Balance of Power

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?