Balance of Power

    Quietly, Kerry gazed at the white dome of the Capitol, glowing in the distance. "Since 1938," he told her, "every serious gun safety proposal has enjoyed overwhelming public support. But Congress weakened or rejected them all. In 1968, when Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy were shot, they couldn't even manage to ban bullets like the ones which killed Marie.

    "For the SSA, this is Armageddon. They can't lose, especially not to me, or else the balance shifts. Once they're no longer invincible, they're a PR problem for the GOP and a lot less scary to Democrats. So they'll do anything to win, and they've put so much sweat and money into the Republicans that the Speaker and Fasano have no choice but to go along. As for Callister, they've got him by the balls."

    "But a lawsuit could be your leverage."

    "Mary's lawsuit," Kerry answered succinctly, "could destroy Lexington Arms. And that not even a President can do."

    For a moment, Lara reflected. "And then you could break the SSA's stranglehold on the industry."

    Kerry nodded. "In a lot of states, like Georgia, the SSA's been able to get laws passed immunizing gun companies from suits by public entities. The only kind of suit they haven't been able to wipe out is wrongful death actions by victims' families." He sipped more brandy. "The California legislature would never bar your sister from suing over the deaths of two women and a child millions of people came to know, and whose murders they witnessed on television. If I were George Callister, I'd be terrified of a jury."

    As Lara listened, Kerry saw the pain of memory replaced by the cool scrutiny of the war correspondent she had once been. "Which would you prefer, Kerry? Destroying Lexington? Or forcing Callister to give you what you want?"

    Kerry shrugged. "I'm indifferent. Either would show the gun industry that the SSA can't protect them."

    Lara settled back, brandy snifter cradled in the palms of both hands. "There's just one problem," she said evenly. "This would be Mary's suit, not yours."

    "We'd need to reach an understanding . . ."

    Lara held up her hand. "Joan resented me to the end of her life. Now you want me to take over Mary's life."

    Kerry touched her arm. "Once Mary sees what I'm after . . ."

    "Just who," Lara broke in, "do you expect to make her see it? After all that's happened to us, I really can't believe you want me to do this. Have you completely forgotten how complex families are? And how little of mine is left?"

    Kerry met her gaze. "So what do you do now, Lara? Do you help me honor their memory? Or let Mary just cash in?"

    Lara fixed him with a long look of appraisal. "I thought I knew you," she said softly. "Heart and soul. What surprises marriage brings."

    Quiet, Kerry stifled the urge to reach for her. "I'm sorry," he answered. "But liberals too often whine, while conservatives do whatever it takes." He paused, then finished evenly, "With Mary's help, we can redress the balance. She should have that choice."

TW O

"Thomas Jefferson did it," Avram Gold told the President. "To Aaron Burr, his own Vice President."

    At Kerry's direction, Gold had entered through the East Gate, away from the press, and come directly to his private office. The fact of the meeting would be as private as its substance. Unlike the White House counsel, whose client was deemed to be the public at large, Avram Gold, a Harvard law professor and Kerry's unofficial advisor on legal policy, could counsel Kerry on personal legal matters covered by the attorneyclient privilege. In Kerry's mind, he could hardly do better—Gold was brilliant, imaginative and committed to Kerry's agenda. If there was a way to execute the complex stratagem Kerry had in mind, Avi Gold would find it.

    "Jefferson?" Kerry inquired. "How?"

    "After Burr shot Alexander Hamilton, Jefferson secretly directed his prosecution for treason. He torpedoed his own Vice President."

    Kerry smiled. "The good old days," he said with mock nostalgia, "when Presidents could exploit the justice system in private."

    "It's different now," Gold agreed. "Especially in this scenario. If Mary brings a lawsuit, you and the First Lady are very likely to be witnesses. Were I Lexington, I'd argue that Joan died from the effects of inadequate law enforcement and bad advice—including yours. There's no way they won't press for depositions from both of you—on videotape, if the judge allows it."

    Kerry shrugged. "I expect that. All I care about is whether we'd have to answer questions about our role in the lawsuit itself. The idea that I'm behind it would be absolutely fatal to what I have in mind."

    Gold leaned forward, hands pressed together, the keenness of his gaze confirming his pleasure in the intellectual challenge Kerry had placed before him. "Okay," he said crisply, "let's start with what you can't do.