Balance of Power

    'Did you,' Lenihan snapped, 'help the author write this manual?'

    Nolan turned to the witness. Trained on Lenihan, Reiner's bright blue eyes were chill. 'I talk to hundreds of gun enthusiasts every year, in person or on the phone. I can't remember them all, or what I may have told them.'

    It was the only answer he could give, Sarah knew—except the truth. 'Let's take ten minutes,' Nolan said abruptly.

    Lenihan shrugged. 'Fine. But once a client starts to lie, it's awfully hard to stop him.'

* * *

    Recommencing, Lenihan inquired without preface, 'Did you help design the Eagle's Claw bullet?'

    As though to relieve an aching joint, the witness squeezed his wrist. 'I only gave advice. From a marketing perspective.'

    'From a marketing perspective, what's the purpose of the Eagle's Claw?'

    'To have more stopping power.' Assertiveness returning, Reiner combined his squint with another show of teeth. 'If you're faced with bad guys, you want to eliminate the threat.'

    'By killing them?'

    'By stopping them.' Reiner's rough eastern-accented voice thickened with disgust. 'If you have to defend your family, you're not worried about making these fine distinctions.'

    Nolan placed a pen to his lips. Pausing, Lenihan smiled with a pleasure which struck Sarah as close to sensual. 'Are you aware, Mr. Reiner, of a single successful use of the P-2 against a rapist or an intruder?'

    Reiner frowned. 'I don't collect that kind of information.'

    'No?' Lenihan said with incredulity. 'I'd think 'that kind of information' would really help your marketing.'

    Reiner shrugged. 'Maybe it would.'

    'Would it also help if a police department bought Lexington P-2s?'

    'Maybe.'

    'Isn't that 'the kind of information' the Vice President of Marketing might want? Or does your driving lack of curiosity extend to the police?'

    'Objection,' Nolan cut in. 'Stop harassing the witness.'

    'Forgive me,' Lenihan answered with exquisite politeness, and trained his eyes on the witness. 'Does any police force in America use the Lexington P-2?'

    'I don't know.'

'What about military forces, whether at home or abroad.'

Reiner hesitated. 'The South African security forces did . . .'

Lenihan smiled. 'Before apartheid ended?'

'Yes.'

'Little wonder. Who uses it now?'

'We have a contract to sell P-2s to the government of Myanmar.'

    'The dictatorship of Myanmar, you mean. For what is euphemistically described as 'crowd control.' '

    Reiner's fingers tightened on his wrist. 'I'm just a workingman. I don't do foreign policy.'

    'Or foreign slaughter? Like the recent killing of twenty protesters against the 'government' of Myanmar.'

    'I don't know what they used.'

    'Why not? I'd think that would be one hell of a tool for marketing . . .'

    'Skip the editorial comments,' Nolan snapped. 'You can conduct this deposition with courtesy, or we can leave.'

    Smiling, Lenihan answered, 'We'll give Mr. Reiner every courtesy, John. Because we'd just hate for him to leave.' Turning back to Reiner, he asked, 'Isn't it true that American police or military forces don't buy the P-2 because it's not accurate enough?'

    The armpits of Reiner's dress shirt, Sarah noticed, were stained with damp circles of sweat. 'It's designed for rapid fire, Mr. Lenihan. If you fire enough, you get the job done.'

    Lenihan laughed aloud. 'That's why we're here.'

* * *

    By eleven a.m., after the witness's second break, the room had begun to feel stifling. Only Lenihan seemed cheerful.

    'Isn't it true, Mr. Reiner, that the design of the Lexington P-2 is based on a prior model, the P- 1?'

    'Basically.'

    'Why do you no longer make the P-1?'

    'Because it was outlawed by the assault weapons ban.'

    Lenihan's eyebrows flew upward. 'So how is the P-2 different from the P-1?'

    Reiner gave a brief, scornful laugh. 'We eliminated the perforated barrel which helped prevent jamming, and the threaded barrel, which allowed the user to screw on a silencer. All we needed to comply with that stupid law was to make our prototype inferior.'

    'Federal law,' Lenihan pointed out. 'After the P-2 replaced the P-1, didn't California ban it?'

    'But Congress didn't,' Reiner shot back. 'So we can sell in other states . . .'

    'In fact, didn't you use the ban in California to market the P-2 in Nevada?'

    Flushed, Reiner unknotted his tie. 'We didn't have to use it. Prohibition created a pent-up demand.'

    Sarah noted Nolan's frown, a tightening of lips. Press Reiner on that, she silently implored her cocounsel. Lenihan airily let it pass—or, she feared, was too fixated on his own design to notice. Pointing to the SSA magazine lying open in front of Reiner, he said. 'But you did write this ad, calling the P-2 an 'endangered species, banned in California'?'

    Reiner gazed at the printed words. 'Yes. Because it's true. California banned the gun, and then Kilcannon was elected President. Buyers should know they had an opportunity they might not have later.'

    'Including buyers in California?' Lenihan asked pleasantly, and Sarah realized that her co-counsel had missed nothing.

    'I wouldn't know,' Reiner answered, and glanced at the gold Rolex dangling loosely around his wrist. 'If it's not time for lunch, I need to use the powder room.'

    Lenihan hesitated, a predator interrupted. Glancing at Nolan, Sarah wondered again if he knew what Conn had told her, and how much trouble his witness faced.