Balance of Power

    'Here it comes,' Clayton said to Kit.

    Several days ago, I received a letter from George Callister, the president of Lexington Arms. Senator Harshman read it to the Senate. But in the difficulties of the moment, I could not find the words to respond.

    I do so now.

    To Mr. Callister, I say, I fully appreciate and understand the spirit of your letter. I invite you to meet with me, alone, to seek ways to end these needless deaths. With lives at stake, we must not fail.

    'Callister,' Clayton murmured with a smile, 'will regret that letter more than he could ever know.'

    On the screen, the President gazed up at the gallery, and then at the members of Congress. Before he was murdered by a man with a gun, Kilcannon finished, Robert Kennedy admonished us 'to tame the savagery of man, and make gentle the life of the world.'

    In the name of our common humanity, let us begin.

    Beginning among the Democrats, a deep roar of approval issued from the well of the House, swelling as members applauded with both hands raised aloft for the President to see. Utterly still, Kilcannon made no move to leave. And so President Kilcannon, the commentator intoned, has launched a personal crusade against gun violence in America . . .

    'Eighty-eight percent,' Kit said. To her utter surprise, her eyes had welled with tears.

* * *

    Dane turned from the screen. 'We can't let him split off Lexington,' he told the others. 'The little bastard means to pressure George Callister.'

    'We stopped Callister before,' Fell answered.

    'It'll be harder now.' Dane turned to Campton. 'Get onto the Internet. Ask our members to e-mail Congress, especially Democrats. And tell them how to reach everyone on Lexington's board.'

    Campton nodded. 'How do we respond?'

    'With care. Fasano's right about that. The line should be that we sympathize with Kilcannon, but that he's drawn the wrong lesson—you should be able to pass down a gun to your eighteen-year-old son, or sell one to your next-door neighbor, without putting them through a background check. This isn't a police state, after all. At least not yet.

    'As for safety locks, he's proposing the 'Criminal Protection Act.' Think some rapist will wait for his victim to fiddle with a safety lock?'

    'Kilcannon's overreaching,' Campton agreed. 'But what's the right lesson?'

    'Tougher law enforcement. John Bowden should never have been out on bail. We support better domestic violence records, and stiffer sentences. Period.'

    After five minutes, Wolf Blitzer was saying, the applause for President Kilcannon continues unabated. On the screen, Lara Kilcannon gazed down at her husband.

    This is the crest, Dane promised them. Tomorrow begins the fall.

    'As soon as you can,' he ordered Fell, 'set up that meeting with Fasano.'

* * *

    Hours later, having said goodbye to the families, Kerry and Lara lay in bed.

    'You were right about Mary,' she told him. 'Bob Lenihan has approached her about suing Lexington Arms.'

    Kerry laughed softly. But he had begun to feel the residue of a sustained adrenaline rush—a vague depression, the first echoes of self-doubt. In a quiet tone, he told Lara, 'I did the best I could.'

    'The best anyone could,' she assured him. With that, knowing that he needed this as much as she, Lara slipped into his arms.

THIRTEEN

The next morning, after a lengthy telephone call with the Secretary General of the United Nations, Kerry greeted Bob Lenihan in the Oval Office. 'Your speech was perfect,' Lenihan assured the President. 'As incisive as a final argument to a jury.'

    Why was it, Kerry wondered with some amusement, that even Bob Lenihan's compliments sounded like self- praise. 'This jury,' he answered wryly, 'is considerably larger. And in the case of their elected representatives, a good deal meaner and more self-interested. I needed to make them wonder if voting against me might not be riskier than they thought.'

    Lenihan smiled. 'Seems like you succeeded.'

    And so, this morning, it did. The editorial reaction across the country was uniformly favorable, and the media's overnight polls confirmed Clayton's instant soundings. Congress, Alex Cole reported, already had been inundated with phone calls, faxes, and e-mails, in which—for once— support for Kerry outnumbered the dire warnings of gun rights supporters. 'For now,' Kerry cautioned Lenihan. 'But the Speaker and Frank Fasano have just started to dig in.'

    Lenihan sat back, as though soaking in the sunlight through the windows of the Oval Office. But even in repose, his imposing frame and visage—square jaw, restless blue eyes, determined pouter pigeon's mouth— reminded Kerry of a man bent on consuming everything around him. Others found this feral aspect close to frightening; Kerry accepted Lenihan's boundless self-absorption as the necessary engine of a plaintiffs' lawyer's makeup, which—albeit with caution—the President could usefully employ. 'That's what I wanted to talk about,' Lenihan said at last. 'The long haul. Has Lara thought about suing Lexington Arms?'

    Kerry summoned an expression of mild surprise. 'A wrongful death action? There's no way, Bob. It would make last night's speech—in fact, everything we say or do—look like we're bent on lining our own pockets.'

    Lenihan's blue gaze was shrewd and appraising. 'I understand, Mr. President. But it really is too bad. The part of the speech I most enjoyed was when you summarized Lexington's paltry response to the murders, and then set up this guy Callister. By the time you're through with him, I'd bet there'll hardly be a prospective juror in America who won't be hell-bent on taking Lexington to the cleaners.'

    Kilcannon smiled briefly. 'Is that what I was doing last night? Poisoning the jury pool?'

    'In a word—yes.' Lenihan's own smile was knowing. 'A fortuitous by-product of 'making gentle the life of the world.' '

    Lenihan was no fool, Kerry thought again, when it came to hidden motives and complex calculations. No doubt it came from Lenihan's clear understanding of his own. 'Even if that was what I intended,' Kerry responded, 'and even if Lara could bring suit, what would it buy me except for a distraction I don't need?'

    'Leverage. And a public relations tool of incalculable value.' Lenihan made a quick chopping motion, as if cutting to the core of Kerry's challenge. 'Right now you're playing in two arenas—Congress, and the 'court of public opinion.' To win in those two dimensions, and beat the SSA, you need a third dimension: litigation.

    'A lawsuit against Lexington for its role in bringing about the wrongful death of Lara's mother, sister and niece will transform the gun debate. We can turn that fucking company inside out.'

    'Whereas I can't.'

    'How could you, Mr. President? By setting loose the Justice Department? Under what pretext? You'd look like the tyrant the SSA's always claimed you are.' Lenihan's mouth framed a smile of anticipation. 'I can expose