Listening, Sarah wondered if the President had known of the disclosure of Conn's documents. Then she realized that Bond was addressing her in biting tones. "What do you know about this, Ms. Dash?"
"Nothing," Sarah said, and was very glad that this was so. "As the Court knows, I disagree with this particular order. But it's not my right to flout it—even when I think that might serve a valid public purpose."
The last remark was, perhaps, more than she should have said. But it served as a reminder that some of Lexington's problems were now in the public domain, and that an ambitious judge like Bond must be wary of the appearance—however accurate—that he was seeking to protect it. The judge paused, seemingly more reflective, before Nolan said, "Your Honor, I request the right to depose plaintiff 's counsel in order to determine who may have leaked these documents to CNN."
"What about 'nothing,' " Sarah demanded of Nolan, "escapes you? Or were you not listening when I answered Judge Bond's question?"
"Enough," Bond cut in, gazing at Lenihan with severity. "Mr. Lenihan?"
Lenihan spread his palms. "Your Honor, my answer is Ms. Dash's answer. Nothing."
It was not—heard literally—a denial, and Bond was too observant not to know that. For a long moment he stared at Robert Lenihan with obvious distrust. "That aside," he said in caustic tones, "you seem to have grasped an unfortunate fact: that the documents voluntarily provided you by Mr. Conn fall outside the letter—if not the spirit—of this Court's order." Pausing, the judge expanded his gaze to take in Sarah. "At this time, and for the moment, I'll deny Mr. Nolan the chance to depose opposing counsel. But if anyone, ever, leaks information which is clearly subject to my order, I'll conduct the inquiry myself. And if the person responsible turns out to be any one of you, I'll bring you before the State Bar of California, and ask for your disbarment. You're now on notice."
In the silence, Nolan nodded grimly. To Sarah, the judge's threat— which he plainly meant—went to any lawyer's deepest fear: to be denied the right to practice his or her profession, and to carry that stain for life. Part of her cursed Lenihan's audacity.
"All right," the judge continued acidly, "let's take up the nominal subject of this proceeding—the deposition of Mr. Callister. Which of plaintiff's counsel cares to enlighten me on why this is such a pressing need?"
In the judge's current mood, Sarah thought, she wished this task had fallen to Lenihan. But that might have made the situation worse—as matters stood, the outcome looked unpromising enough. "For a host of reasons," Sarah answered. "To begin, there's the question of what Callister knew—whether from Reiner or someone else. Did he know that Reiner had undertaken to destroy key documents? Did he know that Lexington was flooding adjacent states with the P-2? Did he know that white supremacists were using gun shows to traffic a cache of stolen guns, which included the gun later sold to Mr. Bowden . . ."
"According to Mr. Reiner," Nolan interjected, "Mr. Callister knew none of that . . ."
"Counsel," Bond admonished Nolan, "wait your turn. This Court's not through with plaintiff's counsel yet."
Though glad to see Nolan stifled, Sarah did not care for the sound of this. "For Mr. Nolan to ask this Court to accept the credibility of a witness as slippery as Reiner, while dismissing that of plaintiff's counsel, turns logic on its head.
"Finally there is the question of a conspiracy between Lexington and the SSA . . ."
Bond eyed her with skepticism. "What evidence do you have that such a conspiracy existed?"
"That's the problem, Your Honor. Without Mr. Callister, we'll never know."
Bond's brow knit. "The problem, Ms. Dash, is that your argument literally makes something out of nothing: your total absence of proof. Mr. Nolan?"
"Your Honor is precisely right," Nolan answered with an air of confidence. "Under persistent questioning by Ms. Dash, Charles Dane—Mr. Callister's counterpart at the SSA—vehemently denied the existence of any such conspiracy. If plaintiff's counsel have such damning facts, let them try their case. With no proof to warrant it, why take up the time of someone as busy as Mr. Callister? Who, in any case, is on an extensive trip to Europe on business vital to the company."
This, too, was a surprise, confirming for Sarah how averse Nolan was to any questioning of Callister. Then it struck Sarah that fear of Callister's testimony might not be Nolan's principal motive: by interposing yet another delay, he created the possibility that the Senate might pass an immunity bill, and then override the President's veto, before more damning facts could surface—or, even more critical from Nolan's perspective, before the public trial of Mary's case began.
"In the annals of delaying tactics," Sarah responded crisply, "this is one of the more arrogant. Mr. Callister is too 'busy' to participate in discovery? What of the President or the First Lady, both of whom Mr. Nolan deposed? What of the three murdered family members who are the subject of this action? Is Mr. Callister's time more precious than all of that? This tactic is absurd, and the Court should put an end to it."
"Mr. Callister," Nolan responded with composure, "should not be asked to interrupt his travels. Let plaintiffs finish up their discovery, and then come back to the Court if they still insist on deposing him."
"How long," Bond inquired, "might those travels take?"
Nolan shrugged. "Roughly three more weeks. Give or take a day."
Whatever Nolan's other purposes, Sarah grasped that this would delay the case well beyond the ten-day deadline for a Presidential veto, and perhaps, the time Fasano needed to override it. "Three weeks," she protested, "is entirely unreasonable. Mr. Callister's supposed activities, whatever they are, don't rise to the importance of President Kilcannon's. Who managed to make time on the first date Mr. Nolan asked for. This Court can order Callister to do the same."
"Indeed." With a thin smile, the judge turned to Nolan. "Were this an action in state court, Mr. Nolan, an out-of-state witness like Mr. Callister might be able to seek protection in the courts of his home state of Connecticut. But we're in federal court. At your insistence, I distinctly recall.
"So it seems you're at my mercy. You've got two weeks from today to produce Mr. Callister for deposition."
Surprised, Sarah felt a split second of elation at her unexpected victory, and then, seeing the glance pass between Nolan and Harrison Fancher, realized that two weeks might be sufficient time to satisfy their purposes. "Your Honor," she said respectfully, "might I request that your deadline be shortened to a week?"
"You can. And the answer's no." Bond seemed prepared to leave it there, and then to think better of it. "I'm not willing to put a businessman traveling in Europe on quite so short a tether."
Bond, Sarah suspected, might also believe that a two-week delay was enough for Frank Fasano, yet one which made Bond's own sympathies less obvious—particularly as compared to barring Callister's deposition altogether. But there was nothing she could do. "I have a final request, Your Honor. That, as Mr. Nolan did for the President's deposition, plaintiff's counsel be allowed to videotape our deposition of Mr. Callister."
Swiftly, Nolan turned to Bond. "That's wholly unnecessary."
Bond gave him an inquiring look. "Isn't, as Ms. Dash suggested, the president of Lexington no more privileged than the President of the United States?"
"President Kilcannon didn't object," Nolan answered. "We do."
"On what grounds?"
"That his sworn testimony in transcribed form is more than sufficient for plaintiff 's purposes."
"Not true," Sarah asserted. "Mr. Nolan's obvious purpose in videotaping President Kilcannon was the hope of creating an embarrassing video moment, or some dramatic piece of tape which showed the President dissembling. That it never happened doesn't detract from the prospect that, in the case of Mr. Callister, it might.
"Mr. Nolan's aversion to a deposition of the only person at Lexington who dealt with Kerry Kilcannon makes me wonder what Lexington has to hide. To videotape both principals seems only fair."
&n
bsp; Bond steepled his hands in front of him, the edge of his forefingers touching his lips. Sarah sensed that he was reluctant to concur but, weighing the public perception, felt stuck. "Very well," he said at last. "You may videotape Mr. Callister."
"Your Honor," Nolan said through tightened lips, "given today's leak of documents, and the importance plaintiff's counsel assign to this additional discovery—as well as their insistence on videotaping Mr. Callister—it may be necessary to remind them of their obligations under this Court's order."
Reminded of his own displeasure, Bond faced Lenihan and Sarah. "Need I remind you?" he inquired softly.
If Bond's purpose was to frighten her, Sarah thought, he had succeeded yet again. "No, Your Honor," she said promptly. As did Lenihan, a second later.
TWENTY-EIGHT
In theory, the vote on gun immunity should have been conducted by roll call of senators stationed at their desks, declaring their votes in alphabetical order. But this vote was deemed too dicey, especially for the holdouts—Coletti, Slezak, and Rollins—each of whom wanted the others to make the first move. And so the vote was accomplished through a far less formal procedure. When the clerk conducted the initial roll call, most senators would not respond. Then, for a fifteenminute period, while the senators milled about the floor in a disorderly scrum, each senator could cast his or her vote at the desk of the Senate clerk. The clerk would then repeat the vote, allowing those who kept a tally to know where the voting stood.
But for the stakes, this process would have held a certain edgy comedy: Rollins, Slezak and Coletti each eyeing the other as their colleagues eyed them, all waiting for one of the three to approach the clerk. A single vote would give Fasano the fifty-one he needed. If any of the three voted in favor of gun immunity, it freed the others to avoid casting the deciding vote, instead acting as their political interests dictated. As Cassie waited at the rear of the chamber, one senator after another ventured forward.
"Fourteen minutes to go," Chad murmured in her ear. "Do me a favor, and hold out. I just bet Hampton a steak dinner at the Palm that Coletti cracks first."
"Who did Chuck get?"
"The field. You and Slezak." Chad lowered his voice. "So here's the deal, Cassie. Hold out until Vic votes, and I'll come to Maine and campaign for you. Whether in the primary, or in the general."
She studied him, surprised. Chad was no longer smiling. He knew how difficult this was for her: out of friendship and generosity, and despite his support of Fasano, Chad was telling her to vote as she liked, even if it meant helping her buck the SSA in a primary fight.
She touched his sleeve. "Thank you, Chad."
He shook his head in demurral, as though his offer was nothing of note. "Life's too short," he told her. "And this is way too serious."
* * *
In the Oval Office, Kerry watched on CNN. Superimposed on its image of the milling senators was a vote tally—eleven to ten in favor of gun immunity—and a second-by-second count of the remaining time: 12:43. When Clayton entered, the President asked, "Does Hampton have the transcript?"
"His Chief of Staff does. It's only a matter of minutes."
Peering at the screen, Kerry tried to pick out Vic Coletti.
* * *
On the floor of the Senate, Palmer and Cassie Rollins watched the minority leader take Vic Coletti by the elbow, gently but firmly pulling him aside, and hand him what appeared to be a one-page document.
"What's that about?" Cassie wondered aloud.
Chad, too, felt curious. "Can it be?" he murmured. "The White House finally found that compromising photograph of Vic with a sheep?"
"A sheep," Cassie inquired dryly. "Only one?"
"Yeah. But he was underage."
Whatever it was, the document had Coletti's close attention.
* * *
"You've been worried about Lexington," Hampton told Vic Coletti. "This is a transcript from Wolf Blitzer's newscast. CNN's got documents which Lexington concealed in the Costello lawsuit, showing that Lexington knew that the P-2 was being widely used by criminals in California. They also include the ballistics tests on the Eagle's Claw."
Coletti finished reading, then looked slowly up at Hampton. "Not pretty," he said in grudging tones. "But it doesn't say they knew the P-2 was being sold by white supremacists."
At the corner of his vision, Hampton noticed Jack Slezak observing them. "Or by Adolf Hitler," Hampton answered tersely. "You told the President you needed cover. Obstruction of justice should be cover enough. Do you really want to reward that with immunity?"
Coletti mustered a flinty smile which tightened the corner of his eyes. "The President doesn't mean to lose, does he."
"Surprise," Hampton said with a laugh as soft as it was brief. Then he put one hand on Coletti's shoulder. "The President would appreciate your help, Vic. So would I."
To both sides, senators kept stepping forward toward the clerk. With a curt nod, Coletti folded the paper and tucked it into the inside pocket of his suit coat. "Does Slezak know?" he asked.
Hampton smiled. "He will."
* * *
With four minutes left, Cassie saw Vic Coletti approach the clerk of the Senate with all the animation of a death row prisoner taking his final walk.
"Congratulations," Cassie said to Chad. "Looks like Hampton's buying."
Chad shrugged. "Just another scene from Profiles in Courage. I think I'll wander down there for you, find out how Vic voted."
This was another kindness, sparing Cassie the discomfort of looking. "Please don't wander," she said. "Sprint."
* * *
But Fasano found her before Chad returned. "Coletti?" she asked.
"Kilcannon flipped him. Time to choose, Cassie."
Senator Rollins inhaled. "It will be—in about three minutes. Where's Slezak?"
Fasano's eyes bored into her. "No clue. Whoever he's promised his vote to, it isn't me." His voice reverted to its cool, clipped tenor. "Slezak's not on my team. You are. Don't embarrass me any further."
Around them the edgy buzz of conversation rose, both the senators and the gallery anticipating the end game. "Then don't embarrass me," she said softly. "There are people watching."
"No need," Fasano answered. "I've said all I should ever need to say." Abruptly turning, he walked away.
* * *
On the screen the count stood at forty-eight to forty-eight, with one certain vote for each side yet to come. The clock read 2:14.
"Come on, Cassie," the President murmured. Something kept him from speaking Slezak's name.
* * *
"That looked chummy," Chad said on his return. His voice was conversational, as if reporting something of mild interest. "You and Slezak still have a couple of minutes. Care to know what turned Coletti?"
Contemplating yet again the potential consequences of defying the Majority Leader, Cassie remained shaken. "Sure."
With a smile, Chad told her.
After a moment, Cassie shook her head. "You know, I really despise these people."
"Lexington?"
"The SSA."
Chad gave a querying look. "And so?"
Somewhat belatedly, it struck Cassie that, all kindnesses aside, Chad would not mind at all if Fasano lost. "Tell me something," she replied. "What inspired you to sign on as Frank's point man?"
Chad glanced about them. "We cut a deal," he told her in an undertone. "This thing for a straight up-and-down vote on campaign finance reform."
After a moment, Cassie nodded. "I thought it must be something better than what Frank offered me—an end to my career. Or the President."
"What did Kerry offer you?"
"A chance to do the right thing. I just hate it when that happens."
Chad, she saw, was looking over her shoulder. "Slezak isn't moving," he reported. "You've got about a minute."
Cassie glanced at her watch. "Fuck it, Chad. This is becoming way too undignified."
With that, she walked briskly toward the clerk.<
br />
* * *
"There goes Cassie," Clayton said.
At the corner of the screen, the countdown showed 1:14. As Cassie spoke to the clerk, Kerry heard the door to the Oval Office ease open, and turned to see Lara slipping through. Softly, she told her husband, "I couldn't stand watching up there alone."
Balance of Power Page 60
