Balance of Power

'knows that you'll need protection. I believe he's prepared to give it.'

    'To begin,' Dane said, 'we'll put up more money than we did the last time—at least four million.'

    The bargaining, Fasano knew, had begun. 'What else?'

    'Anything that's legal.' Dane's voice was cool and businesslike. 'After all, this is the last election before Chad Palmer's misbegotten campaign reform bill takes effect. We'll form groups to run 'independent' ads to support any senator who votes our way. We'll run an onslaught of radio and TV ads at the grassroots level. We'll tell our members to send the most generous checks they can to senators of our selection, and to the Republican Senatorial Campaign Committee.'

    'The problem,' Fasano told Dane, 'is that it'll be the SSA versus the President, with Kilcannon calling us SSA stooges . . .'

    'One more reason,' Dane retorted, 'for you to pass this now. The election's not for thirteen months. By that time, the Costello shootings will have cooled off—especially if there's no lawsuit. And we're much too smart to resurrect the issue in an election year.

    'Most of our ads won't even be about guns. We'll hit the candidates who run against your people on crime, antiterrorism, prayer in school, lowering taxes—whatever works from state to state. The way the law is now, the Democrats won't know who ran them until six months after they've lost.

    'Even you won't know, Frank. But you'll still have your majority, maybe bigger. And that will make you the preeminent leader of your party.'

    At this unmistakable allusion to his Presidential prospects, the room became silent. Kelsey Landon had stopped smiling.

    'You know what Charles can do,' Landon said at length. 'Not just with money, but by turning out his people.

    'If Republican senators don't go along, he'll invest in Democrats who will—in Montana, the Dakotas, the South, or wherever gun companies are key employers. He'll engage the folks who work in the chain of distribution: dealers, distributors, employees. He can rally four million members, not to mention reaching the nearly forty million households which own guns . . .'

    'Our message is simple,' Dane interjected. 'Today it's the P-2 and the Eagle's Claw, but tomorrow it's your gun. Right now, we could gen erate mail, calls, and faxes ten to one in our favor on any gun immunity bill we propose.

    'I've made our own head count of shaky Republicans and persuadable Democrats. Do your damnedest, Frank, and we'll help get your sixty-seven votes. After that, Kerry Kilcannon won't be the most powerful man in Washington. It'll be you.' As Dane leaned forward, his gaze, penetrant and unblinking, impelled attention. 'As for us, if we can quash this lawsuit, and then defeat Kilcannon's gun bill, we'll bury gun control for a generation. Maybe for good and all.'

    Fasano stared at him. 'Not if you bring a bill Kilcannon can claim is meant to 'quash' the memory of a murdered six-year-old. Then it would be about the Eagle's Claw. You'd be better off trying to put a cap on damages.'

    'That's not enough,' Dane shot back. 'The legal fees alone are bleeding the industry to death. And we don't want Kilcannon using Bob Lenihan to root around in Lexington's files, or interrogate its employees.'

    What, Fasano wondered, was the SSA afraid of? Quietly, he said, 'Then you'd be better off with a law that never mentions guns. Something like 'No manufacturer, dealer or distributor will be liable for the use of a legal product in an illegal act by any person not under its direction or control.' '

    Briefly, Landon smiled—an affirmation that, all along, Fasano had been one move ahead. In response, Dane's eyes, again fixed on Fasano, were keen.

    'Tell us how to pass it,' Dane said.

    'By playing well with others,' Fasano answered. 'You need to tuck your language in a major tort reform bill backed by every lawyer-hating institution in America: the airlines, aircraft manufacturers, liquor and tobacco companies, auto makers, tire companies, employers with environmental problems, even the people who make farm implements.

    'Then you reach out beyond the obvious—to fast-food businesses, for example, or accountants, or investment bankers. You immunize teachers against lawsuits, thereby neutralizing a union which always supports Democrats. You get HMOs to form 'Citizens for Better Medicine' and saturate the airwaves. You even limit punitive damages against charities like the American Cancer Society.'

    Pausing, Fasano looked from Landon to Dane. Both were silent, attentive, expressionless. 'Most important,' Fasano continued, 'you rally all their employees to the cause.

    'We need to bury the idea that we're pandering to the merchants of death. Our bill is a job protection measure, keeping greedy lawyers like Bob Lenihan from bankrupting companies and putting ordinary people out of work. It's also a consumer protection measure, insulating other ordinary people from outrageous verdicts which they wind up paying for in the form of higher consumer prices.

    'That's the message we should keep on driving home: spurious lawsuits clog the courts and subvert our core belief in individual responsibility. Coffee is supposed to be hot—if Aunt Minnie spills it and burns her fingers, it's her fault, not McDonald's. Or yours.' For the first time, Fasano smiled. 'After that, we can depict Kilcannon and the Democrats as the wholly owned subsidiary of America's most loathed minority—the trial lawyers who buy corporate jets, two-hundred-foot yachts, and baseball teams which overcharge for hot dogs.'

    'The Chamber of Commerce,' Dane reminded Fasano, 'has tried to pass that bill for years. They never have.'

    'That's because they've never had the troops. You do. With your muscle and your money, placed at the disposal of a broad coalition, perhaps you can get this through . . .'

    'And you,' Dane interjected, 'will have made your business constituency happier than it's ever been.'

    'Of course,' Fasano said with a shrug. 'Why stop with you?'

    'I'm sure that's fine with the SSA,' Landon put in. 'But up to now the tort reform community has avoided the gun issue like the plague.'

    'And they've lost, haven't they? As Charles points out. By now, a lot of them will want the same provision which immunizes gun manufacturers.

    'Let me give you an example. A couple of years ago our leading auto manufacturer was sued in San Francisco—where, I'm sure, Lenihan intends to bring this suit. The plaintiff was drunk, was speeding, and plowed into an embankment on his own. The gas tank in his car exploded, killing both of his children. But instead of blaming the driver, the jury focused on the fact that the company had done a cost-benefit analysis of the money required to make its gas tank one hundred percent safe, and decided that perfection wasn't worth it. So the jury awarded a billion dollars in punitives to a drunk who killed his kids.' Pausing, Fasano said with irony, 'Understandably, the company's chief lobbyist talks about it still. So I think you'll find him newly sympathetic to your goals.'

    'We need more than sympathy,' Dane retorted. 'A bill that broad will buy us a battle with Kilcannon and the trial lawyers tantamount to nuclear war . . .'

    A quiet knock on Landon's door interrupted Dane as Landon's very pretty assistant entered with a silver tray —assorted sandwiches and small desserts, with a Diet Coke for Dane, a mineral water with lime for Fasano, and a bourbon on ice for Landon. Sipping it, Landon waited until she left.

    'Frank's right,' he told Dane. 'And so are you. Frank would have to persuade your silent partners to share the cost of some pretty expensive fun.' Sitting back, Landon tasted the bourbon on his lips. 'The bill would come through the Commerce Committee—Chad Palmer's committee, unfortunately, since the shake-up when Frank replaced Gage as Majority Leader. You'll need a lobbyist to work each committee member. Also, you should make a donation to the state party of any of the members who are up for reelection.'

    Dane's smile held a trace of cynicism. 'I assume you can help us direct all that.'

    Landon nodded. 'If you like,' he said amiably.

    Fasano watched in silence. He had seen the process before—an interest group setting out to use its muscle