Balance of Power

    The President smiled. "Of course. That way you don't run the risk of trying, but failing, to immunize Lexington—after which it's exposed at trial as a bloodsucker effectively run by the SSA, your bankers. So what's the rest?"

    Fasano seemed unfazed. "The rest is equally simple. I promise you a straight up-and-down vote on your gun bill—no amendments, no tricks, no filibuster. If you can get your fifty votes, you pass it. If not, you get to run on it."

    That Fasano's air was so matter-of-fact, Kerry thought, made the context of his offer almost breathtaking. Behind Sarah's back, Dane had used Lenihan to ask Mary Costello to sell out both her sister and Kerry's political interests. Now, to Kerry's face, albeit through Fasano, Dane was asking the President to sell out Mary, Lenihan, Sarah—and Kerry's own wife. The only rein on Kerry's anger was his fascination with Fasano himself; if Fasano knew of Dane's offer to Mary Costello, his selfpossession was truly superhuman.

    Another thought gave Kerry pause. On the level of cold-blooded abstraction—of sheer calculation—the offer had its merits: the swap of a veto he might lose for a clean shot at passing a bill which would certainly save lives. And, if Kerry failed, the chance to use it in the open against Fasano and the SSA.

    For a moment the President could say nothing. Clayton had been right from the beginning—Kerry was now caught in a web of his own design, the personal and political so hopelessly intertwined that he could never disentangle them, or even parse his own motives. And for that moment, he envied Senator Fasano his detachment.

    But, in the end, there was only one answer.

    "No," he told Fasano.

* * *

    Lara gripped the telephone. "Mary," she said quietly, "if we take the money on those terms, our settlement will seem like an apology. Or worse."

    "Worse?"

    "A sellout. In either case, the votes to uphold Kerry's veto will begin to melt away."

    Speaking from her efficiency apartment in San Francisco, Mary sounded wan. "Did I hear you say 'we,' Lara?"

    At once, Lara realized her blunder. "I'm sorry," she said. "I was thinking of our family."

    "That's good," Mary answered. "Because it's different for me than you. It seems like from the moment I was born you were already this great success."

    The myths of families, Lara thought sadly. "I was in second grade, Mary—a seven-year-old who was scared to death of our own father. Now I'm a woman who, like you, has lost the rest of her family but for a sister."

    "A woman," Mary repeated in a tone Lara heard as both stubborn and defensive, "who's also married to the President and made millions with NBC. Coming from you, 'we' sounds false."

    Stop,

Lara thought. "Do you think the SSA's eight million dollars," she shot back, "will make you a 'success'? It's like selling our own mother to these people." Abruptly, Lara heard herself. "I apologize, Mary—really. Like you, I'm frayed. I understand that I've been lucky, that our lives are nothing alike. But this offer's just appalling."

    On the other end, Mary was silent, perhaps stunned by the harshness of their conflict. "Lara," she said in a trembling voice, "I'm not selling our mother—or Joanie and Marie. If I were, I wouldn't have called Sarah. That's as good as calling you."

    Not only was that true, Lara saw, but Mary's thrust was a fresh reminder of her intrusion into Mary's suit. "I apologize," Lara said in a mollifying tone. "I understand the difference between having money or not . . ."

    "Well, I don't understand the difference, Lara. I've never had the chance."

    Once again, Lara heard the justice in her sister's words, felt the yawning gulf in their perceptions. With an anxiety close to desperation, she promised, "I can help you, Mary. If it still matters, I can even help get you a contract for that book on our family you mentioned. Whatever I can do."

    "What if I take this settlement?"

    Lara paused to speak deliberately. "It would be hard to imagine a book, Mary, with that as its ending."

    Her sister began to cry.

* * *

    As soon as Clayton entered the office, Kerry knew from his friend's expression that he was troubled.

    "What's up, pal?" the President inquired. "It's been a long day."

    "Slezak wants a meeting."

    "And here I thought there were no surprises left. He must have heard about Jeannie Griswold."

    "He already knew you'd do that," Clayton demurred, and sat wearily in front of Kerry's desk. "He says it's a private matter—'extremely sensitive'—which can't wait another day. And that no one should know he's coming."

    Abruptly, Kerry felt the pulse of Clayton's instinct, the first glimmer that Slezak's insolence made a certain awful sense. With a fair show of calm, he answered, "Doesn't sound like an apology, does it? You'd better tell him to come tonight."

THREE

With deep foreboding, Kerry received Jack Slezak in the President's private office.