Balance of Power

by Richard North Patterson

  Sarah turned to the witness. "Do you think you can separate 'legislative and political discussions' from whatever else you and Dane talked about?"

  "I believe I can, yes."

  Nolan grasped Callister's wrist. "As counsel for Lexington Arms," he said in a peremptory tone, "I am directing you not to answer Ms. Dash's questions, or to attempt to distinguish what is confidential from what is not."

  Callister stared at Nolan's hand. "You've given me your advice, John. I get to decide whether or not to take it."

  Removing his hand, Nolan turned to Sarah. "I request a break to consult with my client."

  Sarah forced herself to remain low key. "Mr. Callister?"

  "You can take a break," Callister told Nolan. "I'm fine."

  In a tone of alarm, Fancher interjected, "I protest the continuation of the deposition without time to discuss with Mr. Callister the implications of your questions for the First Amendment rights of Lexington and the SSA."

  Shrugging, Callister turned to Sarah. "Go ahead, Ms. Dash."

  Ignoring Fancher, Sarah asked, "During that meeting, Mr. Callister, what did Mr. Dane say to you?"

  "Several things," Callister answered in a calm, incisive voice. "That anyone who dealt with President Kilcannon was selling out the Second Amendment. That if Lexington made this deal he would use the SSA's newsletter, the Internet, and grassroots organizations to urge every American gun owner to boycott all our products and every gun dealer to bar us from their stores. That the SSA magazine would refuse to run our advertisements, and that other gun publications would follow suit.

  "With respect to private lawsuits like this one," Callister went on, "our defense is financed by the Heritage Fund, which is principally funded, and therefore controlled, by the SSA itself. Dane warned me they wouldn't fund the defense for any company who cut a deal with Kilcannon." Turning to Fancher, Callister said evenly, "At the end of his summary, Mr. Fancher, your client promised me that settling with the President would lead to the destruction of Lexington Arms. I didn't take that to be a 'First Amendment discussion of political and legislative strategy.' "

  Sarah felt as stunned as John Nolan and Fancher. Callister's tone suggested a man who was finally and inexorably fed up; that his last response delivered the SSA to the edge of an antitrust violation seemed to concern him not at all. "In connection with his threats against Lexington," Sarah managed to inquire, "did Mr. Dane mention your fellow manufacturers?"

  Callister turned back to her. "He asked if I remembered Martin Bresler. Then he wondered aloud if I didn't think the others would be happy to carve up the market share of someone who'd just sold them out." Briefly, Callister's voice betrayed his bitterness. "But just to be sure I didn't strike a deal, someone leaked the negotiations to the Washington Post.

  "All of a sudden, there were demonstrators in front of our company, and I was getting death threats on the Internet." Pausing, Callister finished quietly, "The day before the President's wedding, the board ordered me to pull the plug."

  Sitting back, Sarah surveyed the scene in front of her: Callister, now dissociated from the lawyers, Fancher scribbling notes with the fury of a slasher, Nolan, straining to cope with a loss of control which, in his experience, surely was unprecedented. "George," Nolan said in a strained voice, "your testimony has implications far beyond the concerns of the SSA. You have obligations to your company."

  Callister turned to him with a look of mild disdain. "Yes," he said simply, "I do."

  "After the Costello murders," Sarah cut in, "did you take any further action?"

  "George," Nolan repeated, "I'm imploring you to take a break."

  Callister turned from him. "I went to the board," he told Sarah, "and said enough was enough. The shooter had used a P-2, and the eleventh Eagle's Claw bullet in a forty-round magazine had killed that little girl I'd met at Camp David. It was past time for reaching an arrangement with the President, if that was even possible with all that had happened." Callister's tone grew soft. "I knew Kilcannon would do everything in his power to destroy Lexington Arms unless we gave him what he needed, and that was what I told them."

  His quiet statement, with its implicit reference to the lawsuit, reminded Sarah of her first call from Lara Kilcannon. It seemed a long time ago. And for most of that time, she had assumed that George Callister was as callous as Charles Dane. Softly, she said, "Why couldn't Lexington reach agreement with the President, Mr. Callister?"

  "Lord knows I tried. In fact I told the board I'd resign unless they authorized me to discontinue the P-2 and Eagle's Claw." Callister gazed at the table, as though drawn into memory. "I guaranteed them there'd be more lawsuits coming—if not from the First Lady or her sister, then from the other families, and that the victims had too much public sympathy for us to risk a trial. But before the board could hold a vote, Dane called to ask for a second meeting . . ."

  "Mr. Callister," Nolan said formally, "I'm forced to admonish you to consider the legal implications of your actions here today. By ignoring my instructions, you're acting in conflict with the interests of your company."

  Callister shrugged. "Someone is. Maybe you should hear the rest before you decide it's me."

  Tense, Sarah sensed that what was to follow would dwarf all that had come before. "At the second meeting," she asked swiftly, "what did Dane have to say?"

  "That the SSA's objective was to get rid of Kerry Kilcannon. Rather than make a pact with the devil, I should just get out of the way and let them work with the Republicans on a tort reform bill which would get us off the hook."

  Sarah heard Lenihan laugh softly. "That conversation," Fancher protested, "is the epitome of political and legislative strategy . . ."

  "Did you respond to Dane's suggestion?" Sarah broke in.

  "Yes. I said that Congress had never passed a gun immunity bill and sure as hell couldn't now. And that Kilcannon would veto it if they did."

  "How did Dane react?"

  Briefly Callister glanced at Fancher. "He said that the SSA would commit whatever resources were needed to pass tort reform in both houses of Congress. Then he told me something that I couldn't understand: that Kilcannon could be handled if he got in the way."

  The last words of his answer hit Sarah hard. At once, she was intensely aware of the video cam focused on George Callister. "Did Mr. Dane tell you what he meant by that?"

  "Not at first." Callister's voice was gentle, his eyes bleak. "I told him he was crazy to think that Kilcannon could be 'handled' after what had happened to his wife's family."

  "How did he respond?"

  "That I didn't need to worry, because they had personal information which concerned both the President and the First Lady."

  The room, and everyone in it, was completely still. In the silence Sarah noticed the soft whir of the video cam. "Did you ask him to elaborate?"

  "Yes. All that Dane said was that they could never survive it, and they'd be foolish to try."

  Fancher had stopped taking notes. Absently, Nolan scratched the bridge of his nose. Quietly, Sarah asked, "Do you now know what Dane meant by that?"

  Callister nodded. "The morning the abortion story broke I called Dane, demanding to know if this was what he'd meant. He just laughed, and asked me why it mattered when the President had just become a eunuch." At last, the witness turned to Nolan. "You're the lawyer, John, not me. But I always thought that blackmail was a crime."

  When Nolan did not answer, Callister told him, "Maybe the board will get rid of me for this. But right now your choice is to represent this company and not the SSA. Or I'll fire you along with Reiner."

  * * *

  When the deposition was over, Callister said to Nolan, "I'd like a word in private with Ms. Dash." It was not a request.

  They stepped out in the hallway. Callister stood over her, the briefest glint of humor appearing in his level grey eyes. "If you happen to speak to the President," he requested, "tell him that the Prime Minister worked his magic. And that now we're as squa
re as I can make us. From here on out, both of you are on your own."

  TWELVE

  Sarah and Mary sat at opposite ends of Sarah's couch, a cold winter rain splattering against the windows of her living room. Mary listened closely as Sarah struggled to convey the quality of what she had experienced.

  "You know by now what it's supposed to be like," Sarah told her. "Depositions aren't a human process. The lawyers object, and the witness gives the answer he's supposed to give. But not Callister.

  "At some point he began to expose the whole charade for what it was. Suddenly I wasn't just a lawyer, and Callister was more than a witness. Nolan has never looked so small." Pausing, she tried to translate her sense of Callister's reactions. "Callister had been taking in the entire rancid joke—Bond doing his Wizard of Oz routine through his little twerp of a law clerk, knowing full well that the defense lawyers were screwing us over; Nolan and Fancher working together to conceal the SSA's legal problems until the Senate votes. Given what he knew, Callister couldn't stand playing the role of the good German."

  Mary herself looked dazed. "Do you think the defense lawyers knew about the blackmail?"

  "Maybe not about Callister's final call to Dane. Maybe. But Nolan's too good a lawyer not to have interviewed Callister about everything that happened before the lawsuit, pretty soon after we filed it. So the appearance of the abortion story had to raise for Nolan the same questions about blackmail that Callister asked Dane." Contemplative, Sarah sipped from her glass of chardonnay. "If you wanted to be charitable, you'd argue that Nolan decided that his client's best interests lay in sticking with the SSA. After all, the day after tomorrow the Senate's due to bury this case for good."

  "So why didn't Callister just keep quiet?"

  "Callister's smart—he didn't just do this out of conscience. My guess is that he thinks our lawsuit actually serves Lexington's interests."

  "How?"

  "Because it may be the only way to break the SSA's control over the American gun industry. With what Callister told us, the SSA would become the principal defendant, and Lexington could cross-claim against the SSA for any damages you recover from Lexington." Sarah thought more swiftly now. "Suppose Callister offered to settle with you for a small chunk of cash, Lexington's agreement to the terms the President proposed, and the company's cooperation in prosecuting your case against the SSA at trial. The SSA's power to bully gun manufacturers could effectively be over."

  Mary shook her head in awe. "Blackmailing the President of the United States. Imagine what might happen if that got out."

  "Imagine," Sarah said, and felt again how shaken she was. "It reminds me of that classic conundrum, 'if a tree falls in the woods, and no one hears it, does it make a sound?' What Callister said is a tree in the woods. Outside of the people in that conference room, no one heard a sound."

  "Because of the judge's order."

  Reluctantly, Sarah nodded. "Callister stuck this in my pocket, and now I know what's happening. But all Callister did was cross his lawyers. I'd be violating a court order. I haven't seen Callister showing up on Meet the Press."

  "He didn't just cross his lawyers, Sarah. He crossed the SSA, and put his company on the line." Pensive, Mary paused. "What does Bob Lenihan say?"

  Sarah rubbed her temple with the fingers of one hand. "A couple of weeks ago, he used a loophole in the order to leak some records to the Times. Bond can't prove it, but he knows it. Whoever flouts the order now is in Bond's crosshairs, and Lenihan doesn't want it to be him."

  Mary studied her. "You've already asked him if he'd leak it, haven't you."

  "More or less," Sarah admitted wearily. "He said that maybe after the Senate kills your suit we can petition Bond to open the files. That's as far as Lenihan's willing to go."

  Mary's face softened with compassion. "What about your law license, Sarah? It doesn't seem fair that this has to fall on you."

  "There's no one else, and no escape." Sarah gazed into her wineglass. "I keep wondering how we got here. I wanted to hold Lexington or the gun lobby responsible for their actions, and help the President change the way this country treats gun violence. But the President and your sister live in a parallel universe, as you well know, and there's nothing they can do for me."

  Mary considered her. "Then that leaves me, doesn't it?"

  "How do you mean?"

  Mary smiled faintly. "Because I'm your client, Sarah. Whatever we do, and how we do it, is for me to decide."

  * * *

  The next morning, at a little before eleven o'clock, Sarah Dash and Mary Costello entered the principal meeting room of the Mark Hopkins Hotel. Set up behind the podium was a table supporting a cardboard box, a television, and a VCR. Gathered in front of it were reporters from newspapers, networks, and local TV stations—intrigued, in light of Judge Bond's blackout, by Sarah's hasty summons to a press conference regarding a "critical development" in Costello versus Lexington Arms.

  Nodding to Mary, Sarah approached the podium, Mary beside her. Sarah had not slept. Laying her notes on the podium, she felt the slightest tremor of her hands.

  She paused, drawing one deep breath. CNN was carrying the press conference live, and she could not be any less than poised.

  "I'm Sarah Dash," she began, "one of the counsel for Mary Costello in her wrongful death action against Lexington Arms and the Sons of the Second Amendment. Because of the importance of the information we are about to share with you, Ms. Costello wanted to be here in person."

  For a final instant, Sarah hesitated on the brink of defiance. "Yesterday," she continued, "I deposed George Callister, the CEO of Lexington Arms. In the box behind me are copies of the videotape of that deposition, which we will make available at the conclusion of this press conference. In the meanwhile, I have prepared taped excerpts of Mr. Callister's testimony, which I will play in a few moments."

  Attentive, the reporters began stirring with surprise and anticipation—those who had followed the case knew at once that Sarah was violating a court order. She saw a reporter from Fox start speaking rapidly into his cell phone. "As you know," Sarah went on, "Judge Bond has ordered us not to disclose evidence revealed in discovery. We do not do so lightly . . ."

  * * *

  Summoned to the SSA's conference room by a hasty call from Carla Fell, Charles Dane found her watching CNN.

  "What is it?" he demanded sharply.

  "Sarah Dash. She just told the judge to go fuck himself."

  Filled with foreboding, Dane mentally replayed the phone call from Harrison Fancher, the sleepless night which followed—spent alone because Dane could confess his involvement to no one—spinning calculations about how to keep the lid on Callister. The best plan he could construct was to make sure Fasano shut down the lawsuit in the Senate, do everything possible to keep the files under seal and, should they surface nonetheless, to claim that Callister was lying—or, at least, had badly misconstrued their conversation.

  "What's she saying?" Dane asked Fell.

  "We don't know yet."

  On the screen, Sarah Dash appeared composed. One of the principal claims in Ms. Costello's lawsuit is that the SSA controls the American gun industry. Yesterday, we learned how true that was. But we learned far more than that.

  Turning, Sarah walked to the television, and punched a button on the VCR. In close-up, George Callister's image filled the screen.

  How did Dane react? Sarah's voice inquired.

  He said that the SSA would commit whatever resources were needed to pass tort reform in both houses of Congress. Then he told me something that I didn't understand: that Kilcannon could be handled if he got in the way.

  Heavily, Dane sat down. At the corner of his vision, he saw that Carla Fell was watching him. Her eyes seemed to ask the question Sarah's voice was putting into words.

  Did Mr. Dane tell you what he meant by that?

  THIRTEEN

  On returning to her office, Sarah was assaulted by phone calls from the print media; intervie
w requests from CNN, Fox, MSNBC, and the evening news and early-morning shows for the three major networks; angry messages from supporters of the SSA; calls of encouragement from friends, including several she had not heard from in years; and—unbelievable to Sarah—a film producer who had rescripted her defiance of Judge Bond as a vehicle for Sandra Bullock. " 'Sarah Brockovich'?" Sarah mused aloud, and told her assistant to keep stemming the deluge. Sarah had done all the talking to the media she intended to or, clearly, needed to. The cable news stations were awash in images of Sarah and Callister; speculation regarding the impact of Callister's revelations on the gun debate, the SSA, the Congress and both political parties; instant polls asking whether the videotape had affected the Kilcannons' standing with the public. Sarah felt tired, worried, and altogether overwhelmed. To have generated such a firestorm by defying the legal system, rather than working within it, deepened her anxiety. She could only guess at how George Callister must feel.