Balance of Power

    "Our Constitution is the product of the Founding Fathers' steel-gut, iron-jawed, unflinching devotion to a freedom bought with their own blood. And you are their heirs, with the honor and duty of saving that freedom from the tyranny of this illegitimate President, King George in a pin-striped suit . . ."

    The outcries commingled anger and derision. Gazing at the shadowy figures, Dane felt a surge of hope that he could defeat his enemy. "Like King George," he called out, "Kerry Kilcannon is waging war on you. But his war is a culture war—a latter-day McCarthyism which denigrates you and everything you hold dear. If you believe that white pride is equal to black pride; that gays are not more equal than straights; and that singling out gun owners is like singling out Jews, then—in the world of our new McCarthy—you're 'politically incorrect.' " Bathed in light, Dane flashed a smile of defiance and disdain. "But true Americans know a simple truth—the Founding Fathers of political incorrectness were the American heroes who signed the Declaration of Independence in defiance of a tyrant.

    "You must not be silenced. You, not Kilcannon, are the true voice of America." Dane's own voice became a shout. "And with our voices raised, we must tell America the truth—that this self-styled 'KFK' is the worst threat to our freedoms since we rid the world of Communism, and that we will never be safe until we're rid of him forever . . ."

    With the deep roar of the crowd Dane felt transported by his power. He stood, fists upraised, suffused by the seemingly endless sound of their devotion. He remained silent, still, until, like an actor, the drama of his stillness drew them back at last.

"There are only two sides," he told them, "his, and ours. The Senate must choose between us."

* * *

In her efficiency apartment on Capitol Hill, Cassie Rollins watched Dane achieve near rapture on CNN. Yes, she thought, the Senate must choose. She did not look forward to that moment.

TWENTY-ONE

If the purpose of deposing an expert witness was to help him hang himself, Sarah meant to be as helpful as possible to Dr. Frederick Glass.

    "Dr. Fred," as he cheerfully called himself, was as chipper as he was conservative, having risen from academic obscurity to prominence as a prolific contrarian who boldly challenged what he labeled "fatuous liberal orthodoxy." With the unflappable good nature of someone well pleased at the attention this had garnered, he proffered his research on topics ranging from the fallacy of affirmative action to the role of the entertainment industry as a purveyor of violence. His view of gun rights was summarized by the title of his seminal book More Guns, Less Death.

    "In my opinion," Glass told her emphatically, "the Lexington P-2 has an affirmative social utility."

    Dr. Fred, Sarah thought, was a bit too pleased with himself. "And what might that be?"

    "It's small enough to be potentially concealable, at least in someone's briefcase. The laws licensing civilians to carry concealed weapons make all of us a whole lot safer."

    Contemplating the witness, Sarah was aware of the quiet in Nolan's conference room, the attentiveness on the faces of Nolan and Harry Fancher. "Are you implying, Dr. Glass, that Inez Costello should have been carrying a Lexington P-2? Or that Joan Bowden should have had one in her handbag?"

    The expression on Glass's round, cherubic face was unfazed, almost beatific. "That would have been up to them. But, in California, the right to carry concealed weapons is severely restricted. If they weren't, Bowden might have believed that someone—if not his intended victims—would take out a gun and shoot him. In which case, the First Lady's family might well be alive."

    Sarah raised her eyebrows. "Because Bowden would have been afraid to fire a weapon? Or because some armed civilian might have drilled him once he did?"

    "Either," Glass answered with a shrug. "Or both. Doesn't matter to me—any more, I imagine, than it would have mattered to the victims. If you'll permit me, Ms. Dash, you're caught up in the syndrome of blaming guns for crime." He paused, his manner combining patience with a certain evangelical fervor. "The real blame falls on the entertainment industry—many of whom, ironically enough, are President Kilcannon's principal supporters.

    "Until children are six or seven, when they start to distinguish fantasy from reality, TV is very real, and killing is a normal and essential skill in a brutal and frightening world. That's why the Journal of American Medicine concluded that the introduction of television in the 1950s caused a doubling in the homicide rate when those children reached adulthood, and that long-term childhood exposure to TV is a causal factor behind roughly half the homicides committed in America . . ."

    "Most of them with guns," Sarah interjected. "Isn't it true that the same rise in homicide rates coincided with a steep increase in handgun ownership?"