Balance of Power

    "That's the First Lady's mother, of course. In terms of the gun's 'design,' a lucky shot. What follows, as you will see, hews more closely to the P-2's design function."

    Once more, the picture came to life.

    "No," Joan Bowden screamed.

    As Sarah flinched, she heard five rapid percussive pops. Henry Serrano fell; then the young blonde student from Stanford, Laura Blanchard; then the second guard, David Walsh. Nolan's eyes became slits. "All five shots," Walters explained, "were meant for his wife. Instead, Bowden killed three strangers."

    Frozen, the picture captured Mary Costello, scrambling on the carousel. "That," Walters continued, "was when he turned his attention to the plaintiff."

    Mary Costello jerked into motion, crawling inside the mouth of the baggage tunnel as more bullets struck metal. Sarah's mouth felt dry. "Fifteen feet," Walters observed dispassionately. "Three shots. And still he couldn't hit her.

    "And so he turned to his wife again."

    Joan Bowden appeared, and then a bullet destroyed her lower face.

This time Walters's click of the remote made Sarah wince. "Note," he said, "the damage done by the Eagle's Claw. Note further that Bowden now has fired ten of them, and that the score stands at two intended victims, three random deaths, and five outright misses.

    Sarah looked away. The film and Walters's eerie commentary had reduced the others to silence. "The next death," he opined, "is where the design of the gun, its forty-bullet magazine, and the design of the bullet itself meet in deadly confluence."

    With a click of the remote, Marie Costello stared in horror at her mother's ruined face. Then she turned away, eyes shut, doll clutched to her chest.

    "With a ten-bullet magazine," Walters observed, "this little girl lives."

    The picture cut to Bowden. "Stop," a man cried out.

    The gun jerked in Bowden's hand. "In my opinion," Walters said blandly, "he didn't mean to shoot. But the trigger of the P-2 can pull at the slightest twitch. As designed."

    Marie lay amidst the shattered china pieces of her doll. Gaping in horror, Bowden put the gun to his head.

    Walters stopped the tape. "This is the twelfth shot," he concluded. "A not uncommon end to a domestic violence murder. Except that four people died at random, and one intended victim escaped. The plaintiff."

    On the screen, blood and cerebral matter spewed from Bowden's head. "Let's take ten minutes," Nolan said. Perhaps, Sarah thought with a certain bleak amusement, he felt the worst was over.

* * *

    "Picking up your inquiry on design," Walters said when the break was done, "Bowden got close because the gun was concealable. The sling enabled him to fire rapidly but randomly, resulting in accidental victims. The magazine gave him an eleventh bullet, and the hair trigger caused him to fire it at Marie. Who died because the Eagle's Claw is designed to kill.

    "Another gun, another bullet, and a ten-clip magazine—or any one of those things—and that murdered child would still be with us." Pausing, he gave the slightest shrug. "As for the others, Mr. Nolan, you're free to argue that three of them died at random. But in my opinion, they

all died by design."

    "By Bowden's design," Nolan corrected tartly. "Wouldn't you agree that the design of a gun is neutral in itself, and that the responsibility for a murder rests with the murderer, and not the manufacturer?"

    "Agree?" Once more Walters arched his eyebrows. "No. Not even if you don't impute responsibility for designing a weapon of death."

    "On what do you base that assertion?"

    "Lexington markets to criminals. You're aware of the SSA magazine which was found in Bowden's possession?"

    Nolan held up a hand. "Is any part of your opinion, Dr. Walters, based on your belief that Mr. Bowden relied on that advertising in acquiring the P-2? Or even, to a certainty, that he read it?"

    Walters hesitated. "No," he answered. "Not at this time. Though it's certainly reasonable to infer that Bowden saw it."

    "Perhaps to you," Nolan said dismissively.

    "Perhaps to me," Walters answered agreeably. "Certainly to Lexington. That's why they've worked so hard to place the P-2 in movies and TV crime shows, often in the hands of criminals. Which is appropriate— police don't use this gun."

    Sarah suppressed a smile. But Nolan was doing what he must—getting Walters to detail the opinions he would render at a trial, however harmful. "What other evidence," Nolan persisted, "do you have which suggests that Lexington 'markets to criminals'?"

    "The same evidence Lexington does. Start with the fact that the increase of gun violence in America coincides with the rise of the handgun. Rarely do hunting rifles show up in crimes, and even the shotgun is statistically insignificant . . ."

    "Every manufacturer in America," Nolan interjected, "makes handguns. Does that mean they're marketing to criminals?"

    Walters's eyes grew cold. "If they are, Mr. Nolan, they're nowhere near as successful as your client.