Balance of Power

    Sarah glanced at Fancher. "Did any of them tell you that they'd been threatened by representatives of the SSA?"

    "Not directly, no."

    "Did you ask?"

    "I did not."

    Pausing, Sarah replayed the tenor of Callister's answer. "Did the SSA threaten you?"

    "Objection," Fancher snapped. "However pejorative in tone, the question impinges on the defendants' First Amendment right of political association—including the formulation of legislative and political strategy. Such confidential discussions are not subject to discovery."

    Sarah did not move her eyes from Callister. "You may answer," she told him.

    "He may not." Turning to the witness, Nolan said with quiet emphasis, "The SSA's objection is well taken, George, and the right belongs to Lexington every bit as much as it does the SSA. I'm instructing you not to answer."

    Facing Sarah, Callister said, "You heard my counsel, Ms. Dash. I'm under orders not to discuss any conversations with the SSA."

    "That's obstruction," Lenihan burst out.

    "Mr. Nolan," Sarah interjected with a controlled professionalism she found difficult to maintain, "your objection goes to the heart of our case that the SSA conspired with others to enforce uniform conduct on the American gun industry, in violation of the antitrust laws, contributing to the murders of Mary Costello's family. You've got no basis for your instruction."

    "Then take it to the judge . . ."

    "You know damn well we can't," Lenihan snapped back. "By the time we get there you'll have passed this unconscionable gun immunity bill."

    Nolan smiled. "Acts of Congress are your department, Bob, not mine. My job is to represent my client."

    "Which one? The SSA?"

    Staring at the table, Callister had seemed to turn inward—most likely, Sarah thought, out of distaste for the whole proceeding. Crisply, she told Lenihan, "Let's call the judge right now."

    At once, Sarah rose, took a speakerphone from the corner of the conference room, and placed it on the center of the table. Glancing at her notes, she stabbed out Bond's number, and asked for the law clerk assigned to Costello versus Lexington Arms.

    "We're in the middle of Mr. Callister's deposition," she explained. "A discovery dispute has arisen—an instruction to the witness not to answer questions essential to our case. We're hoping to speak with Judge Bond, describe the issues, and ask for an immediate ruling."

    "Very well." The clerk's reedy voice was pompous with borrowed authority. "I'll find out what we want to do."

    He put Sarah on hold. Silent, lawyers and witness gazed at the speakerphone as if it were a line to God. The room felt hot and close.

    After a few minutes, interminable to Sarah, the clerk returned. "If there's a problem, plaintiff's counsel should file a motion. The judge says he'll rule in the normal course."

    The answer struck Sarah in the pit of her stomach. "Thank you," she managed to say. The obligatory words had never felt more hateful.

    When the clerk hung up, Nolan was the first to speak, the softness of his voice betraying his residual tension. "Why don't we have lunch, Sarah? The witness has been going long enough."

* * *

    Eating a ham sandwich with Lenihan in her office, Sarah tried to bank her outrage. At least Nolan had given her time to think.

    "There's something here," she speculated, "that Callister doesn't like."

    Lenihan slumped in his chair, a portrait of frustration. "Yeah. Mike Reiner."

    Sarah put down the sandwich, gazing out her window at the uneven skyline south of Market Street. "There's something else, I think. I just don't know if I can get to what it is."

* * *

    Returning from lunch, Callister looked somber, all trace of humor vanished. "After your fellow CEOs cut off Martin Bresler," Sarah began, "did President Kilcannon contact you directly?"

    "Yes. We met three times at Camp David."

    "What did the President discuss with you?"

    Callister hesitated, eyes narrow with thought, as though still reluctant to divulge his private conversations with the President of the United States. "A potential agreement, brokered by the President with the thirteen cities who'd sued us, to end their litigation against Lexington Arms." His tone took on the edge of self-justification. "A single hundred-million-dollar verdict would wipe out Lexington Arms. The legal fees alone could drain us of our profits. If the President could offer a way out, I thought we should explore it."

    "What was Lexington's side of the deal?"

    "Though I couldn't admit that to the President, he was asking for a lot of what I thought we should do anyhow. Phase out the P-2 and the Eagle's Claw. Require background checks at gun shows." Briefly, Callister grimaced. "He also wanted us to retrofit our weapons to accommodate only magazines with a maximum of ten rounds."

    This tacit reference to the murder of Marie Costello prompted Nolan to glance at Callister. "Did the President propose anything else?" Sarah asked.