Balance of Power

    When, Fasano wondered, had Leo Weller begun shrinking? Perhaps the process had started with the trial lawyers and asbestosis, but a half hour with Charles Dane had left his colleague so stripped of his usual bluster that he seemed, quite literally, smaller. Even the residual shrewdness in his eyes reminded Fasano less of a crafty politician than a woods animal cornered by a predator.

    Although he knew the answer, Fasano asked, 'How was your talk with Dane?'

    ' 'With,' ' Weller answered with wounded dignity. 'You make it sound like a conversation. He reminded me they've got more money than the trial lawyers, and that there's no way I win a primary if they don't want me to. The kindest name he called me was 'capon.' I'm a United States Senator, Frank, not his fucking employee. I won't be treated like that.'

    Fasano mustered a look which combined sympathy and detachment. 'That's what happens when you turn out to be the vote we need to override Kilcannon's veto. It's the perfect storm of political screwups, Leo. You've alienated the trial lawyers, your supporters in the asbestos industry, the SSA, and your own leadership in the Senate. Now you're standing on the precipice, staring into the abyss of a career even deader than Kerry Kilcannon's. It's not a spectacle I've enjoyed watching.'

    Sinking farther into Fasano's couch, Weller folded his arms. 'It doesn't have to be like this.'

    'But it is like this,' Fasano said, not unkindly. 'You're not suggesting that you've never beaten someone senseless with their own mistake— real, or imagined? As I remember, you got here by accusing your opponent of 'flirting with the gay agenda' because he'd agreed to meet with somebody from the Human Rights Campaign—and only because his son, who is gay, asked him to hear them out. There's no one here who hasn't, at some time, been as tough as they needed. So why complain when the SSA feels aggrieved enough to do the same to you.'

    Unable to answer, Weller gave a shrug—part protest, part acknowledgment. 'This is worse.'

    'Agreed,' Fasano said, his tone a mixture of commiseration and curiosity. 'Just how do you get out of it?'

    Weller grimaced. 'That's what I'm asking, Frank. The asbestos companies are pissed at me. If I vote against the SSA it's suicide. But if I vote with the SSA, then the trial lawyers come after me, and put all my dying constituents right back up on television.'

    And you want me to save you, Fasano thought. The neatest trick since Lazarus was summoned back to life.

    'I can't grant you absolution,' Fasano said. 'Not from the SSA. But if you get out front, and switch your vote, you could precipitate the avalanche which buries Kerry Kilcannon. That could purchase a fair amount of amnesia from Charles Dane.'

    Slowly, Weller nodded. 'But that leaves the asbestosis,' he ventured.

    Fasano feigned reflection. 'That's where I can help, I think. Suppose you vote for the Civil Justice Reform Act, and then introduce a bill establishing a special fund for asbestosis victims and their families.'

    Weller cocked his head. 'How would it work?'

    'We'd have to think through the details. But once we get up a bill, Hampton can't oppose it and Kilcannon can't veto it. Because without lawsuits, your bill would be the families' best shot at a real recovery.' Fasano smiled. 'I can imagine that our Senatorial Campaign Committee might have an interest in running ads that show you meeting with grateful families. Who knows, the SSA might even finance a few of those itself.'

    That a cynic like Weller could look so genuinely grateful told Fasano how frightened he was. 'Frank,' he said in a voice filled with emotion, 'I think that could really help.'

    'It just might,' Fasano assured him comfortably. 'I really would hate to lose you.'

TEN

In the Oval Office, Kerry reviewed his phone messages. The last one, but the first the President answered, was from Senator Chad Palmer.

    They had not spoken for weeks. 'Weller's switching on tort reform,' Chad said bluntly. 'Fasano worked up some legislation to get him out from under asbestosis and the SSA. Fasano wants it secret until Leo meets the press tomorrow morning. But I thought you might care to know.'

    The magnitude of this understatement was exceeded only by the dire implications for Kerry's veto. In the House, where Speaker Jencks had set a vote for tomorrow, an override was certain, and now Fasano held a one- vote margin unless Kerry somehow found a way to steal one back. But as bad as this news was, the President was grateful to know it— what Fasano would define as Palmer's betrayal was, to Kerry, an act of grace.

    'Thanks for calling,' Kerry said simply. Chad did not put into words, and thus compel a response from Kerry, how sorry he was for what had happened to Kerry and Lara, or what seemed about to happen in the Senate.

* * *

    'The Senate's close to terminal,' Kerry told Lara. 'I don't know how I can get that vote back.'

    This assessment was preface to what she was about to see—a TV spot hastily prepared by Lenihan's group, the Trial Lawyers for Justice. 'Run it,' she told him quietly.

    Kerry pushed the remote button.

    On the screen, the blurry faces of a man and a woman were slowly splattered with mud, each addition marked by a soft thud. And then, as slowly, the mud slid down the photograph, revealing Kerry and Lara.

    This is what they've tried to do, the voice-over said, to make you forget.

    'I can't believe this,' Lara murmured.

    As they watched, their own faces gradually morphed into a photograph from the wedding, Inez and Joan holding hands with Marie. The picture zoomed in on Marie in her frilly dress, bright-eyed with delight. Then, accompanied by the soft, repeated clicks of a camera, her face became that of David Walsh, then George Serrano, then Laura Blanchard. The picture froze on Laura, fresh-faced and blonde, a basketball trophy pressed to her cheek.

    This is Laura Blanchard, the voice-over said. One more life too important to forget.

    The 'Civil Justice Reform Act,' the voice concluded with disdain. It's not reform, and it sure as shooting isn't justice. Tell your senator to help uphold the President's veto.

    Lara folded her arms, gazing at the carpet. 'Where do they want to run it?'

    'Any state where we have a fighting chance to flip a senator, with the telephone number for each. I'm not sure I could stop Lenihan's people if I wanted to.'

    With this admission of his helplessness, Kerry faced how much he was diminished—the forces of money and power on the left were overtaking him as surely as the vast resources of the SSA had overtaken Fasano. 'We're approaching the time,' he told Lara, 'where politicians are bit players, and Presidents reduced to props.'

    'Like my family is, you mean.' She looked over at her husband. 'Do you suppose Lenihan's still angling for a settlement?'

    The quietly caustic inquiry captured her own despair. After a moment, Kerry asked, 'What do you want to do about this?'