longer had many bargaining chips left.
Which meant they had no choice but to keep playing their part.
Jack turned his head and exchanged a look with John D.
Rockefeller Jr.
Then Pierre du Pont.
Then Andrew Mellon.
The four men had been friends for decades.
Some things didn’t need to be spoken aloud.
A single glance was enough.
They had to accept the draft.
Accepting it, however, didn’t mean accepting it forever.
In America, getting a law passed—or getting one repealed—had never been especially difficult for the country’s captains of industry.
Once the situation improved…
Once public sentiment cooled…
Once the banks were back on solid footing…
There would be plenty of ways to remove these shackles they found so uncomfortable.
Jack looked at Roosevelt and spoke slowly.
“Mr.
President, for the sake of the greater good, we’re willing to accept this draft.
But on one condition: the government must treat us with respect and refrain from excessive interference in the banks’ day-to-day operations.
The banking industry must ultimately remain under the management of professionals.” “Naturally.
The government’s only objective is to ensure that the banks can reopen in a healthy state and restore the public’s confidence.
As for the banks’ overall operations, we have no particular interest in involving ourselves.” Jack nodded.
He knew those words were nothing more than a verbal assurance.
A promise that wasn’t written into the law carried no legal force.
He had raised the demand simply to secure a face-saving concession for his group—something they could point to when they walked out of the room, so they wouldn’t appear to have surrendered completely.
Roosevelt understood that perfectly well.
And Jack knew Roosevelt understood.
Neither of them chose to say it aloud.
“Then it’s settled.
Once the bill has been formally drafted, we’ll meet again to work out the details of its implementation.” Jack was the first to stand.
John D.
Rockefeller Jr., Pierre du Pont, Andrew Mellon, and the rest of the Wall Street titans followed suit.
But as they were leaving, almost every one of them cast a knowing glance at Francis.
Whether he was the government’s gun or merely its mouthpiece, one thing was certain.
After today, none of them would forget the young man.
Francis knew perfectly well that from this day forward, he would be on the radar of these capitalists.
But he didn’t care.
Wasn’t this exactly why fate had given him a second chance at life?
As for wild conspiracy theories or ending up with eight bullets in his body, he wasn’t worried in the slightest.
The Roosevelt family was not the Kennedy family.
The Kennedys had brushed up against the core interests of big capital, and not only had John F.
Kennedy died under mysterious circumstances, but one by one, other members of the family had also met strange and untimely deaths.
Roosevelt, on the other hand, had treated the capitalists far more ruthlessly.
He had beaten them until they howled in pain, yet the most they ever dared do was rewrite the laws to keep the Roosevelt family out of the center of political power.
They never dared lay a hand on the Roosevelts themselves.
In the end, it all came down to Theodore Roosevelt.
During his presidency, he had built an enormous network of loyal followers.
And within the military alone, well over a million soldiers had benefited from his policies.
Those men had long since left the service, but they were still in the prime of their lives.
After the door closed behind the departing guests, William let out a long breath and leaned back in his chair.
Ballantine, Hugh, and the others also relaxed.
They had expected today’s negotiations to be anything but easy.
Yet before any of them had even had the chance to say much of anything, the Wall Street financiers had effectively surrendered.
Of course, it had all been because of one man.
William, Ballantine, and the others couldn’t help turning their eyes toward Francis.
If Francis hadn’t exposed what Chase Bank had been doing and placed enormous pressure on the Wall Street interests, forcing them to submit would never have been so easy.
But that realization immediately gave rise to another question.
William, in particular, was puzzled.
As Secretary of the Treasury and someone with close ties to Wall Street, even he had known nothing about the confidential dealings inside Chase Bank.
So how had Francis known them in such detail?
“All right.
Now let’s talk about Chase Bank.” Roosevelt’s voice broke the silence as he turned to William.
“Were you aware of this?” “I’d heard some rumors, but I had no idea Chase Bank was involved in anything like this.” William’s expression tightened.
On Wall Street, market manipulation, insider trading, and “borrowing” bank funds for personal investments…
These weren’t exactly official rules, but the truth was that plenty of people knew they happened.
Everyone simply understood the game without saying it aloud, and no one had ever been caught red-handed with the evidence laid bare.
“Then let me ask you this.
Albert just claimed that everything he did was entirely within the bounds of the law.
Is that true?” “I…
can’t say for certain.
After all, the Treasury hasn’t had time to investigate Chase Bank’s specific circumstances…” “No need.” Everyone turned toward Francis.
“Albert was telling the truth.
Everything he did was carried out within the framework of the laws and regulations currently in force.” “Insider trading, misappropriating bank funds, short-selling his own bank’s stock…
every one of those is legal?” Roosevelt frowned deeply.
He certainly didn’t understand the workings of banks and the stock market as well as professionals like William did.
But he wasn’t a fool.
It was obvious that something like this was fundamentally wrong.