Balance of Power

    Gage's eyes glinted. "You're thinking maybe that now Lara Kilcannon will sue Lexington for the wrongful deaths of her mother, sister, and niece, asking for enough in compensatory and punitive damages to drive Lexington into bankruptcy. An object lesson for anyone who kowtows to the SSA, courtesy of our President." Briefly Gage licked his lips, as though, Fasano imagined, tasting his own bile. "Kilcannon likes reminding us of what a prick he is—for him, that was the beauty of what he did to me. But using his wife is too unsubtle, using a First Lady too unseemly."

    "Did Macbeth 'use' Lady Macbeth?" Fasano rejoined. "I saw them yesterday, Mac. As sorry as I was for her, it felt like visiting tempered steel. But you're right, of course—they're both too smart for that."

    Gage studied him. "And so?"

    "Go back and count sisters one more time." Pausing, Fasano spoke more quietly. "On the drive home, Bernadette asked what was troubling me. It took me a moment to remember the sister who survived."

    Gage sat back with the ruminating air of a man discovering his own subconscious thoughts. "So the other surviving sister brings a lawsuit," he said slowly, "represented by some raging greed-head of a plaintiffs' lawyer who made millions suing tobacco companies. And you figure that's occurred to the SSA."

    Fasano met his gaze. "I figure it's occurred to Kerry Kilcannon. And Charles Dane gives the President at least as much thought as I do."

    Gage smiled like a teacher whose pupil has passed a tough exam. "Tort reform," he said flatly.

    "Tort reform with a meat ax. The SSA will want us to pass a bill banning this kind of lawsuit." Fasano nodded toward his television, mutely flashing a picture of the First Lady in mourning, walking on the beach with her husband. "A tough sell at the moment. And we'd need a twothirds vote to override Kilcannon's veto."

    Turning, Gage watched the screen. "The principle's right," he answered. "It all depends on how we package it."

    "Whatever the SSA might want," Fasano responded calmly, "I told them to wait for a meeting until we see what Kilcannon does. The President's got some real problems of his own, beginning with Chuck Hampton and the Democrats. At least five or six of them don't need a fight with the SSA."

    Gage still eyed the screen. "If it's only us in Kilcannon's way, it's our problem. If it's Democrats, too, it's Kilcannon's problem. The SSA will see to that."

    For a moment, Fasano also watched Lara Kilcannon's image on television, a slim figure in blue jeans and an oversized sweater, leaning against her husband. The cynic in him wondered if, knowing the cameras watched, Lara had chosen to project her vulnerability. "Lara Kilcannon," he rejoined, "could change everything."

    Gage turned to him, as if unmoved by what he had seen. "She'll get some short-term sympathy, I agree. But people may decide they're going overboard.

    "She's from California; he's from New Jersey. The nearer you live to water, the more clueless you become. Good people with guns won't like being blamed for the actions of a wife-beater." Gage smiled grimly. "To millions of Americans, guns are a religion, like NASCAR. It's not economics which drives politics anymore—it's values. People in the heartland sense Kilcannon's not right with his God."

    "On abortion," Fasano answered coolly, "he'll never be right with God. But our mistake is to believe that he's some sort of different species—a fanatic liberal running on emotion and intuition.

    "I think he understands everything you just said, Mac, and has simply made a different calculation. Different, and huge—a cosmic gamble." Fasano's tone had lost all pretense of deference. "Kilcannon's game is nothing less than the realignment of American politics. He wants us to be the only place the SSA can go: he figures that issues like guns and abortion will drive women away in truckloads, along with moderates and suburbanites.

    "The right wing can turn enough voters out in most Republican primaries that you just can't win against them. Then Kilcannon takes the SSA in states like California and jams them down our throat—in the states he needs to win, he figures, the right is strong enough to win our primary, and offensive enough to lose us the general election. That's his biggest reason for pursuing this."

    Gage's expression was keen with interest. "Which makes him not only a prick, but a cold-blooded prick."

    Fasano shrugged. "Have any quarrel with that?"

    "None. Except that Kilcannon's wrong." Gage folded his hands in front of him. "Less than half the people in this country vote. We don't need a majority to win. We need a fully committed minority, one which votes the issues they care about first, last, and always. Our message on guns is simple: the Second Amendment is absolute; the government shouldn't interfere with gun rights; and existing laws are all we need. Ask yourself this: do folks want to ban stock car racing because Dale Earnhardt cracked up his car?"