Balance of Power

    "I'll want to deliver it myself. And get me everything you can about those soldiers. When I call, their survivors should almost feel as though I knew them. At least as much as possible." Looking up at Clayton, Kerry added quietly, "I'd be a lousy wartime President, Clayton. I hate death far too much."

    Slowly, Clayton nodded. "Speaking of which," he asked after a moment, "how was your meeting with Lenihan?"

    "Much as I expected. He congratulated me on loading the dice against Lexington in Mary's future wrongful death action. I felt like Dr. Frankenstein, sitting in the Oval Office with a monster of my own creation."

    "A large and powerful monster," Clayton amended, "who's placed millions of dollars at the disposal of the Democratic Party, and whose trade association of trial lawyers is looking for a way to maintain their influence in the brave new world of campaign finance reform. A monster to be handled with care." He smiled slightly. "But a very useful monster, in his place. As you told me just two days ago."

    " 'In his place,' " Kerry answered. "That's the key."

    Clayton considered this. "Will Mary sue?" he asked.

    "Lara thinks so, in the end. But this lawsuit is only as good for our purposes as our ability to influence the way it's run.

    "Lenihan wants glory—and, no matter what he says, money. I want to transform our public policy regarding guns. I can't count on Bob to know his place."

    Clayton sat down. "I telephoned the Kilcannon Center, as you asked. They've brought on Sarah Dash—the lawyer who represented Mary Ann Tierney in the abortion case—to handle any litigation against gun companies."

    Kerry nodded. "I can't elbow Lenihan aside—too delicate, and he brings some real weapons to a lawsuit. But perhaps we could induce Mary to engage a cocounsel. The Kilcannon Center is extremely well funded, and, other than by surname, I have no connection to them whatsoever. But they'd no doubt be more sensitive than Lenihan to what we want . . ."

    "Sensitive? Or malleable?"

    "That, too. After all, the Center was founded by my brother's key supporters as a memorial to the causes he embraced." Pausing, Kerry added mordantly, "Many of those people still see me as a memorial with a pulse—certainly not Jamie, but all the DNA that's left. They'll go along."

    Clayton reflected. "Before you ask them," he admonished, "you'd better figure out how. As well as how you intend to try to control this lawsuit."

    "Not directly." Kerry's voice softened. "That's among the many lessons of my mishandling of John Bowden. Today's meeting with Lenihan is potential evidence. If I were to become a witness in Mary's lawsuit— which I very well might be—I could be cross-examined about it. So no more meetings with her prospective lawyers. I don't want my fingerprints on this one."

    Gazing out the window, Clayton pondered this. "Lara?" he asked.

FOURTEEN

The following Monday brought a fresh outburst of violence between Israel and the PLO and, for Kerry Kilcannon, a vexing reminder of the limits of his power. He considered the leader of the PLO to be treacherous and a liar; the Israeli Prime Minister to be obdurate and obtuse; and neither of them willing to urge upon their people the steps necessary to achieve peace, or even stop killing each other into the next generation. "Tell your people the truth," he snapped by telephone at the head of the PLO. "For once. They're not going back to Israel to reclaim their parents' ancestral homes. Either get them to accept that, or they'll fester for another fifty years in these squalid refugee camps terrorists use as training grounds. If you can't do that, what's the point of you?"

    But the Israeli Prime Minister was little help. "We have to defend our settlements, Mr. President."

    "Which you never should have put there," Kerry retorted. "They're an utter provocation.

    "Let me explain something. We're morally committed to your survival as a nation. But the day is past when you can use that to define our Middle Eastern policy. You've got the next Saddam Hussein two countries over, developing nuclear and biological weapons, and we can't very easily take him out—even if we decide to—because our Arab 'friends' won't help us as long as you and the Palestinians keep slaughtering each other. I'm not waiting until his anthrax hits New York for you to get this right . . ."

    "Mr. President," the Israeli interrupted, "I can't make the concessions you want. To make the peace, I must keep my majority in Parliament . . ."

    "Tell your friends in Parliament that the first nuclear missile will land on them, not us." Kerry softened his voice. "The Holocaust is one of history's nightmares. The humanitarian debt it created is Israel's precious moral capital. It's been fascinating to watch you do your damnedest to deplete it . . ."

When this conversation had ended, the skies outside were dark, and a fresh wind drove sheets of rain against the windows. Kerry glanced at his watch. He had kept George Callister waiting for forty minutes.

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