It has become something of a Wall Street parlor game to try to figure out why Geithner got as involved as he did in the Bear mess and whether he was had by crafty bankers. Geithner insists that the Bear deal benefited the public and not just the other big banks, who stood to gain from their competitor’s going out of business. (Granted, it did help the banks, assuaging fears of an industry wipeout.) The implicit message is, Weep not for Bear but for what could have happened to the rest of us if it hadn’t been saved. Geithner is impatient with—and a bit teed off by—talk that he is pushing the Street’s agenda. “The Fed’s actions in this financial crisis will benefit Main Street more than they benefit Wall Street,” he asserts. He is certain that calamity was averted and that the people who gain most from the deal are not bankers but “the family who needs to borrow money to finance a house or send their child to college, or the individual trying to build enough savings for retirement, or the worker worried about losing her job.”

That sounds like campaign rhetoric, but Geithner is an avowedly apolitical independent—contrary to the assertion of one columnist that he was an adviser to John Kerry in 2004—and has served under both Republicans and Democrats. But he’s going to have a hard time remaining above the political fray, certainly in this election year, when, given the weak federal response to the subprime-mortgage crisis, the Bear Stearns bailout may anger voters.

Questions linger as to whether Geith­ner, who’s supposed to represent the public interest, ended up with the best possible deal. He’s an experienced negotiator, having wrangled with foreign powers during his days at Treasury, but some critics contend that he may have been outmatched by Jamie Dimon, J.P. Morgan’s chief executive, and Alan Schwartz, Bear’s C.E.O.  “He doesn’t really have what you would describe as a banking or financial background. He’s never taken risk, never worked as a trader or in credit, or even had operational responsibility in a bank,” says Chris Whalen, a vocal critic of the Fed and a managing director of Institutional Risk Analytics, a consulting firm.

After the Bear deal, the Fed wound up with $30 billion in collateral, mostly in the form of subprime-mortgage securities. Even Paul Volcker, the former Fed chairman who served on the search committee that picked Geithner and who still holds him in high regard, has expressed queasiness about the way the deal was structured. In a speech to the Economic Club of New York, Volcker said the Fed took actions that “extend to the very edge of its lawful and implied powers, transcending certain long-embedded central-banking principles and practices.” Volcker later leavened this harsh assessment a bit, telling me that the Fed’s intervention “was a proper action, but it was extraordinary—something that’s never been done before, in terms of calling upon that emergency power. It tells you how seriously they took it.”

Still, misgivings about the deal are hard to ignore, no matter how catastrophic the consequences of not intervening might have been. It doesn’t help that the deal is teeming with connections that are sure to raise questions. Dimon is one of the three class-A directors of the board of the New York Fed, and its head is Stephen Friedman, a former Goldman Sachs chairman, who still sits on the investment bank’s board. The New York Fed’s board also includes Richard Fuld of Lehman Brothers, a firm that is another oft-rumored potential candidate for a bailout. Fuld is a class-B director, meaning that he is elected by member banks, astoundingly, to represent the public. (Friedman is also supposed to be looking out for you: He was “appointed by the board of governors to represent the public.”) Thus Geithner reports to a board that is composed of people who are not only under his purview but would also benefit from any potential bailouts. The structure of the New York Fed’s board bears more than a passing resemblance to that of the New York Stock Exchange in the bad old days, when member firms, regulated by the N.Y.S.E., were heavily represented on its board.

Even more intriguing is Geithner’s informal brain trust, loaded with Wall Street luminaries. Since coming to the Fed in November 2003—recruited by then-New York Fed chairman Pete Peterson, co-founder of the Blackstone Group—Geithner has learned the ways of the financial industry at the feet of some of its biggest legends. He was almost immediately taken under the wing of Gerald Corrigan, a gregarious former New York Fed chief who is now a managing director of Goldman Sachs. Corrigan describes his relationship with Geithner as close, and it has flourished since Geithner’s first days at the Fed. Another frequent adviser—“you don’t want those things to get too formal,” Corrigan notes—is also a preeminent banker, Merrill Lynch C.E.O. John Thain, a Goldman alumnus and former head of the N.Y.S.E.  Over the years, Thain has often talked to Geithner—“sometimes I talk to him multiple times a day,” Thain says. Geith­ner’s network also includes former Fed chairman Alan Greenspan, an old acquaintance, as well as the heads of the European central banks, hedge fund managers, academics, and his immediate predecessor, William McDonough, architect of the 1998 Long-Term Capital Management bailout and now a vice chairman of Merrill.