Balance of Power

    'Thank you,' Sarah said pleasantly. 'Did you threaten Mr. Bresler with the loss of his job should his trigger lock proposal be adopted?'

    'To feel 'threatened,' ' Dane countered, 'Mr. Bresler would have to be very sensitive. How can I threaten a man who doesn't work for me?'

    For a split second, she was tempted to question Dane about threatening Senator Fasano, but she resisted; too obviously, it would betray Martin Bresler's cooperation. 'Did there come a time,' she asked, 'that you became aware that Mr. Bresler was discussing gun shows with the President?'

    Again Dane's hesitance was marked. 'I'm not sure,' he finally answered. 'There came a time when Mr. Bresler ceased to be a factor in gun politics.'

    'At what point was that?'

    'The point when his members decided he was a divisive force, bent on his own self-aggrandizement, and disbanded the group.'

    'Did you discuss disbanding the group with any of its members?'

    'Instruct not to answer,' Fancher interrupted. 'On First Amendment grounds.'

    'Our motion to compel answers,' Sarah rejoined, 'will be thicker than the phone book.' Of Dane, she asked, 'Do you know a man named Jerry Kirk?'

    Dane shrugged. 'Jerry works for us.'

    'Directly before that, who employed Mr. Kirk?'

    'The Gun Sports Coalition, I believe. Bresler's group.'

    Sarah sat straighter. 'During his employment by the Gun Sports Coalition, did Mr. Kirk tell you that Mr. Bresler was negotiating with the President regarding background checks at gun shows?'

    'Ms. Dash,' Dane answered wearily, 'I have all sorts of discussions with all sorts of people. However much you might wish it, I can't recall them all . . .'

    'Let me get this right,' Sarah interrupted. 'You loathe President Kilcannon. You hate his policies on guns. You're vehemently opposed to background checks at gun shows. But you can't recall whether Kirk told you that the President was discussing background checks with Martin Bresler.'

    'No, I can't.'

    'Tell me, Mr. Dane, did you consider Mr. Bresler's group a 'divisive' force?'

    'Yes. Beyond that, I'd consider him a traitor to the Second Amendment.'

    Sarah smiled. 'And yet you offered Mr. Kirk a job.'

    'Yes.'

    'Before or after Mr. Bresler's group disbanded?'

    'What's the relevance of this?' Fancher broke in. 'I see none.'

    Sarah's gaze at Dane did not waver. 'You can answer, Mr. Dane.'

    Fancher clutched Dane's arm. 'Not before you explain the relevance.'

    'All right,' Sarah answered. 'I want to know whether Mr. Dane persuaded Kirk to spy on Martin Bresler in return for the promise of a job.' Pausing, Sarah spoke more slowly. 'If you want a further explanation, Mr. Fancher, I believe that the SSA controls the American gun industry—including Lexington, a former member of Bresler's trade association group. I believe the SSA blackballed Bresler. I believe the SSA threatened Callister. I believe the SSA seduced and bludgeoned other manufacturers to keep them from following Callister's lead.

    'I believe, in short, that Mr. Dane and the SSA are ultimately responsible for the murder of Mary Costello's family.' Turning to Dane, Sarah said softly. 'As part of the process which led to these three murders, Mr. Dane, I think you engaged Mr. Kirk to help you keep gun companies from freely making their own political and economic decisions—including imposing background checks which might well have prevented a tragedy. So I'm asking the reporter to read back the question, and then I'm asking you to answer it.'

    At once, Fancher stood, nodding toward Dane. 'This is harassment,' Fancher said in a tone of outrage. 'Mr. Dane's deposition is over. If you want him back, go to the judge.'

    With that, Fancher and Dane—the latter expressionless—left the room. Turning to Nolan, Sarah said, 'I guess that leaves George Callister.'

SE VEN

From the start, Frank Fasano had known that the meeting was trouble.

    The three other chairs around his office table were occupied by Tony Calvo of the Chamber of Commerce, Mary Bryant of the National Association of Manufacturers and, perhaps more worrisome, John Metrillo of the National Federation of Independent Businesses—the insurance brokers, shoemakers, pizza restaurant owners, and other individually owned enterprises whom the Republicans claimed to represent.

    Dark-haired, burly, and intense, Metrillo spoke in a rapid-fire staccato. 'We've wanted tort reform for years,' he told Fasano. 'Now Kilcannon's offering us something real. Until he's gone—whenever that is—it may be the best we can do.'

    There was no point ducking the issue. 'Not for the SSA,' Fasano answered. 'Dane's the one who got this bill up and running in the first place. But for that, Kilcannon wouldn't have offered you what little he has.'

    Clasping his hands, Metrillo leaned forward, intent on Fasano. 'Look, Frank—we'll support gun immunity, which we never have before. You can tell Dane that. It just has to be in a separate bill . . .'

    'Which Kilcannon will veto with impunity.'

    'Not our problem,' Metrillo answered with a shrug. 'For years our members have been asking if we'll ever accomplish anything. Whatever his motives, the President's offered us a lock . . .'

    'More like a poisoned chalice,' Fasano answered in mordant tones. 'You damned well know why he's doing it—to split the business community from the SSA by using you as pawns.'

    'Spare us, Frank.' Metrillo's tone was brusque. 'I'm not ashamed of winning, and I don't give a damn how.'

    Fasano looked to Calvo and Bryant, broadening the dialogue. 'Then let's define 'winning.' For me, it's passing a bill that gives you what you really want.'

    'Over Kilcannon's veto,' Calvo countered. 'All he needs is thirtyfour senators to uphold it, and we get zip . . .'

    'Kilcannon,' Mary Bryant interrupted, 'is delivering the trial lawyers. We want you to deliver the SSA.'

    Though angry, Fasano took his time. 'Ever since I reached the Senate,' he told them, 'your organizations have played both sides. On a national level, the SSA gives only to Republicans. So now I'm supposed to shaft Dane at your convenience.'

    'Before you 'shaft' him,' Metrillo answered, 'you might want to talk to him. We're hoping he'll see the point of having us as his allies.'

    Mirthlessly, Fasano laughed. 'I'll urge that on him, John. Unfortunately, Charles Dane is steeped in American history. From Benedict Arnold forward.'

* * *

    With a slow, theatrical turn of the head, Charles Dane looked at the grandfather clock in one corner of his office. 'At this time yesterday,' he told Fasano, 'Sarah Dash was trying to nail me to the cross. Now you want me to provide the nails, and the time she needs to use them.'

    'That's a little melodramatic,' Fasano answered with a sardonic smile. 'I hope the first Easter after your death won't prove to be too big a disappointment.'