Balance of Power

Lady, you intend to make reducing gun violence your cause. What will you tell the American people?

    Lara seemed to gather her thoughts. First, I will ask them to reflect on the over thirty thousand deaths we suffer every year. I will say to them, 'Listen to your own heart, your own intellect, your own experience of life, and decide whether you think this is the way our country has to be.' I will ask, 'What kind of world do you want for your children, or your children's children . . .'

    And what, Civitch interjected, would you say to the SSA itself?

    I would ask its members why we have this terrible division on guns.

    They're being asked to fear us, and they have nothing to fear. I'll never forget watching Charles Dane hold up his hunting rifle at an SSA convention and say, 'Kerry Kilcannon will have to pry this rifle out of my cold dead hands.' Lara paused, her voice thickening with emotion. I thought about that when I stood by my six- year-old niece's casket, looking into her face as I held her lifeless hand.

    Suddenly, she looked into the camera, saying softly, I don't want your hunting rifle, Mr. Dane. Kerry doesn't want it. Americans just want a country where this never happens to another child . . .

Don't do this, Dane silently warned her. It is such a grave mistake.

* * *

Finishing, Lara imagined the faces of those who watched her. 'I hope that many more of you will join us. There is so much for us to do, so many lives to save. And the cost of failure is more than anyone should be asked to bear.'

    For a moment, Cathie Civitch was silent. Then she said simply, 'Lara Costello Kilcannon, thank you.'

    Exhausted, Lara realized that the name still sounded strange to her. But that was who she was now. For her own sake, and Kerry's, she hoped she had done well.

* * *

In the silence, Kerry's phone rang.

    It was Senator Chuck Hampton. 'Tell the First Lady, Mr. President, that her interview was extraordinary, and deeply moving.'

    'Thanks, Chuck. I'll do that. And on your end?'

    Hampton laughed softly. 'If you mean my end of Pennsylvania Avenue, she's an asset. Frank Fasano can't be happy, and neither can the SSA.'

    Nor, Kerry realized, did he himself feel quite as happy as he could be. There was far too much to wonder about.

* * *

    After the last hour, Sarah realized, it was hard to refocus on her brief. When her telephone rang, she almost welcomed the distraction.

    'Is this Sarah Dash?' the woman asked.

    The voice sounded so familiar that Sarah felt her skin tingle. 'It is.'

    'This is Lara Kilcannon. Would it be possible to see you?'

FOUR

Sarah Dash and Lara Kilcannon met in the solarium.

    Sarah had never visited the White House. But she understood that this area was the First Lady's domain; that, for reasons of politics, Lara could not conduct her business in the West Wing; that she did not wish Sarah to be seen at all. For Sarah's part, no one but the Director of the Kilcannon Center knew that she was here.

    Briskly crossing the room, Lara took Sarah's hand. 'For two weeks,' she said with a smile, 'I didn't miss a day of the Tierney trial. Though I imagine you could have done without the cameras.'

    At once Sarah felt at ease. 'I hated them,' she acknowledged. 'And the media as a whole—the total invasion of privacy, this sudden interest in my personal life. I still can't pass through an airport without people coming up to me. Some of them are supportive. Others call me a babykiller. All I want is to crawl into a hole.'

    This seemed to strike a chord. 'Too late,' Lara said with sympathy. 'But everyone I know admires what you did. I know that Kerry was very glad to hear you'd joined the Kilcannon Center. He thought you were wasted in corporate law.'

    Kerry, Sarah thought. Already she felt the seductive power of the White House; on meeting, Lara Kilcannon referred to the President as though Sarah were an intimate. Though this flattered Sarah, it made her wary. The Tierney case, and its impact on the Masters confirmation, had taught her much about politics at the highest level—most of all that it was intoxicating, and that those who entered this world often pay too dearly.

    The thought brought her up short, and back to the First Lady. Lara Kilcannon was quite beautiful, with pale skin, black hair and deep brown eyes more sensitive than television conveyed. In another context, Sarah might have given in to the fascination of meeting her. In this context, she must redouble her efforts to keep her wits about her, mindful of the crosscurrents between the Kilcannons' aspirations, and her own.

    'Mrs. Kilcannon,' Sarah ventured, 'before we start . . .'

    ' 'Lara,' ' the First Lady requested good-humoredly. 'I know there's

a place for protocol. But 'Mrs. Kilcannon' sounds like one of those sour oil paintings they've hung on the first floor.'

    'Lara,' Sarah corrected with a smile, 'you want this conversation to be confidential. Does that mean, in your mind, that it's covered by the attorney-client privilege?'

    Lara's own smile reappeared, more faintly. 'It does. For now, let's assume that I'm a potential plaintiff in a wrongful death action against Lexington Arms. As is my sister Mary.'

    'And you're considering asking the Kilcannon Center to represent her, or you. Or both of you.'

    The First Lady nodded. 'The Kilcannon Center has been counsel in numerous suits against the gun industry. We think you can best represent our values.'

    Our values, Sarah thought. There was something more beneath the surface, beginning with Lara's pretense—which she clearly meant for Sarah to see through—that she herself was considering a lawsuit. Bluntly, Sarah asked, 'Does Mary agree?'

    A certain sadness, Sarah thought, surfaced in Lara's eyes. Watching, Sarah found her sense of caution tempered by a deeper feeling—that, for Lara, something still to be said occasioned genuine pain.

    'I don't know,' Lara answered simply. 'I haven't talked to her yet.'

* * *

    Sarah Dash, it was already clear to Lara, had a grasp of the unspoken and an intuitive sense of people. There