Balance of Power

    "No." Bresler stared at the table. "All Mr. Nolan said was to tell the truth."

    There had been several ways, Sarah thought dejectedly, for someone to arrange Bresler's subornation. Nolan and Fancher could have been an active part of it. More likely, even now they only suspected what Sarah thought had happened after she had listed Bresler as a witness: that Dane had suborned Bresler directly, to avoid the exposure of his own perjury, and then directed Bresler to Pritchard—who had arranged to choreograph this recantation with Harrison Fancher and John Nolan.

    "The witness's meeting with defense counsel," Lenihan reiterated, "goes to the heart of our case: whether the SSA controlled—and continues to control—the American gun industry and, specifically, Lexington Arms."

    Silent until now, Harry Fancher turned a spiteful stare on Lenihan. "You," he spat out, "have brought a complaint against the SSA without any basis in fact. If you didn't know that before now—which I doubt— Mr. Bresler has just explained it to you.

    "You can either drop my client from the case, or we'll ask Judge Bond to order your firm and the Kilcannon Center to pay every dime of our expenses. And to refer you and Ms. Dash to the State Bar for your professional misconduct."

    With that, Sarah knew, the SSA's trap had shut.

ELE VEN

It had been startling to be called by the First Lady. Calling her felt presumptuous. But Sarah and Lara Costello Kilcannon had formed a partnership, however tentative. And Sarah was desperate.

    "Today was a disaster," Sarah reported baldly. "Martin Bresler took back everything he had told us."

    "Everything?"

    "Yes." Restless, Sarah stood, and walked to her office window. "As of now, we've got nothing on the SSA." She hesitated, and then asked, "Can the President use the antitrust division to investigate them?"

    "No." Lara's voice was quiet. "I'm sorry, Sarah. Politically, Kerry just can't do it."

    You led me to Bresler, Sarah wanted to retort. But she could not, in fairness, blame Lara for whatever the SSA had done to Martin Bresler. "We're in trouble," Sarah confessed. "Not just our case against the SSA, but against Lexington. Charles Monk couldn't place Bowden at the gun show. Neither can we.

    "Lexington claims not to have the records of where they shipped the gun. Under the law, the first sale of any gun has to be made through a licensed dealer—who may well have sold the gun to whoever resold it to John Bowden. We need to find that person, and we're absolutely stymied."

    Lara was silent. At length, she asked, "And you think Kerry can help?"

    "I don't know," Sarah acknowledged. "But I was hoping the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms might be able to find out something. At least we have a serial number, and tracing crime guns is part of what they do." Pausing, she gazed out at the scattered lights of the South of Market area, the bare streets and low-rise buildings surrounding the Kilcannon Center. "If we can't prove that Bowden bought the P-2 at a gun show," she finished, "we also can't prove—to a legal certainty—that Lexington and the SSA caused the murder of your family."

    This time, Lara's silence stretched far longer. "Thank you," she said at last. "For telling me, and for everything you've done. I'll do the best I can to help you."

* * *

"Tell me about Leo Weller," Kerry asked.

    Clayton smiled grimly. "It's even worse than we thought. For Leo, that is. And for quite a few of his constituents.

    "The problem is a vermiculite mine in Libby, Montana. Vermiculite is a material used to make pottery . . ."

    "Then what's this about asbestosis?"

    "Vermiculite," Clayton answered, "turns out to be a form of asbestos. But the company, Montana Mines, assured the workers it wasn't harmful. So they were bringing it home on their clothes, also exposing their wives and children. Essentially, the entire town was infected with asbestosis. The death toll's over fifty, with a lot more folks on respirators, fixing to breathe their last."

    Angry, Kerry shook his head. "Stories like this give the lie to laissezfaire. Some poor guy shows up at work, thinking to support his family, and what he's really doing is killing himself. And maybe them, as well." He paused, reverting to the practical. "So what's Leo done about it?"

    "Worse than nothing. When a victims' group from Libby asked to see him, he sent an aide. Now he's put a clause in Fasano's tort reform bill, immunizing Montana Mines from liability." Clayton's tone became sardonic. "To my complete surprise, the CEO is one of Leo's chief supporters—and fund-raisers."

    "I always knew," Kerry said disgustedly, "that Weller was one of the dumbest men in the Senate. But to be so callous, and such an obvious whore, suggests that Leo still has room for growth."

    Clayton nodded. "As you say, Leo's a prime subject for TV spots."

    "No one," Kerry agreed, "can say he's not deserving. I wonder how Bob Lenihan's group of trial lawyers might react to Leo's blunder."