The following morning, the tenth-floor conference room of the New York Federal Reserve once again filled with Governor Chris Murphy and the heads of Wall Street's biggest banks.
The meeting, which resumed early in the day, dragged on without pause, even through lunch, which was delivered to the room so discussions could continue.
Surrounded by portraits of former New York Fed governors, the exhausted bank chiefs slumped in their chairs, looking like drained batteries with no power left to give.
Some fiddled with their glasses, others scribbled aimlessly on scraps of paper, or pressed their fingers against the bridge of their nose. The fatigue in the room was palpable.
It was only natural—they had been locked in back-to-back marathon sessions for two straight days.
Adding to the exhaustion, many of them would slip out from time to time into the hallway or an empty room next door to make hurried phone calls with their executives before returning to the table. As the hours ticked by, their faces grew darker, worn thin by both fatigue and frustration.
Still, one point had been settled: to prevent the collapse of the entire market, they all agreed that LTCM's bankruptcy had to be averted at all costs.
The real issue was who would bear how much of the $4 billion required to plug the hole. That question fueled relentless arguments.
Governor Chris proposed that all sixteen banks present contribute equally—$250 million each. The idea was immediately met with resistance.
The foreign banks, led by Société Générale, insisted they could contribute no more than $120 million apiece. Lehman Brothers, JP Morgan, and Goldman Sachs all maneuvered to reduce their own share.
Bear Stearns went a step further, flatly declaring it would not participate in the bailout at all, much to Governor Chris's frustration.
But if even one bank walked away, the entire coalition would collapse. So the governor tried every persuasion, coaxing and cajoling the bankers, desperately working every angle to secure their commitment.
By the end, his face looked as though he had aged ten years in just two days. Looking around the table at the weary executives, his cracked voice broke the silence.
"Here is the final proposal: eleven banks will each contribute $300 million. With Lehman Brothers and the remaining banks added in, we will raise $3.62 billion. Combined with LTCM's remaining assets, that will cover the shortfall. If anyone has objections, speak now."
The attendees all wore dissatisfied expressions.
But with fear in the markets growing by the hour, there was no time left to delay. Reluctantly, they either gave a curt nod or sat in silence, their displeasure barely concealed.
Governor Chris, still wary until the very last moment, finally exhaled a small sigh of relief when no objections were raised, as if a heavy burden had been lifted.
"For this bailout," he continued, "we will create a separate entity representing the fourteen participating banks. The pooled funds will be invested in exchange for ninety percent of LTCM's equity. The existing fund shareholders will retain the remaining ten percent, while strict controls will be put in place to prevent a recurrence of this kind of crisis."
Holding the sheet of paper that outlined the agreement, Chris went on.
"Finally, the consortium will be maintained for a minimum of three years, during which time Wiseman and the other senior partners of LTCM will continue to manage the fund—without receiving any additional bonuses."
Lowering the paper, Chris swept his eyes across the room with a solemn expression.
"I trust we are all in agreement. Please proceed with your signatures."
He then signed his own name first and slid the document to Fuller, the chairman of Bear Stearns, seated on his left.
Fuller sat with his arms crossed, scowling at the agreement before reluctantly picking up his fountain pen to sign. Just then, a voice cut across the room.
It was Joseph Salucci, chairman of Goldman Sachs.
"May I have a moment to speak?"
The sudden interruption, coming when only the signing remained, made Chris's brows knit together.
He wanted nothing more than to ignore it, but that was impossible in practice. Fixing Salucci with a hard stare, he replied curtly.
"Go on."
"There is another way besides relying on us," Salucci said.
A ripple of murmurs spread among the attendees, confusion flashing across their faces.
"What do you mean, another way…?"
"This is no time for disruptions," Chris snapped, his tone edged with irritation. "What are you suggesting?"
Salucci met the sharp glares around the table with calm indifference, answering as though he hadn't noticed them at all.
"I've heard that Warren Buffett, chairman of Berkshire Hathaway, is interested in acquiring LTCM."
"...!"
"If it's Chairman Buffett, he certainly has the resources. Isn't that reassuring?"
At Salucci's words, the attendees immediately brightened, their expressions shifting to relief and welcome.
"That's right!"
"If Buffett steps in, then we have nothing to worry about."
If Berkshire Hathaway were to acquire LTCM, the burden that would otherwise fall on their shoulders would vanish. Their reaction was only natural.
Chris shot Salucci a look filled with irritation.
If such a possibility existed, it could have been mentioned earlier. Instead, Salucci had waited until the last possible moment, undermining the agreement like pouring cold water over the room.
"Is that true?"
Salucci gave a sly nod, his expression infuriatingly smug.
"Yes. I've heard they'll be sending an acquisition proposal to LTCM very soon."
At that, Fuller of Bear Stearns—already reluctant about contributing funds—jumped in at once.
"If Berkshire Hathaway is moving to acquire LTCM, then there's no reason for us to get involved, is there?"
"Agreed. They'd be in a much better position to handle the aftermath anyway."
"I feel the same."
"It would be far more efficient for one party to take full responsibility rather than splitting it among many."
Nodding in eager agreement, the others voiced their support for Warren Buffett taking over LTCM, as if trying to wriggle out of the troublesome burden themselves.
Chris clicked his tongue inwardly. After two grueling days of negotiations, the hard-won consensus was already starting to unravel.
Raising his voice to reassert control, he said,
"Buffett's intentions to acquire LTCM have not been confirmed. And even if he is interested, his proposal could be completely unreasonable. Therefore, we will proceed with the agreement as it currently stands."
"What if Berkshire Hathaway truly does move to acquire them?" Fuller pressed, unwilling to let go.
Chris frowned slightly as he answered.
"If their proposal proves more favorable than ours, and if LTCM prefers it, then we will grant Berkshire Hathaway the priority. Until then, we follow the existing plan."
Chris still wanted to resolve the LTCM crisis through the united front of the banks.
But with an alternative now on the table, forcing his way forward would only spark fierce resistance.
The compromise was the only way to keep everyone in line.
"Well, in that case, I suppose it's fine."
Fortunately, Fuller didn't press the issue any further and stepped back. Seeing that, the other attendees also nodded in agreement.
Chris, relieved, moved quickly to resume the procedure that had been interrupted.
"Then let's finish the signing."
Fuller picked up the fountain pen he had set down earlier and scrawled his name on the agreement. One by one, the others followed, until at last the document was complete.
"At long last."
"Good riddance."
"All this, just because of LTCM. Tch."
Exhausted from two days of grueling meetings, the bank heads rose from their seats and began shuffling out with weary faces. Chris, however, walked straight over to Chairman Salucci.
"Let's have a word."
"Of course."
The two of them stepped out of the conference room and into a vacant room nearby. Once the door closed, Chris turned sharply, his expression hard as stone.
"I thought we were working together. It seems I was mistaken."
"Is this about Chairman Buffett?" Salucci replied, his tone smooth and unbothered.
"If that were true, you should have warned me beforehand—not sprung it on me in front of everyone!"
"My apologies. But I only just heard the news myself. I didn't have the chance to tell you sooner."
It was an obvious lie, plain to see. But lashing out further would only make him look undignified. Instead, Chris narrowed his eyes, fixing Salucci with a cold glare as he delivered his warning.
"I'll let it pass this time. But if you stab me in the back again, I won't sit quietly."
Without waiting for a reply, Chris brushed past him, opened the door, and left.
Salucci turned slowly, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the door Chris had just walked through.
***
Greenwich, LTCM Headquarters.
The opulent new office they had moved into just last year now felt like a tomb, weighed down by suffocating silence.
Another day of relentless market collapse had wiped out staggering sums, leaving the fund with assets worth barely $555 million.
Beyond the wide glass windows, the sun was sinking in a red haze. Jacob Wisemann sat slumped at his mahogany desk, his face gaunt and haggard, as if he hadn't slept in days.
His hair was unkempt, his eyes sunken deep, shadowed by exhaustion and despair. Papers detailing the day's losses were strewn chaotically across the desk. Beside them sat a half-empty tumbler, the base of the glass leaving sticky rings on the wood.
Wisemann pulled a cigarette from its pack, lit it with a flick of his lighter, and drew in deeply. The smoke drifted out slowly, dispersing in the air—hollow, fading, like his life's work slipping away.
Everything he had built over the years was collapsing in an instant, crushing his chest with its weight.
"Damn it."
Muttering a curse, he knew the final moment of decision had come. Just then, his phone rang loudly on the side table.
Picking it up, he was met with an unexpected voice.
[It's me. Buffett.]
"…!"
[I'll keep this brief—you must have plenty on your mind.]
"…."
[I'll be sending over an acquisition proposal shortly. I want your answer by eight o'clock.]
The line went dead before Wisemann could reply. His expression twisted in bitter frustration.
"That arrogant old man…"
Until just recently, they had coldly rejected his request for investment—yet now, out of nowhere, they were offering to buy him out. The absurdity of it was beyond belief.
It felt like a pack of hyenas waiting for their prey to collapse, only to swoop in and tear out its last breath. The thought made him sick.
And yet, reality was undeniable: the fund could no longer stand on its own. Against his will, a small spark of hope flickered at the thought of what kind of offer might be on the table.
At that moment, a staff member knocked hesitantly and stepped into the office, bowing his head.
"Berkshire Hathaway has sent a fax."
"Let me see it."
Wisemann stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and reached out his hand.
Once the staffer handed over the document and quietly left, Wisemann drew in a deep breath and read through it.
[Acquisition Terms: 100% ownership of LTCM
Purchase Price: USD 250,000,000
Berkshire Hathaway, AIG, and Goldman Sachs will acquire 100% of the fund's equity and inject an additional USD 3.76 billion in operating capital.]
"…Hah."
Wisemann let out a hollow laugh despite himself.
Just weeks ago, the fund had been valued at $4.7 billion. And now, they wanted to swallow it whole for a mere $250 million.
"No matter how cornered I am, this is outrageous."
If he accepted, not only would he and his partners—billionaires only a few weeks earlier—be stripped down to nothing, but they would also lose every share of the fund and be forced out of their own seats.
As if that weren't infuriating enough, Warren Buffett had cunningly allowed him only an hour to respond, leaving no room to seek another bidder.
It was outright robbery. Grinding his teeth, Wisemann muttered,
"No more deliberation is needed."
He crumpled Buffett's proposal in his hand and tossed it into the trash bin. Then, picking up his phone again, he dialed another number.
The line rang several times before the other side answered. With a voice cracked and raw, Wisemann spoke:
"I'll accept your offer."
***
Vermont, USA.
On a vast stretch of green pasture stood a grand two-story log villa, tucked away on one side of a sprawling ranch.
The lofty-ceilinged, luxurious lounge was carpeted with the hide of a buffalo hunted just last year.
Inside, Warren Buffett, chairman of Berkshire Hathaway, sat comfortably on a plush sofa with Bill Gates, founder of Microsoft, the two of them sipping beer.
Though there was a significant age gap between them, they shared much in common and had long maintained an easy friendship.
Buffett, his hair neatly combed back and a cashmere cardigan draped over his shoulders, held a fine Cuban cigar in one hand, its rich aroma filling the air as it burned.
"Do you think LTCM will accept the offer?" Bill asked, setting his beer back down after a sip.
Buffett drew deeply on his cigar, exhaled a slow stream of smoke, and replied with quiet confidence.
"They have no choice. Like it or not, they'll have to accept."
"I suppose that's true." Bill gave a little shrug.
"But with Russia's situation worsening, won't acquiring them just become a headache?"
Buffett flashed a wide smile, his white teeth gleaming.
"They may be in a panic now, but in time the markets will stabilize. And you don't seriously believe a nation with vast natural resources and nuclear weapons like Russia will collapse outright, do you?"
"Well… no, I don't."
"Even if we forgive part of the interest or principal, buying up their bonds at fire-sale prices will yield more than enough profit."
Bill chuckled. "Ha! Remarkable as always."
Buffett answered his admiration with a smile, cigar firmly between his lips.
Just then, the phone on the table buzzed, and Buffett's eyes lit up.
"Looks like they've called."
Buffett leisurely picked up his phone and answered.
"Yeah, it's me. Has LTCM given their reply?"
His tone was calm, but his expression quickly hardened.
"What? …Is that true? Hm… Alright."
Ending the call, Buffett slowly set the phone down without another word.
Sensing the unusual tension, Bill carefully studied his face and asked,
"Did something go wrong?"
"Ha… this is unexpected."
Buffett smacked his lips, looking as though he'd been struck across the back of the head.
"Apparently, someone else has snapped up the Russian bonds."
"What? Who?" Bill asked in shock.
Buffett answered with a bitter expression.
"They're saying it's a fund called Eldorado."