Coletti folded his arms. "I gave you my vote against gun immunity, and you lost in spite of that. There are significant interests in my state absolutely wedded to this bill."
"Vic," Hampton said with ominous quiet, "I don't give a shit about the fucking insurance companies in Hartford. The SSA set out to destroy this President. He's got an extremely long memory, and so do I."
Absently, Coletti rubbed his beak of a nose, eyes focused on Hampton. "You're beginning to remind me of him, Chuck. That's not how you became the leader."
"Maybe not. But I intend to become Majority Leader, and for that I need a President strong enough to help carry us to victory." Hampton smiled. "Maybe then your parochial concerns will cut more ice with me. But in the meanwhile, you might want to check in with Tony Calvo. Something tells me that Tony and his friends might give you a little more slack than I will."
* * *
Shortly before noon, Senator Hampton went to see the Majority Leader.
With a calm and amiable demeanor, Fasano waved his rival to a chair. "What can I do for you, Chuck?"
"Get out of the way."
Surprise delayed Fasano's smile by fractions of a second. "Just like that?"
Leaning forward, Hampton spoke with more conviction than he felt. "There's a backlash building. What the SSA had going for it was fear. And the residue of fear, when it subsides, is hatred.
"You miscalculated, Frank. You married tort reform to the SSA because you had no choice. Now you're trapped—just like George Callister was trapped. The best thing that can happen to you is for the President to destroy the SSA."
The smile lingered in Fasano's eyes. "Don't you think," he asked, "that it's a little more complex? Or, perhaps, less. Beating Kilcannon is good. Losing to him is bad. Put more artfully, it has adverse implications for my future."
"Getting out of the way," Hampton answered, "is different than getting crushed. Or getting tarred with the SSA."
In the recesses of Fasano's gaze, Hampton glimpsed a disquiet he could not pin down. "Thanks for the advice," the Majority Leader told him pleasantly. "But you should assume that I'm going forward."
With a civil handshake, Hampton headed for his office, intent on phoning Senator Palmer. But the senior senator from Ohio was already taking Fasano's call.
FIFTEEN
Two hours after Hampton's warning, amidst rumors that Senator Coletti was about to switch his vote, Frank Fasano watched impassively as Vice President Ellen Penn recognized the senior senator from Ohio.
"A few hours from now," Chad began, "we are scheduled to vote to uphold, or override, President Kilcannon's veto. A few moments ago, the senior senator from Idaho suggested that we should hold this vote some other day—that in this 'emotional time' we cannot trust our reason." Pausing, Palmer turned toward Senator Harshman, allowing himself a hint of sarcasm. "Is this atmosphere any more 'emotional' than it was four days ago, when the Majority Leader set a vote after the President acknowledged the fact of—and the grounds for—an attempted act of blackmail? Or did it become too emotional only when we learned the identity of the blackmailer?
"Enough of this. Let us vote, and be done with it."
* * *
Crowded into the Oval Office, the President, Clayton, Kit, and his legislative relations team watched C-SPAN. No one spoke. No one knew what Palmer would say. Though he held the balance of the Senate in his hands, the senator from Ohio had told them nothing.
Where there is fact, Chad admonished his colleagues, we need not fall back on emotion. And the facts are clear enough.
The SSA sabotaged Martin Bresler.
The SSA threatened Lexington Arms with economic ruin.
The SSA—as Mr. Callister has now made clear—asked the Congress under false pretenses to place it above the law.
The SSA attempted to remove the final obstacle—the President—by the most despicable means . . .
"If I were Fasano," Kit ventured hopefully, "I wouldn't like the trend." But the President, intent on Palmer, did not respond.
Now, Palmer continued, the president of the SSA tells us that the president of Lexington is not to be believed. He tells us, having smeared the President of the United States, that an honorable businessman—who finally became too sick of Mr. Dane to cover up for him—is lying.
For what? To ruin his own career?
* * *
"He's a turncoat," Dane snapped at the screen. Sitting beside him, Carla Fell said nothing.
We know better, Palmer told the Senate. So let us not pretend that we don't know who the liar is. Or, for that matter, the blackmailer . . .
He could ride this out, Dane told himself. The SSA would not simply crumble in the face of these attacks, throwing Dane to the wolves to propitiate its enemies. The e-mails in response to his appearance on Larry King were proof that its members believed him—the most important "fact" of all.
With knowledge, Palmer went on, comes responsibility. I was a principal sponsor of this bill. I advanced the interests of the SSA. For me to say now that I dissociate myself from their tactics, but not their goals, would be unconscionable.
Carla Fell spoke at last. "Palmer's more than a turncoat, Charles. He just stabbed Fasano in the back."
* * *
Palmer's voice filled Sarah's office. Tort reform, he said firmly, is a worthy goal. Some other day, I will fight for any bill but this. But the principle at stake today is not tort reform, but who we are and how we do business. And that moral imperative impels us to tell the SSA—as did President Kilcannon after another ruthless lobby sacrificed my daughter to their aims—that we do not do business this way.
Watching, Mary told Sarah, "I think we did it."
Sarah felt a moment of pure elation. Perhaps, in the end, she had made the difference.
"I hope so," she answered with renewed trepidation. "But that may only make Bond come down even harder."
* * *
"When will this end?" Palmer asked the Senate. "And who will bring about the beginning of the end?
"I say that job falls to us. Like the President and First Lady, none of us are perfect. We all are worse than that, and we know far better than that." Pausing, Palmer ended flatly, "I ask you to join me in upholding the President's veto. Today."
As applause burst from the galleries, gaveled down by Ellen Penn, Cassie Rollins slipped over to Fasano. "Is this still a leadership vote?" she asked.
"You'll hear from me shortly," Fasano answered. "But whatever you do, you'll do it today."
"You're not trying to postpone this?"
"No."
As Cassie struggled to decipher this piece of news, Vic Coletti rose to speak. "I won't mince words," he said. "Or use many of my own. Senator Palmer spoke for me."
Across the aisle, Cassie noticed, Chuck Hampton glanced at Frank Fasano.
* * *
At five-thirty in the afternoon, having ignored his fourth message from Dane, Senator Fasano took the floor.
"I believe in this bill," he said simply. "All of it. It should become law—all of it. It should not be drowned by a sea of emotion, accusation, speculation, charge and countercharge. And whether or not we support the SSA, the issue of gun rights in America should never be placed in the hands of trial lawyers."
Standing straighter, Fasano surveyed his colleagues—their expressions by turn rapt, curious, bewildered, tense, as they awaited the will of the Senate's most powerful member. "Because it is right, I will vote to override the President. I urge you to do likewise. But however you vote, you should do so on the merits, without obligation to the President—or to me."
With that, Fasano sat down.
* * *
Shortly after six o'clock, in a hushed chamber, ninety-nine members of the United States Senate began casting their votes. The thirty-fourth vote to support the President, upholding his veto, was cast by Senator Cassie Rollins. The final vote was fifty-six to forty-three in favor of the President.
One senator, Jack Slezak of Michig
an, sent word through an aide that influenza had left him too ill to attend.
Leaving the chamber, Chad encountered Frank Fasano.
For Chad, it was a strange moment. He had inflicted a defeat on Fasano and, by doing so, had cemented the enmity of those who controlled his party's Presidential nomination. More curious yet, if their colleagues but knew, was that he had done what Fasano wished—delivered the coup de grâce to Charles Dane, for which he, not Fasano, would absorb the ire of the militant right. That Fasano's deal with him on campaign finance reform remained intact was Chad's recompense for doing what, in his heart, he had always known he must.
"Well," Fasano observed, "it's done. Kilcannon's won again."
Palmer shrugged. " 'The luck of the Irish,' " he said dryly. "If you can call it that. But you'll survive." Smiling, he lowered his voice still more. "You just dodged a bullet, Frank. An Eagle's Claw at that."
SIXTEEN
Shortly after the vote, President Kerry Kilcannon returned to the White House press room.
Whether he should do this was a matter of some debate—Clayton, for one, was worried that the potential appearance of triumphalism would ill suit a President who had sustained such personal damage. But it was time to reassert himself, Kerry felt, and he also had a debt to discharge. Stepping behind the podium he felt lighter, more confident than he had since the miserable day when the SSA had forced him to come here to acknowledge Lara's abortion.
With an air of ease and command, he scanned the reporters jammed into their appointed chairs. "Let me begin," he told them, "by publicly thanking the fifty-six senators who voted to sustain our veto of the Civil Justice Reform Act—and, most of all, Senator Chuck Hampton.
"This was a difficult fight. I am fortunate to have the aid of Senator Hampton on the next two legislative battles—for passage of our gun safety proposals, and Senator Palmer's effort to clean up our shameful and corrupt system of campaign finance." Kerry permitted himself a smile. "I'm also grateful to Senator Fasano for his agreement to bring those bills to a vote, without delay."
Kerry paused for emphasis, and his expression became serious. "I also want to express my respect for George Callister. His testimony not only exposed the SSA's control of the gun industry, but meant a great deal to me personally. He is an honorable man, and I look forward to working with him and other leaders of his industry to make our society safer."
Nodding briskly, the President signalled his willingness to take questions, then jabbed a finger in the direction of John King of CNN. "Mr. President," King said, "it seems likely that Mr. Callister's revelations expose the SSA to the risk of a sizeable verdict in Mary Costello's lawsuit. Do you agree, and how will that affect the political prospects for the passage of your gun bill?"
Briefly, the President considered his answer. "With respect to the lawsuit, it's not appropriate for me to comment on specifics. Obviously, the recent revelations—and I expect there will be others—will change the dynamics of the gun debate, both legally and in terms of public attitudes.
"The bottom line is this—I believe that my gun legislation will pass, and that thousands of men, women, and children will live who otherwise would have died."
"As of now," King persisted, "do you think that the SSA is a political leper?"
" 'Leper,' " Kerry answered with a smile. "Is that a term of art?" His smile faded. "I'll leave the phrasemaking to you, John. Obviously, this has been a difficult time, both for the First Lady and for me. I hope now there will be a greater public understanding of why we've persisted in this issue—one that transcends our personal history and focuses on the more than thirty thousand people other families lose to guns each and every year."
Glancing about, Kerry spotted the person he was looking for, a young woman from the Associated Press. Pointing in her direction, he said, "Marcia?"
She stood. "Sarah Dash—the lawyer who made public Mr. Callister's testimony—is now facing a contempt hearing. As a former lawyer yourself, do you have any comment?"
Gazing down at the podium, the President feigned thought. "I need to weigh my words here," he began. "Just as the judge has to weigh the respect due his orders against what one might consider the larger moral context.
"Strictly as a moral matter, I think Ms. Dash acted in the tradition of those who have risked adverse personal consequences to themselves in order to save lives, and expose the wrongdoing of others." Pausing, Kerry finished mildly, "Obviously, the judge did not intend his order as a cover-up for perjury, obstruction of justice, and the attempted blackmail of a President."
When the press conference was done, Clayton greeted Kerry in the hallway. "I hope Bond watches television," he said.
Kerry laughed aloud. "Oh, I think he'll get the message. Just remember we owe a favor to Kit's friend from the Associated Press."
* * *
With Lenihan at one side, Mary Costello and the Director of the Kilcannon Center at the other, Sarah Dash stood before Judge Bond. The benches behind them were full, and more reporters stood at the
rear of the courtroom. After weeks of judicial secrecy, Gardner Bond had lost the ability to shut out the press and public. But such was Bond's pride of place that this left Sarah no less apprehensive than before. His posture was stiff, his expression suffused with the offended dignity of an egotistical man to whom his primacy was all.
"Did you," Bond demanded of Lenihan, "know what your client and cocounsel intended?"
"I did not," Lenihan answered. "But Ms. Costello wishes me to advise the court that it was she who made the final decision."
Briefly, Sarah felt Mary touch her arm, and then Bond glared at them both. "Ms. Dash," he snapped, "is an officer of this court. Her role is to admonish her client to obey Court orders, not to foment their violation."
"I understand, Your Honor," Lenihan said agreeably. "But I also think that President Kilcannon put it very well. Ms. Dash acted to prevent a larger injustice . . ."
"Ms. Dash," Bond snapped, "acted to affect the political process in a manner adverse to the defendants."
"Forgive me," Lenihan answered more quietly. "But, given Mr. Callister's testimony, it's somewhat hard to see the difference."
Though visibly annoyed, Bond hesitated. On impulse, Sarah said, "May I be heard, Your Honor?"
Curtly nodding, Bond answered with veiled sarcasm. "Please."
Sarah's own voice was shaky but determined. "I do believe that politics and morality should coincide. As should justice and morality.
"As a lawyer, I deeply regret abridging this Court's order. It was a painful choice, and I apologize to you for the offense caused by the choice I felt I had to make." Sarah paused, then decided to take a chance. "As I made it, I could only hope that it was a judgment the Court would have considered making, had it stood where I stood, and known what I knew . . ."
"You're badly mistaken," Bond interjected sharply. "The choice was this Court's, not yours. Your only role was to ask me to dissolve the order."
Helpless, Sarah moved her shoulders. "There was no time," she said simply.
This clear reference to the Senate's pending vote seemed to deepen Bond's annoyance. Behind her, Sarah heard John Nolan's voice. "May I speak on behalf of Lexington, Your Honor?"
Bond gave a slightly more pacific nod. "Counsel."
Stepping forward, Nolan glanced at the piece of paper he held.
"Your Honor," he said in a subdued voice, "in light of my client's reevaluation of its interests in this litigation, our firm may be withdrawing as counsel. However, Mr. Callister has directed me to tell the Court that Lexington does not ask for, or endorse, any sanctions against Ms. Dash. However much or little that may weigh in the Court's consideration."
As surprised as, judging from his expression, was Gardner Bond himself, Sarah saw an indignant Harrison Fancher quickly rise to seek the judge's attention. "I assume," the judge said tartly, "that you don't share Mr. Callister's somewhat gratuitous beneficence."
"We do not." Fancher's t
one was one of open anger. "The SSA views Mr. Callister's testimony as slander—a tissue of lies used by Ms. Dash and her client, in blatant disregard of this Court's order, to shift the blame for the shootings to the SSA and to curry favor with the President. Who, as we all know, is the éminence grise of this entire travesty of justice."
Fancher shot a venomous glance at Sarah. "For her role," he concluded harshly, "we believe that Ms. Dash should face disbarment. That's a proper sanction for a lawyer who can't conform herself to the law."
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