Balance of Power

    "Charles expressed his disappointment in no uncertain terms. In his view, compromising with Kilcannon would embolden him to further attack gun rights."

    "Did you agree?"

    For the first time, Bresler looked up. "Obviously not."

    Perhaps, Sarah allowed herself to hope, Bresler had decided not to alienate the Republicans, but would tell the truth about the SSA. Silently, she urged him to resist John Nolan.

    "During this conversation," Nolan asked quietly, "did Mr. Dane threaten you in any way?"

    Bresler folded his arms. "He did not."

    "Or any members of your group, such as Lexington Arms?"

    "No."

    "How would you describe the conversation?"

    Nolan, Sarah recognized, was phrasing his questions as though he already knew the answers. Bresler resumed staring at the table. In a voice so soft that it was barely audible, he said, "Very professional. Charles's tone was 'more in sorrow than in anger.' I appreciated that."

    Shaking his head in disgust, Lenihan stared at Bresler. Evan Pritchard turned to him. "Let the record reflect, Mr. Lenihan, that you're engaging in a series of muttered asides and discourteous gestures toward the witness. I have to ask you to behave professionally."

    "Define 'professional,' " Lenihan said with genuine anger. "Does that mean suborning perjury, as you and Mr. Nolan are doing now? Or does being professional consist of watching you do it?"

    Bresler, Sarah noticed, briefly closed his eyes. "I hope," Pritchard answered coldly, "that you're prepared to take these charges to the bar association. If not, I'm prepared to advise Judge Bond that you made them without grounds, and let him determine the appropriate sanction."

    Sarah placed a hand on Lenihan's arm. "Let it go," she whispered. "You're making things worse."

    Lenihan turned to her, flushed. "How could I?" he whispered back in an accusing tone. "You based an entire complaint on the word of this fucking weasel."

    Expressionless, Nolan sat there as if nothing had happened. After a silence consumed by Pritchard's continuing stare at Lenihan, Pritchard turned to Nolan, and nodded.

    "Did there come a time," Nolan asked Bresler, "that you discussed with President Kilcannon a possible agreement regarding voluntary background checks at gun shows?"

    "Yes."

    "Did you discuss that proposal with anyone from the SSA?"

    Bresler shook his head. "I had no need. I knew Charles was opposed."

    As Nolan sat back, placing a pen to his lips, Harrison Fancher trained a fixed gaze on the witness. Still Bresler did not look up.

    "For what reason," Nolan asked, "did you and the President fail to reach agreement regarding gun shows?"

    Bresler bit his lip. "My trade association disbanded."

    "For what reason?"

    "I lost the support of my members." Bresler's tone was soft, almost rote. "I got carried away with myself, and tried to move too fast. The companies I represented weren't comfortable with that."

    "How do you know that?"

    "Three CEOs called me—a majority. They felt I was splitting the gun movement, being too high profile. In retrospect, they were right."

    It was perjury as recantation, Sarah thought, a confession of error worthy of a Stalinist show trial, delivered in the manner of a beaten man. And she could only watch.

    "Did any of these CEOs," Nolan asked, "attribute their attitudes to the SSA?"

    "No."

    "Do you have any basis for believing that the SSA did anything to disband your organization?"

    Bresler shook his head, a vague, disheartened gesture. "No."

    "Did you ever discuss the SSA with Mr. Callister?"

"I did not."

    Nolan leaned forward. "In short, Mr. Bresler, are you aware of any basis in plaintiff's complaint for the allegation that the SSA controls Lexington Arms?"

    With an expectant glance, Pritchard turned to Bresler. Hunching farther in his chair, Bresler responded, "None whatsoever."

    Savagely, Lenihan whispered, "Except for you, you little fuck."

    This time Pritchard ignored him. "Indeed," Nolan continued, "didn't the SSA hire your top aide, Jerry Kirk?"

    Bresler's nod was almost as imperceptible as his voice was hushed. "Yes."

    "And how did that happen?"

    There was a brief pause. "Charles Dane hired Jerry," Bresler answered, "as a favor to me. I was worried about Jerry's family."

    Stunned, Sarah stared at him. But Bresler had yet to look at her. "And so," Nolan concluded, "as far as you know, Charles Dane's only action in connection with the disbanding of your group was the benign one of hiring Jerry Kirk."

    "Yes."

    With this, Sarah thought, Bresler's subjugation was complete. "Did there come a time," Nolan asked,"when you met with plaintiff's counsel—Mr. Lenihan and Ms. Dash?"

    Though Bresler raised his eyes at last, his tone and manner remained robotic. "At Sea Ranch. Shortly before they filed their complaint."

    "At whose initiative did it occur?"

    "Ms. Dash called me."

    Nolan's expression became a barely perceptible smile. "And who paid your expenses?"

    "Plaintiff's counsel."

    "What was the purpose of the meeting?"