Balance of Power

The inside photograph showed a grim George Callister emerging from the White House.

    ' 'KFK,' ' Kerry mused, 'sounds like a bucket of fried chicken. Thus far, my speech has completely failed to move Fasano.'

    Nor would it. In his first public comments, Fasano had counseled the Senate to 'help craft prudent safety measures which don't infringe the legitimate rights of forty million American gun owners.' This, Kerry knew, signalled a strategy of delay, in which Fasano hoped gradually to restore the Senate and the American public to their prior state of narcolepsy.

    'As for Hampton,' Kerry continued, 'the messages he got yesterday were a lot more hostile.

    'It's an SSA blitz, of course. Chuck owns his seat as long as he's still breathing. But there are a good half dozen Democrats who won't be so detached.'

    Quiet, Lara gazed at the wooden deck. Her weight had stabilized, and she looked more as she had before the murders. But there was a permanent sorrow in her eyes, reflecting a wound, Kerry feared, from which she would never quite recover. Part of her still could not accept, upon awakening each morning, that most of her family were dead, or that their murders had set in motion a brute exercise in power politics. And yet, coolly determined, she was directing secret negotiations for a primetime interview which, as one of the contestants put it, would be 'the first words America will hear Lara Kilcannon speak since the tragedy which changed her life forever.' Or, in the caustic aside of Connie Coulter, 'the biggest media 'get' this side of your own wedding.'

    In fact, the media had responded with an avidity which impressed even Lara. 'I've received enough floral displays,' she told Kerry, 'to fill a funeral home, and enough baskets of fruit to feed America's homeless.

    'And the letters.' Plucking a letter from a thick manila folder, she read, ' 'Only through our network can people truly know of your thoughts and feel your emotions. A prime-time interview on Deadline could transform you into the most inspiring—and important—woman in our history.' ' Lara shook her head. 'If only my mother could have lived to see that.'

    This last, Kerry thought, was said with irony, sadness, and a certain melancholy humor. 'Imagine,' Kerry remarked, 'what you could have accomplished by throwing in some sex.'

    'Or by killing someone myself.' Lara began riffling through her file. 'In a particularly dark moment, I asked Connie to find a web site I remembered, filled with letters from the media importuning the Unabomber for an interview. Try this:

    ' 'The only way to truly understand someone is to see their eyes, hear their voice, their inflections, their passions . . .' '

    'Rasputin,' Kerry interjected, 'died too soon . . .'

    'Or this: 'I was born not far from where you live now.' ' Lara laughed softly. 'Which, as it happened, was a maximum security prison in Idaho.

    'Of course, not all of it was quite so droll. When I got to the letter saying, 'To many, you are a hero and a pioneer,' I realized what a mercy it was that Joanie's husband killed himself. Or the two of us would be competing for prime time.'

    For a moment, Kerry was silent. 'What are you going to do?'

    Lara looked up, her hair blowing in a light breeze. 'Go with NBC, I think. I trust Cathie Civitch—she didn't try to endear herself, or exploit our past relationship. And they offered me Dateline and Today, which would give me the largest potential audience.'

    Spoken like a professional, Kerry thought. 'Live or tape?' he asked.

    'They want me to do Dateline live—the more spontaneous the interview, the theory goes, the more powerful it will be. No doubt they think more people will watch to see if I break down.' For a moment Lara paused, as though interrupted by sadness and disbelief. 'The tape will only be aired once, on Today—no snippets on Entertainment Tonight, Headliners and Legends, or some special on First Ladies. No prime-time interviews with Charles Dane, or anyone from the SSA.' Her voice softened. 'No questions about that tape of the murders. No footage of my family dying in the promos.'

    Once again, Kerry's heart went out to her. But all he said was 'Good.'

* * *

    After dinner, when night had fallen, they sat on the deck drinking brandy. 'This lawsuit,' Lara said, 'do you really think it's that important?'

    'I think it's a fact of life. Could you stop Mary if you wanted to?'

    Lara gazed into the darkness. 'Probably not,' she answered. 'To Mary, I have a wealth of avenues for acting out my grief. She has only this.'

    Quietly, Kerry gazed at the white dome of the Capitol, glowing in the distance. 'Since 1938,' he told her, 'every serious gun safety proposal has enjoyed overwhelming public support. But Congress weakened or rejected them all. In 1968, when Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy were shot, they couldn't even manage to ban bullets like the ones which killed Marie.

    'For the SSA, this is Armageddon. They can't lose, especially not to me, or else the balance shifts. Once they're no longer invincible, they're a PR problem for the GOP and a lot less scary to Democrats. So they'll do anything to win, and they've put so much sweat and money into the Republicans that the Speaker and Fasano have no choice but to go along. As for Callister, they've got him by the balls.'

    'But a lawsuit could be your leverage.'

    'Mary's lawsuit,' Kerry answered succinctly, 'could destroy Lexington Arms. And that not even a President can do.'

    For a moment, Lara reflected. 'And then you could break the SSA's stranglehold on the industry.'

    Kerry nodded. 'In a lot of states, like Georgia, the SSA's been able to get laws passed immunizing gun companies from suits by public entities. The only kind of suit they haven't been able to wipe out is wrongful death actions by victims' families.' He sipped more brandy. 'The California legislature would never bar your sister from suing over the deaths of two women and a child millions of people came to know, and whose murders they witnessed on television. If I were George Callister, I'd be terrified of a jury.'

    As Lara listened, Kerry saw the pain of memory replaced by the cool scrutiny of the war correspondent she had once been. 'Which would you prefer, Kerry? Destroying Lexington? Or forcing Callister to give you what you want?'

    Kerry shrugged. 'I'm indifferent. Either would show the gun industry that the SSA can't protect them.'

    Lara settled back, brandy snifter cradled in the palms of both hands. 'There's just one problem,' she said evenly. 'This would be Mary's suit, not yours.'

    'We'd need to reach an understanding . . .'

    Lara held up her hand. 'Joan resented me to the end of her life. Now you want me to take over Mary's life.'

    Kerry touched her arm. 'Once Mary sees what I'm after . . .'

    'Just who,' Lara broke in, 'do you expect to make her see it? After all that's happened to us, I really can't believe you want me to do this. Have you completely forgotten how complex families are? And how little of mine is left?'

    Kerry met her gaze. 'So what do you do now, Lara? Do you help me honor their memory? Or let Mary just cash in?'

    Lara fixed him with a long look of appraisal. 'I thought I knew you,' she said softly. 'Heart and soul. What surprises marriage brings.'

    Quiet, Kerry stifled the urge to reach for her. 'I'm sorry,' he answered. 'But liberals too often whine, while conservatives do whatever it takes.' He paused, then finished evenly, 'With Mary's help, we can redress the balance. She should have that choice.'