Balance of Power

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 Michigan, 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."