The markets were shuttered. Martin Luther King Day. Late afternoon. He was working. George Soros was at home in New York's Westchester County, inside a snow-wrapped, Gatsbyesque dream house, wrestling with the problem. It was as quiet as a bank vault, except for the occasional squeak of a chair, the ringing of the phone and Soros' soft, Hungarian-accented voice talking the problem through. He sipped at some hot tea, and when he put the cup down, that made some noise too.
The problem has bothered Soros for more than 40 years, tickled at him in his waking dreams in the...
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