Balance of Power

    Mary looked sallow, thinner, so diminished by their conflict that Sarah, feeling both empathy and alarm, turned her focus back on Lenihan. 'I'm all for Mary being compensated. But isn't this lawsuit also about saving lives?'

    'Of course . . .'

    'Of course,' Sarah said with the edge of disdain. 'So shouldn't this settlement require Lexington to discontinue making the bullet which ensured Marie would die? Or the gun Bowden used to kill her, Inez, and Joan? And wouldn't a public disclosure of settlement terms help the President and encourage other gun companies to alter their behavior?'

    Lenihan slammed down his coffee mug. 'And requiring George Callister to commit public hari-kari would send an even stronger signal. But the SSA won't agree to any of that, and they're the ones who'll put up most of the money.' Facing Mary, he said more quietly, 'It's not just that the President may lose. Even if he doesn't, we may—because of Gardner Bond. It's not a betrayal of anyone to make a prudent assessment of the risks, and where you may wind up in the end.'

    'They're scared,' Sarah retorted. 'Far more scared than we are. In the last three weeks we've been killing them, and now Callister's coming up. If the President hangs on in the Senate—unless Bond throws us out before trial, which I don't think he can now—we're going to try this case in front of God and everyone.' Urgently, Sarah turned to Mary. 'That's why Dane went to Bob. Unless you stiff the President, this case will be worth a whole lot more than twelve million dollars. And you'll have the power to change how the American gun industry does business.

    'Bob's partners made an investment. They're worried they won't get it back. But that's the risk they took, and this isn't about their mother or sister or niece.' Sarah's voice softened. 'It's about yours. Before you take eight million dollars of hush money, please search your soul. Because it's also blood money. Once you take it, you can never give it back.'

    Mary's face betrayed a silent agony. Once more, Sarah felt the depth of her dilemma, paralyzed by her complex relationship with Lara and the President; her duty to her murdered relatives; her obligation to future victims; an offer of more money than she had ever imagined; and the diametrically opposed reactions of her lawyers. With palpable strain, she asked, 'How long do I have to decide?'

    'Seven days,' Lenihan answered. 'After that, Dane's taking all twelve million dollars off the table.'

    Mary touched her eyes. 'Seven days,' she repeated dully.

TWO

In the Oval Office, the President and the Majority Leader met alone.

    Fasano had requested the meeting. Kerry did not need to ask why; gun immunity hung in the balance of power between the President and the senator who intended to displace him. Though there were nine days left for the President to act, Kerry could veto the Civil Justice Reform Act at any moment. Then there would be no time for second thoughts, no brake on their collision course. The final reckoning was at hand.

    As to Fasano, the President's habits of mind had long since formed: Kerry assumed a cold, undeviating self- interest which made thinking of Fasano in human terms a waste of time. The President did not trust him; did not try to charm him; and thought the small amenities they must observe as hollow as a dumb show. He supposed, without caring, that Fasano felt much the same about him. In his most philosophical moments, Kerry might ponder the psychic costs of such learned indifference. But he had come far since Newark, and the harshness of his enemies had taught him that such reflections were a luxury.

    And there was Lara. Fasano might have a wife and children. Perhaps he even loved them. But Fasano the would-be President meant to seal Lara's tragedy to propitiate the SSA. Facing him now, Kerry felt far more than coldness.

    'Well,' he said. 'What is it?'

    Perhaps surprised by Kerry's dismissal of even superficial pleasantries, Fasano erased all expression from his face. His dark eyes met Kerry's without flinching. 'I think you're going to lose, Mr. President.'

    Kerry stared at him. Forced to elaborate, Fasano said evenly, 'Tort reform trumps guns. You're asking thirty- four senators to sink it merely because you want them to. All I need is one of them.'

    With a chill smile, Kerry glanced at his watch. 'Then don't waste time on me, Frank. You'd best get to it before someone else gets shot.'

    The laconic brutality of this response induced silence. The President watched Fasano weigh his words. 'This isn't personal to me.'

    Kerry shrugged at the implied rebuke. 'What is?'

    To Kerry's surprise, Fasano summoned a look which approximated compassion. 'I understand your feelings, Mr. President. I've got no wish to humiliate you, and it wouldn't serve my interests. Let's try to discuss this in that spirit.'

    Fasano's unblinking composure was, to Kerry, as annoying and impressive as his hubris. 'That's why we're meeting,' Kerry said with tenuous patience. 'So what are we discussing?'

    Fasano settled back on the President's couch. 'A deal.'

    'That's hard to imagine. Your interests are irreconcilable with mine.'

    'Substantively, yes.' Fasano's expression became one of deep sincerity, his tone quieter. 'But a train wreck would damage both of us, and our parties. Unless both of us choose to stop it.'

    The President considered him. 'Frank,' he said crisply, 'this isn't just a meeting between us two statesmen, moving to a higher plane. The SSA knows you're here. They authorized your call to me. So explain to me the statesmanship which can accomodate all three of us.'

    Fasano smiled without humor. 'I've consulted them, yes. We all have our Robert Lenihans.'

    Do we not, the President thought. He wondered if Fasano knew of Dane's back-channel offer, but could find no way to probe this. 'Please go ahead,' the President answered. 'I can always call Bob later.'

    'All right. The first part of my solution's simple: you don't veto tort reform.'

    The President smiled. 'Of course. That way you don't run the risk of trying, but failing, to immunize Lexington—after which it's exposed at trial as a bloodsucker effectively run by the SSA, your bankers. So what's the rest?'

    Fasano seemed unfazed. 'The rest is equally simple. I promise you a straight up-and-down vote on your gun bill—no amendments, no tricks, no filibuster. If you can get your fifty votes, you pass it. If not, you get to run on it.'

    That Fasano's air was so matter-of-fact, Kerry thought, made the context of his offer almost breathtaking. Behind Sarah's back, Dane had used Lenihan to ask Mary Costello to sell out both her sister and Kerry's political interests. Now, to Kerry's face, albeit through Fasano, Dane was asking the President to sell out Mary, Lenihan, Sarah—and Kerry's own wife. The only rein on Kerry's anger was his fascination with Fasano himself; if Fasano knew of Dane's offer to Mary Costello, his selfpossession was truly superhuman.

    Another thought gave Kerry pause. On the level of cold-blooded abstraction—of sheer calculation—the offer had its merits: the swap of a veto he might lose for a clean shot at passing a bill which would certainly save lives. And, if Kerry failed, the chance to use it in the open against Fasano and the SSA.

    For a moment the President could say nothing. Clayton had been right from the beginning—Kerry was now caught in a web of his own design, the personal and political so hopelessly intertwined that he could never disentangle them, or even parse his own motives. And for that moment, he envied Senator Fasano his detachment.

    But, in the end, there was only one answer.