Balance of Power

    Nolan drew himself up. "I must advise you, sir, that we may be forced to bring a motion to reopen your deposition. And that the necessity of doing so may delay your sister-in-law's case from coming to trial."

    "We're both lawyers," the President answered. "So we both know that such a motion would be groundless—your effort to manufacture yet more delay, not mine.

    "You have, I understand, managed to conceal all discovery from public view. I can certainly see why. But you'd have to bring this motion you're threatening in open court, before the press and public, urging that Lexington has the right to insinuate itself into our lives even more than it already has. I'd welcome the chance to respond. So, I think, would Lara."

    For once, Nolan seemed without words. His motion, Sarah felt confident, would never see the light of day. Next to her, Lenihan inquired lazily, "Are we through here, John? Some of us have things to do."

* * *

That night, as Lara slept, Kerry went to the Oval Office.

    In the top drawer of his desk was a file of notes written in his own hand—conversations with Joan, the telephone number of the District Attorney's office and, later, the security firm. The final document was his own copy of John Bowden's letter.

    He had not dared to look at it in weeks. Now he could not stop reading it. All that served to distract him from the words was his even more indelible memory of the murders themselves.

FIVE

The next morning, when Kerry returned to the Oval Office, he brought with him a copy of the SSA Defender magazine.

    The cover featured a caricature of President Kerry Kilcannon sipping champagne in white tie and tails, captioned in bold letters, "Has this man ever been to a gun show?" The article inside praised gun shows as a place for "American families to enjoy the sporting traditions central to our way of life." Kerry flipped to a page he had marked with a paper clip, a calendar of gun-related events.

    Underlined in red was a gun show in Las Vegas. He placed it next to a typed itinerary for the next two days, built around a speech in San Francisco. Then he picked up the telephone and called Kit Pace. "I want to change tomorrow's schedule," he told her.

* * *

    Bernadette Fasano was one week from her due date and her husband—who despised cell phones, but was committed to being present for the delivery of each of their children—had stuffed a phone in his pocket before he left home. It was still there when, at noon, he ate a sandwich with Charles Dane in the SSA's conference room.

    Dane pressed the start button on a VCR. "What you're about to see," he said in an orotund impression of a television reporter, "is just one of the many important pro bono services of America's trial lawyers."

    On the screen appeared photographs of Henry Serrano, David Walsh, and Laura Blanchard, the other victims in the Costello shootings. Scrolling beneath them were the words of Lexington's advertisement in the SSA magazine. Their faces faded to black, and a quiet voice asked, "Just who is the 'endangered species'? "

    "Is this from Lenihan's group?" Fasano inquired.

    "Yup. They've started running ads in major media markets. We're compiling their greatest hits."

    The next spot focused on Felice Serrano, holding a photograph of her late husband playing a board game with their children. I pray that every member of Congress will remember George before they vote against gun safety . . .

    "Shameless," Dane remarked. "She may be mouthing the words, but I can hear Robert Lenihan speaking to a San Francisco jury."

    Abruptly, Felice was succeeded by the faces of several children under ten, appearing with their ages above the words "killed by classmates." These, the voice-over explained, are some of the eighty children killed every week by guns. But Senator Fasano thinks that safety locks to save their lives threaten our freedom. What's more important than the freedom to grow up?

    Despite his hard-earned thickness of skin, Fasano realized that he felt defensive. When Dane gratuitously observed, "They're making you the target," Fasano considered responding, And it's you who put the bull'seye on my forehead.