Balance of Power

TWENTY

That evening, on the Mall, two opposing forces, each numbered in the thousands, gathered to raise their voices for, or against, the President of the United States.

By far the quieter demonstration was a somber candlelight vigil which enveloped the Lincoln Memorial. Flanked by Secret Service agents, Kerry addressed them from the head of the marble steps. Thousands of candles surrounded the deep black pool of the Mall, casting shadows on the demonstrators huddled in the chill of night, or, more haunting, on five thousand life-size cardboard figures of men, women and children murdered with guns. From Kerry's vantage point, the difference was that the cutouts were utterly still.

"In the next hour," Kerry told them, "and every hour until we change our gun laws, four more of us will die."

Pausing, Kerry listened to his words echo through the sound system, carrying to the edges of the pro-gun demonstrators surrounding the Washington Monument, white marble against black sky. "At the other end of the Mall," he said, "the SSA is calling for our defeat. But how do they honor the memory of those who have already died—these silent witnesses to violence whom you commemorate tonight—or the eighty Americans who will die tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day in a toll of death as inexorable as it is unnecessary.

"They offer only this: 'kill someone with a gun, and we'll throw the book at you—up to, and including, the death penalty.' "

In the attentive silence of his listeners, Kerry heard a primal roar issue from the demonstrators centered on the obelisk. "But," he said with quiet force, "we know, all too well, precisely what that means. That two deaths are better than none."

Kerry gazed out at the far end of the Mall where, he knew, Charles Dane was speaking. In a clear voice, he finished softly. "We can do better in this country. And with your help, we will."

* * *

"The President's goal," Charles Dane told his legions, "is to use a coalition of trial lawyers and liberal authoritarians to disarm each and every one of you.

"And how does he plan to do it?" In a show of anger, Dane crashed his fist down on the podium. "By promoting a climate of hate in which you are less than human, a collection of four million twisted souls who love your guns more than your own children . . ."

Protest issued from a thousand throats. "Tell him," Dane called out, "that you love your children enough to defend them. Tell this man that you are the SSA, the defenders of freedom, the largest civil rights group this country has ever seen, the largest gathering of freedom fighters in the history of the planet.

"Our Constitution is the product of the Founding Fathers' steel-gut, iron-jawed, unflinching devotion to a freedom bought with their own blood. And you are their heirs, with the honor and duty of saving that freedom from the tyranny of this illegitimate President, King George in a pin-striped suit . . ."

The outcries commingled anger and derision. Gazing at the shadowy figures, Dane felt a surge of hope that he could defeat his enemy. "Like King George," he called out, "Kerry Kilcannon is waging war on you. But his war is a culture war—a latter-day McCarthyism which denigrates you and everything you hold dear. If you believe that white pride is equal to black pride; that gays are not more equal than straights; and that singling out gun owners is like singling out Jews, then—in the world of our new McCarthy—you're 'politically incorrect.' " Bathed in light, Dane flashed a smile of defiance and disdain. "But true Americans know a simple truth—the Founding Fathers of political incorrectness were the American heroes who signed the Declaration of Independence in defiance of a tyrant.

"You must not be silenced. You, not Kilcannon, are the true voice of America." Dane's own voice became a shout. "And with our voices raised, we must tell America the truth—that this self-styled 'KFK' is the worst threat to our freedoms since we rid the world of Communism, and that we will never be safe until we're rid of him forever . . ."

With the deep roar of the crowd Dane felt transported by his power. He stood, fists upraised, suffused by the seemingly endless sound of their devotion. He remained silent, still, until, like an actor, the drama of his stillness drew them back at last.

"There are only two sides," he told them, "his, and ours. The Senate must choose between us."

* * *

In her efficiency apartment on Capitol Hill, Cassie Rollins watched Dane achieve near rapture on CNN. Yes, she thought, the Senate must choose. She did not look forward to that moment.