Balance of Power

each side waiting for a break in the other's ranks which might not come.

    'It's up to you,' Hampton told him bluntly. 'This isn't about tort reform anymore, or even about adultery. It's about blackmail, and whether a Democratic President who stood up to it will fail or succeed.'

    Coletti folded his arms. 'I gave you my vote against gun immunity, and you lost in spite of that. There are significant interests in my state absolutely wedded to this bill.'

    'Vic,' Hampton said with ominous quiet, 'I don't give a shit about the fucking insurance companies in Hartford. The SSA set out to destroy this President. He's got an extremely long memory, and so do I.'

    Absently, Coletti rubbed his beak of a nose, eyes focused on Hampton. 'You're beginning to remind me of him, Chuck. That's not how you became the leader.'

    'Maybe not. But I intend to become Majority Leader, and for that I need a President strong enough to help carry us to victory.' Hampton smiled. 'Maybe then your parochial concerns will cut more ice with me. But in the meanwhile, you might want to check in with Tony Calvo. Something tells me that Tony and his friends might give you a little more slack than I will.'

* * *

    Shortly before noon, Senator Hampton went to see the Majority Leader.

    With a calm and amiable demeanor, Fasano waved his rival to a chair. 'What can I do for you, Chuck?'

    'Get out of the way.'

    Surprise delayed Fasano's smile by fractions of a second. 'Just like that?'

    Leaning forward, Hampton spoke with more conviction than he felt. 'There's a backlash building. What the SSA had going for it was fear. And the residue of fear, when it subsides, is hatred.

    'You miscalculated, Frank. You married tort reform to the SSA because you had no choice. Now you're trapped—just like George Callister was trapped. The best thing that can happen to you is for the President to destroy the SSA.'

    The smile lingered in Fasano's eyes. 'Don't you think,' he asked, 'that it's a little more complex? Or, perhaps, less. Beating Kilcannon is good. Losing to him is bad. Put more artfully, it has adverse implications for my future.'

    'Getting out of the way,' Hampton answered, 'is different than getting crushed. Or getting tarred with the SSA.'

    In the recesses of Fasano's gaze, Hampton glimpsed a disquiet he could not pin down. 'Thanks for the advice,' the Majority Leader told him pleasantly. 'But you should assume that I'm going forward.'

    With a civil handshake, Hampton headed for his office, intent on phoning Senator Palmer. But the senior senator from Ohio was already taking Fasano's call.

FIFTEEN

Two hours after Hampton's warning, amidst rumors that Senator Coletti was about to switch his vote, Frank Fasano watched impassively as Vice President Ellen Penn recognized the senior senator from Ohio.

    'A few hours from now,' Chad began, 'we are scheduled to vote to uphold, or override, President Kilcannon's veto. A few moments ago, the senior senator from Idaho suggested that we should hold this vote some other day —that in this 'emotional time' we cannot trust our reason.' Pausing, Palmer turned toward Senator Harshman, allowing himself a hint of sarcasm. 'Is this atmosphere any more 'emotional' than it was four days ago, when the Majority Leader set a vote after the President acknowledged the fact of—and the grounds for—an attempted act of blackmail? Or did it become too emotional only when we learned the identity of the blackmailer?

    'Enough of this. Let us vote, and be done with it.'

* * *

    Crowded into the Oval Office, the President, Clayton, Kit, and his legislative relations team watched C-SPAN. No one spoke. No one knew what Palmer would say. Though he held the balance of the Senate in his hands, the senator from Ohio had told them nothing.

    Where there is fact, Chad admonished his colleagues, we need not fall back on emotion. And the facts are clear enough.

    The SSA sabotaged Martin Bresler.

    The SSA threatened Lexington Arms with economic ruin.

    The SSA—as Mr. Callister has now made clear—asked the Congress under false pretenses to place it above the law.

    The SSA attempted to remove the final obstacle—the President—by the most despicable means . . .

    'If I were Fasano,' Kit ventured hopefully, 'I wouldn't like the trend.' But the President, intent on Palmer, did not respond.

    Now, Palmer continued, the president of the SSA tells us that the president of Lexington is not to be believed. He tells us, having smeared the President of the United States, that an honorable businessman—who finally became too sick of Mr. Dane to cover up for him—is lying.

    For what? To ruin his own career?

* * *

    'He's a turncoat,' Dane snapped at the screen. Sitting beside him, Carla Fell said nothing.

    We know better, Palmer told the Senate. So let us not pretend that we don't know who the liar is. Or, for that matter, the blackmailer . . .

    He could ride this out, Dane told himself. The SSA would not simply crumble in the face of these attacks, throwing Dane to the wolves to propitiate its enemies. The e-mails in response to his appearance on Larry King were proof that its members believed him—the most important 'fact' of all.

    With knowledge, Palmer went on, comes responsibility. I was a principal sponsor of this bill. I advanced the interests of the SSA. For me to say now that I dissociate myself from their tactics, but not their goals, would be unconscionable.

    Carla Fell spoke at last. 'Palmer's more than a turncoat, Charles. He just stabbed Fasano in the back.'

* * *

    Palmer's voice filled Sarah's office. Tort reform, he said firmly, is a worthy goal. Some other day, I will fight for any bill but this. But the principle at stake today is not tort reform, but who we are and how we do business. And that moral imperative impels us to tell the SSA—as did President Kilcannon after another ruthless lobby sacrificed my daughter to their aims—that we do not do business this way.

    Watching, Mary told Sarah, 'I think we did it.'

    Sarah felt a moment of pure elation. Perhaps, in the end, she had made the