On the Brink (27 page)

Brady’s report wasn’t a complete surprise, given the Street’s doubts about Lehman’s health, but it was shocking nevertheless. There was a more than $20 billion difference between what Lehman said its assets were worth and their true value. The CEOs were left wondering how their firms could fill a hole that size and what other bad assets—and losses—they would be asked to take.

With their background as major custodian banks, JPMorgan and Bank of New York Mellon had led the way on the “lights out” scenario. Noting the frailty of the market, and especially of the banks’ funding sources, Bob Kelly of Bank of New York Mellon remarked: “We have to figure out how to organize ourselves and how to do something, because we’re toast if we let this thing go,” he said.

I reiterated the severity of the situation. “I’m just going to say bluntly that you need to help finance a competitor or deal with the reality of a Lehman failure,” I told them.

“We must be responsible for our own balance sheet and now we’re responsible for others’?” Blankfein asked. “If the market thinks we’re responsible for other firms’ assets, that ups the ante.” The market, he believed, would now see all the investment banks as more vulnerable.

His observations had to trouble every free-marketer in the room. At what point were the interests of individual firms overridden by the needs of the many? It was the classic question of collective action. If the firms were forced to jointly support one failing institution, would they have to pony up aid for the next player to run into trouble? Where would it end? And what would the impact be on anyone’s ability to discern the industry’s true health? Potential investors assessing any bank’s balance sheet would have to consider not only its assets and liabilities, but whether it had properly accounted for the risk that it might have to bail out any one of its competitors. Under the circumstances, how could the market accurately gauge the condition of any financial institution?

When we stepped out into the main lobby, I noticed that the Fed building was filling up quickly. Before long, it seemed as if everybody I knew from Wall Street was there—CFOs, chief risk officers, heads of investment banking, senior staff from financial institutions groups, and specialists on lending, real estate, and private equity. Dozens of bankers were working on foldout tables spread throughout the lobby, in rooms off the lobby, and in offices all over the building, trying to come up with a rescue plan. Barclays had set up shop four floors above; Lehman was on the sixth floor; Bank of America was working at its New York offices. Each bank had a team of lawyers, and an unmistakable war-room atmosphere was evolving.

Tim and I decided we should meet individually with Jamie Dimon, Lloyd Blankfein, and John Thain. Jamie and Lloyd were the CEOs of the two strongest institutions and had been reducing their exposure to Lehman. We believed others would likely follow if they stepped up as leaders of a collaborative effort to save the stricken bank. John was a different matter entirely. Tim and I were concerned that if Lehman went down, his firm, which had the next-weakest balance sheet among investment banks, would be the next to go. We planned to ask him to find a buyer for Merrill Lynch.

Shortly before 11:00 a.m., Tim, Dan Jester, and I met in a 13th-floor conference room with Bank of America’s deal team: CFO Joe Price, head of strategy Greg Curl, financial adviser Chris Flowers, and legal adviser Ed Herlihy. Price and Curl explained that after poring over Lehman’s books, Bank of America now believed that to get a deal done it would need to unload between $65 billion and $70 billion worth of bad Lehman assets. BofA had identified, in addition to $33 billion of soured commercial mortgages and real estate, another $17 billion of residential mortgage-backed securities on Lehman’s books that it considered to be problematic. In addition, its due-diligence team had also raised questions about other Lehman assets, including high-yield loans and asset-backed securities for loans on cars and mobile homes, as well as some private-equity holdings. The likely losses on all of those bad assets, they estimated, would wipe out Lehman’s equity of $28.4 billion.

We asked if they would be willing to finance any of the assets they wanted to leave behind or take more losses. They said no.

To say the least, it was a disappointing session. Price and Curl weren’t even working off paper—they simply sat back in their chairs, reeling off ranges of huge numbers that would require an enormous private-sector bailout. At another time it might have been a humorous charade, but we were desperate to find a solution. Still, I wasn’t prepared to give up just yet, so I asked them if they would be available for a meeting or a call later to discuss in more detail what assets they wanted to leave behind. At a minimum I wanted to keep BofA warm as a bidder, because the presence of another buyer would help us negotiate more effectively with Barclays.

As everyone got up to leave, Chris Flowers motioned me aside and said, “Hank, can I tell you what a mess it is over at AIG?” He produced a piece of paper that he said showed AIG’s day-by-day liquidity. Scribbling arrows and circles on the sheet to outline the problem, Flowers told me that according to AIG’s own projections the company would run out of cash in about ten days.

“Is there a deal to be done?” I asked.

“They are totally incompetent,” Flowers said. “I would only put money in if management was replaced.”

I knew AIG was having problems—its shares had been pummeled all week—but I didn’t expect this. In addition to its vast insurance operations, the company had written credit default swaps to insure obligations backed by mortgages. The housing market crash hurt AIG badly, and it had posted losses for the last three quarters. Bob Willumstad, who had shifted from chairman to CEO in June, was expected to announce a new strategy in late September.

I relayed Flowers’s information to Tim, and we agreed to invite Willumstad over. He surprised me by saying Flowers shouldn’t attend. “Flowers is the problem, not the solution,” Willumstad said. I suspected that Chris was trying to buy pieces of AIG on the cheap, and I promised he would not be part of the meeting.

Tim and I met privately with Jamie Dimon. A number of CEOs had expressed concern to us that he was using the crisis to maneuver his bank into a stronger position. Indeed, some were convinced that he wanted to put them out of business entirely. We led off by raising these complaints. Jamie assured us that JPMorgan was behaving responsibly but pointed out that he ran a for-profit institution and had an obligation to his shareholders. I emphasized that we needed him to play a leadership role in averting a Lehman Brothers failure.

Then, because I respected his judgment, I pressed Jamie for his assessment of the situation. Did he think we had a chance of putting together an industry agreement to save Lehman? He said it would be difficult but possible. The European banks would have a tougher time getting a quick decision from their boards and regulators, but he felt they would probably come through, too. In the end, I felt reassured that I could count on Jamie’s leadership.

Tim and I spoke to Lloyd in the afternoon. He was still questioning the idea of a private consortium, given the weakness of the industry.

“Do you think this makes sense?” he asked us. “What will you ask for next week when Merrill or Morgan Stanley goes?”

“Lloyd, we’ve got to try to stop this thing now,” I said.

“Goldman will act responsibly,” he replied. “We’ll do our part, but this is asking a lot, and I’m not sure it makes sense.”

Tim and I believed that both Lloyd and Jamie would ultimately support a private-sector consortium, and I was optimistic that the CEOs would come up with a plan. Now we had to make sure that Barclays was on board.

Tim and I returned to the first floor about 3:30 p.m., shortly after Lloyd left, and reconvened a group meeting with the CEOs. I assured them that Barclays seemed interested and aggressive. I didn’t bother talking about BofA. It was obvious from the morning meeting that the Charlotte bank had lost interest. I asked the group to intensify its efforts and find a way to finance any assets Barclays might want to leave behind.

The CEOs were testy, but in what I felt was a productive way. They were being asked to risk billions of dollars. They had been getting due-diligence reports on the quality of Lehman’s assets from their people, and they knew that to make the math work, they would have to make a loan secured by assets worth much less than their stated value. In other words, they would have to take a mark-to-market loss the moment a deal was completed. The question was: how much would they eventually get back?

Vikram Pandit asked why banks like Citi, which had retail-based funding sources, should have to put up as much as those that relied on wholesale funding. After all, it was the investment banks, which lacked consumer deposit bases and depended on the institutional money markets, that were in trouble.

“You’ve got as much wholesale funding as anybody here,” Lloyd Blankfein shot back at Vikram. “And because you’ve got the Fed behind you, you’re like a big utility.”

As ever, Jamie Dimon zeroed in on specifics. “Barclays is going to buy all the assets they want and assume all the liabilities they want, but what liabilities are they going to leave behind?” he asked. “Are they going to take tax liabilities and shareholder litigation from prior years, or is that being left for the Street?”

Tim and I met one last time, for just a few minutes, with Curl and Price from Bank of America. But we made no progress. By the time we had our third call with Barclays that day, at 4:30 p.m., BofA was out of the picture. Everything now depended on the British bank.

Each time we had spoken on Saturday, our discussions had become more granular as Barclays focused on the quality of Lehman’s assets and the due diligence they needed to perform. Earlier, Barclays had also mentioned that its regulator, the Financial Services Authority, wanted to be sure the British bank had an adequate capital plan in place to back the deal, an understandable requirement that we expected could be met.

Now Bob Diamond raised a new, troubling issue. Given the size of the transaction being contemplated, he said, it appeared that Barclays might be required, in accordance with its London listing requirements, to hold a shareholder vote to approve the merger. He said he hoped a vote wouldn’t be needed, but if it was, would the Federal Reserve guarantee Lehman’s massive trading book until the deal was approved? The vote could take 30 to 60 days.

Tim carefully replied that the Fed was unable to provide any such blanket guarantee. But if a vote proved to be necessary, Barclays should quickly come up with their best ideas on how to deal with it, and the Fed would examine its options.

Even as I strived to maintain industry backing for a Lehman deal, Merrill Lynch had been weighing on my mind. The weekend had bought the firm a little time, but I hated to think what would happen come Monday—especially if we couldn’t save Lehman.

Around 5:00 p.m. John Thain, responding to my invitation, walked through the door of my 13th-floor office. He had never been good at hiding his emotions; now he looked somber and uneasy. Tim had to take a phone call, so I began the meeting alone.

By this point, I had begun to suspect that BofA had set its sights firmly on Merrill and the legions of retail stockbrokers that I knew Ken Lewis had long craved. But I wasn’t positive that this was the case, and I felt the need to make sure John understood the seriousness of the situation: Merrill was in imminent danger and he needed to act.

As we talked about the lack of options for his firm, I could see that the full impact of the crisis had settled on John. Just as with Lehman, I stressed, the government had no powers to save Merrill. Under the circumstances, he should try to sell the firm. He said he was exploring his options and talking with Bank of America, Goldman Sachs, and Morgan Stanley. He asked what I thought about a merger between Merrill and Morgan Stanley. I told him it didn’t make sense: there would be too much overlap, and the market wouldn’t like it.

“I agree,” John said.

We also discussed Bank of America. I told him that I believed that BofA was the only interested buyer with the capacity to purchase Merrill. Still, John’s manner was somewhat evasive. I couldn’t tell if he really wanted, or intended, to sell the firm. He himself may not have known at that point.

AIG’s Bob Willumstad arrived at the New York Fed late in the day, accompanied by his financial and legal advisers. We sat down in a conference room on the 13th floor. Willumstad, a soft-spoken man who had once run Citi’s global consumer group, was very candid, admitting that AIG had a multibillion-dollar liquidity problem stemming from losses in its derivatives business and an imminent credit rating downgrade. He now told us that without a big infusion of money, AIG estimated it would run out of cash as soon as the following week. He described efforts to raise $40 billion in liquidity by selling certain healthy insurance subsidiaries to private-equity investors and by using some unencumbered securities from its insurance subsidiaries as collateral. Doing so would require the approval of Eric Dinallo, the superintendent of insurance for New York State. Bob said that the New York regulators supported the plan, and he was optimistic that the problem would be resolved by the end of the weekend.

I knew that Willumstad had gone to Tim earlier to see if AIG could have access to the Fed’s discount window in an emergency, and that Tim had said he couldn’t loan to a nonbank like AIG. It gave me a chill to think of the potential impact of AIG’s problems. The firm had tens of millions of life insurance customers and tens of billions of dollars of contracts guaranteeing 401(k)s and other retirement holdings of individuals. If any company defined systemic risk, it was AIG, with its $1 trillion balance sheet and massive derivatives business connecting it to hundreds of financial institutions, governments, and companies around the world. Were the giant insurance company to go under, the process of unwinding its contracts alone would take years—and along the way, millions of people would be devastated financially.