Balance of Power

    Lenihan gave him a cynical smile. 'Let's start there, Mr. Bresler.'

    Bresler hesitated. 'No.'

    This, Sarah was certain, could not be true. As if reading her thoughts, Lenihan asked, 'How did you select Mr. Pritchard to represent you?'

    Bresler glanced at Pritchard. Quietly, he said, 'I knew of him by reputation.'

    'You'd never met him?'

    'No. Not before this case.'

    'How did you hear of Mr. Pritchard?'

    'I don't recall.'

    Lenihan's face set. 'Isn't it true that the SSA recommended that you hire Mr. Pritchard?'

    'No.'

    'Then who's paying your legal fees?'

    'Objection,' Pritchard interjected. 'Direct not to answer . . .'

    'On what basis?' Lenihan snapped.

    'Because,' Pritchard said in a laconic drawl, 'it's outside the scope of discovery. And protected by the attorney-client privilege . . .'

    'Outside the scope of discovery?' Lenihan repeated incredulously. 'Not if the SSA's paying your fees.'

    'Same objection,' Pritchard said. 'Same instruction. Move on.'

    'Move on to the judge, you mean.'

    'Fine. Have anything else, Mr. Lenihan, or are we through here?'

    Lenihan sat straighter. 'Have you,' he asked Bresler, 'discussed this case with Mr. Fancher or Mr. Nolan?'

    Bresler glanced at Pritchard. After a moment, Pritchard nodded. 'Yes,' Bresler answered tersely.

    Lenihan's expression was grim. 'With whom, precisely?'

    'With both.'

    'Where, and when?'

    'Yesterday. In this room.'

    'And who paid your expenses to get here?'

    'Objection,' Pritchard said. 'Outside the scope of discovery.'

    'We didn't object when you asked.'

    'That's your privilege, counsel. Or your lapse. You can take that to the judge, as well.'

    Lenihan paused a moment, reining in his temper, and then turned back to Bresler. 'What did you discuss with Mr. Nolan and Mr. Fancher?'

    In Bresler's liquid eyes, Sarah imagined, there was a look of shame. 'My testimony.'

    'And what did Mr. Fancher and Mr. Nolan say about your testimony?'

    'Objection,' Nolan interjected. 'The substance of our conversation may reflect the legal strategy of counsel and, therefore, is protected from disclosure by the work-product doctrine . . .'

    'That's not absolute,' Lenihan interjected.

    'True. But before you get an answer, the information must be unavailable by any other means.' Nolan's faint, annoying smile returned. 'My questions today have already elicited the relevant information. You're simply unhappy with the answers—as, apparently, you were upon meeting Mr. Bresler at Sea Ranch. To me, the one enduring mystery is why you listed him as a witness.'

    Pritchard nodded his agreement. 'In light of that,' he told Lenihan, 'I'm bound to honor Mr. Nolan's request. I'm directing the witness not to answer any substantive questions about his discussions with defense counsel.' Abruptly turning to Bresler, he said, 'Let's put this to rest, Martin. Did anyone in that meeting ask you to lie, or to change your story?'

    'No.' Bresler stared at the table. 'All Mr. Nolan said was to tell the truth.'

    There had been several ways, Sarah thought dejectedly, for someone to arrange Bresler's subornation. Nolan and Fancher could have been an active part of it. More likely, even now they only suspected what Sarah thought had happened after she had listed Bresler as a witness: that Dane had suborned Bresler directly, to avoid the exposure of his own perjury, and then directed Bresler to Pritchard—who had arranged to choreograph this recantation with Harrison Fancher and John Nolan.

    'The witness's meeting with defense counsel,' Lenihan reiterated, 'goes to the heart of our case: whether the SSA controlled—and continues to control—the American gun industry and, specifically, Lexington Arms.'

    Silent until now, Harry Fancher turned a spiteful stare on Lenihan. 'You,' he spat out, 'have brought a complaint against the SSA without any basis in fact. If you didn't know that before now—which I doubt— Mr. Bresler has just explained it to you.

    'You can either drop my client from the case, or we'll ask Judge Bond to order your firm and the Kilcannon Center to pay every dime of our expenses. And to refer you and Ms. Dash to the State Bar for your professional misconduct.'

    With that, Sarah knew, the SSA's trap had shut.

ELE VEN

It had been startling to be called by the First Lady. Calling her felt presumptuous. But Sarah and Lara Costello Kilcannon had formed a partnership, however tentative. And Sarah was desperate.

    'Today was a disaster,' Sarah reported baldly. 'Martin Bresler took back everything he had told us.'

    'Everything?'

    'Yes.' Restless, Sarah stood, and walked to her office window. 'As of now, we've got nothing on the SSA.' She hesitated, and then asked, 'Can the President use the antitrust division to investigate them?'

    'No.' Lara's voice was quiet. 'I'm sorry, Sarah. Politically, Kerry just can't do it.'

    You led me to Bresler, Sarah wanted to retort. But she could not, in fairness, blame Lara for whatever the SSA had done to Martin Bresler. 'We're in trouble,' Sarah confessed. 'Not just our case against the SSA, but against Lexington. Charles Monk couldn't place Bowden at the gun show. Neither can we.

    'Lexington claims not to have the records of where they shipped the gun. Under the law, the first sale of any gun has to be made through a licensed dealer—who may well have sold the gun to whoever resold it to John Bowden. We need to find that person, and we're absolutely stymied.'

    Lara was silent. At length, she asked, 'And you think Kerry can help?'

    'I don't know,' Sarah acknowledged. 'But I was hoping the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms might be able to find out something. At least we have a serial number, and tracing crime guns is part of what they do.' Pausing, she gazed out at the scattered lights of the South of Market area, the bare streets and low-rise buildings surrounding the Kilcannon Center. 'If we can't prove that Bowden bought the P-2 at a gun show,' she finished, 'we also can't prove—to a legal certainty—that Lexington and the SSA caused the murder of your family.'

    This time, Lara's silence stretched far longer. 'Thank you,' she said at last. 'For telling me, and for everything you've done. I'll do the best I can to help you.'