Balance of Power

'aborted Senator Kilcannon's unborn child'; that she had exiled herself by taking an overseas assignment to preserve his political future; that after Kerry's subsequent divorce, 'having laundered their secret, Kilcannon and Costello presented themselves as newly involved, concealing the truth so that they could seek election as America's sweethearts'; and, finally, that 'their presence as First Couple is the result of cold-blooded infanticide and a coolheaded deception designed not only to disguise their moral unfitness but to endear themselves to an unsuspecting electorate.' The story was accompanied by a verbatim transcript of the counselor's notes from her postabortion interview with Lara, still dazed from anesthesia, her torrent of emotion recorded under the veil of supposed confidence.

    Kerry had never seen the notes. The devastation he found there evoked the visceral memory of his own desperation—making call after call which went unanswered; pleading with Lara through her voice mail to save their child; rushing to her apartment to find her gone; her final call to him, once it was done, to say that they had loved each other, that neither had intended harm, that their relationship was finished, that Lara was going away. 'I have to start over,' had been her final words. 'Please, if you still love me, the one gift you can give me is not to make it harder . . .' Then her voice had broken off, just before the click of her telephone preceded a dial tone.

    Looking up, Kerry knew at once that Kit had read it all. Within hours, the embarrassment and pain he could see on her face would be reflected, often with less charity, in the hearts and minds of every American within the reach of a television, or radio, or computer, or telephone, or newspaper, or of any friend, neighbor, coworker or stranger at a grocery store who had heard the story first. All that his adversaries had needed to do they had done: the Internet column was a pebble dropped in an electronic pond, and its ripples would swiftly reach the water's edge.

    'I've already prepared copies of our statement,' she told him. 'If we don't get it out now, the Bob Woodward game will start—a media freefor-all, with thousands of reporters competing for new details. At least this way the story will lead with what you have to say.'

    Gazing at the counselor's notes, Kerry shook his head. 'I don't think our statement covers this. It's not enough now.'

    When Kit had gone, Kerry called Lara and, a few difficult moments later, Minority Leader Chuck Hampton. Then he picked up a legal pad and swiftly scrawled some notes.

* * *

    At nine-fifteen, the President appeared in the White House press room. A stunned Frank Fasano watched his office television with Senator Paul Harshman; Fasano had known of the story for less than twenty minutes and he was still absorbing, with no little sense of dread, the pattern and meaning of the events which now enveloped Kerry Kilcannon.

    Kilcannon looked somber but composed. I have a brief statement to make, he began. I will not be taking questions.

    'My God,' Fasano said, 'it's true.'

    'Of course it's true,' Harshman answered with grim asperity. 'The only value he's ever held is accumulating power.'

    The caustic remark, Fasano found, induced a brief reflexive sympathy for the President he opposed—even in the face of personal conduct which appalled him. On television, the slightest edge of disdain entered Kilcannon's voice. Ten days ago, the President continued, Senator Jack Slezak came to the White House. He said that he'd received a warning— anonymous, he assured me—that if I vetoed the Civil Justice Reform Act certain facts regarding my life before becoming President would be made public.

    Dane, Fasano thought. Only this could explain the confidence with which Dane had assured him that Kilcannon would be beaten. Glancing at Harshman, Fasano surmised that he did not know. Through deliberate hints, Dane had wanted Fasano to discern—at the same time as Kerry Kilcannon—the secret behind Kilcannon's ruin and, to that extent, for Fasano to be complicit in the SSA's hidden exercise of power. Never again would Fasano doubt the risks of defying Charles Dane.

    Yesterday, Kilcannon said, I vetoed that bill. This morning an Internet columnist printed a story regarding my relationship to Lara prior to our engagement. In all factual respects—as opposed to its characterization of our motives or emotions—that story is true.

    'Even the abortion,' Fasano murmured. In his soul, he believed that abortion was the taking of human life; in the most graphic way, this illustrated the gulf between Fasano and a man he often thought to be devoid of spiritual values—a Catholic who passed himself as personally devoted to the teachings of their Church; a President who 'reluctantly' distinguished between his religious beliefs and what government could dictate in the realm of private conduct; an adulterer who—in the hidden recesses of his life—cared nothing for the life of his own child. With unsparing self-knowledge, Fasano realized that his disgust over Kilcannon's acts soon would distance him from his visceral horror at Dane's use of them, enabling him to coldly assess their impact in the public sphere.

    'It's over with,' he murmured. 'Certainly this veto, and maybe even his Presidency.'

    'If we don't take the lead,' Harshman answered, 'we don't deserve to be senators.' Weighing Harshman's words, Fasano reflected on how difficult it would be to walk the public line between disapproval and savagery in a way which served his goals. Once more, he focused on the President.

    But there is a deeper truth, Kilcannon said firmly. Personal lives are as complex as the reasons that people are happy, or sad. I'm lucky to have met the woman I was meant to be with. I don't think I need explain the hows or the whys, or that Lara need discuss with anyone a decision which—in simple decency—other women are allowed to make in private.

    ' 'In simple decency,' ' Harshman repeated with scorn. But the background buzz of astonishment from the press corps had yielded to silence.

    In any life, the President continued, there are decisions which keep us up at night, long after they are made. There are decisions which others would make differently. But I do not think a public burning should be the price of a public career. I trust the American people to judge us on how we fulfill the public responsibilities they have given us. Pausing, Kilcannon looked unflinchingly into the camera. For our part, we will do our best. But as to this deeply private matter, we have nothing more to say.

    With this, he turned, heading for the exit. Mr. President, a woman's voice called out, does this mean that Mrs. Kilcannon will cease to be a spokesperson regarding the gun issue?

    The President kept walking. Then, abruptly, he turned, fixing his inquisitor with a long cold stare. I really did mean nothing, he said. To you or anyone. You'll have to do without us.

    With that, Kilcannon left the room.

    'Well?' Harshman inquired.

    'No one said he lacks for nerve.' Pausing, Fasano made his tone imperative. 'I want the leadership in my office—now. We need to be disciplined, and let other people do whatever damage there's left to do. I don't want our senators on CNN before we've assessed the public mood.'

    'Don't you think,' Harshman objected, 'that we should lead the public mood?'

    Fasano appraised him. 'Have you stopped to wonder just where this story came from? I'll bet Kilcannon has. You may remember my predecessor, the once-powerful Macdonald Gage.' He slowed his speech to underscore each word. 'Suppose Kilcannon finds whoever planted the story. If that happens, you won't want to be their Siamese twin. So do me—and yourself—a favor, Paul. Shut up.'

    Before Harshman could respond, Fasano's intercom buzzed. 'You'd better drop whatever you're doing,' his Chief of Staff said tersely. 'Hampton's taking the floor.'