Balance of Power

TEN

Two days after his return, Kerry met with Clayton Slade; Jack Sanders, his principal domestic policy advisor; and Alex Cole, his congressional liaison.

In those two days—despite the chorus of relief and praise stemming from the announcement of Mahmoud Al Anwar's death—the President had not appeared in public. Though the media was an echo chamber of speculation, in the tumult over Al Anwar there had been no leaks regarding his directive to Clayton, Sanders and Cole. This was as Kerry intended.

Before the others were settled, Clayton took Kerry aside. "Bob Lenihan called, Mr. President. He made his apologies for asking, but he desperately wants to see you."

This brought an ironic smile to Kerry's lips. "No matter how dire the national condition, or my own, I'll always have time for Bob." Turning, he spoke to Cole. "Run that tape for us, Alex. At the least it will focus our thinking."

Cole pressed the button on Kerry's VCR. On the screen, Paul Harshman of Idaho, a member of the SSA Board of Governors, stood in the well of the Senate. Gravely, he read from his copy of a letter sent to Kerry by George Callister, provided to Harshman by Lexington Arms.

"It's an interesting experience," the President said with muted sarcasm, "hearing your own mail read aloud. It almost sounds like I wasn't meant to read it."

"It is with deep sorrow and regret," Harshman quoted, "that we learned one of our handguns had been so terribly misused . . ."

"Only handguns?" Kerry murmured. "Once again, Callister forgot the bullets."

On the tape, Harshman's gaunt visage assumed an expression of deep solemnity. "To prevent such tragedies in the future, we propose the following:

"First, Lexington will pay for the cost of voluntary background checks at gun shows when any Lexington weapon is sold . . ."

"No doubt Bowden would have volunteered," Clayton remarked.

"Second," Harshman continued, "we will join you, Mr. President, in urging Congress to fund a comprehensive drive to ensure that all criminal acts of domestic violence are entered into the database for background checks . . ."

"No point in volunteering," Kerry observed, "unless you're certain you'll be caught."

"In this manner," Harshman went on, "we can better control all those prone to violence without abridging the rights of law-abiding gun owners . . ."

"Insulting," Clayton murmured disgustedly. "Total eyewash, right from the SSA playbook, intended to make Lexington sound 'responsible' in the public mind. I'm surprised he remembered to send you a copy."

Kerry kept staring at the television. "Callister's playing games with me," he told the others softly. "In public. No one should try to do that with a President."

* * *

When the tape was over, Clayton spoke first. "No leaks," he ordered Cole and Sanders. "No speculation about the President's motives. I don't want to read some article in Newsweek or the New York Times about the anatomy of this decision."

Both men nodded. "Okay," Clayton said to Sanders. "Take us through the polling data."

"What we found," Sanders told the President, "is that almost seventy percent of Americans think that the Constitution protects gun ownership for individuals. And well over half of those are concerned that you'll go too far in eroding gun rights. I'd save licensing and registration for another day . . ."

"We license drivers," Kerry objected. "We register cars."

"Seems right. But there's this libertarian mythology built around the Second Amendment. Where in the Bill of Rights does it say that a 'wellorganized militia' has the right to drive a Ford?"

"What about the SSA mantra—'all we have to do is enforce existing gun laws'?"

Sanders glanced at the paper in his lap. "Fifty-four percent agree with the SSA. But that's misleading. Because almost no one knows what bullshit 'existing law' really is."

Silent, Kerry appraised him. Quietly, he said, "I take it your polling included questions about the murders."

For an instant, Sanders hesitated. "It did. A great majority believed that 'existing law' would have prevented Bowden from buying a handgun without a background check. When we explained that while 'existing law' made it 'illegal' for a batterer to buy a gun, there was no background check required to determine if Bowden was a batterer, most folks were amazed . . ."

" 'Existing law,' " Kerry interposed in mordant tones. "The honor code for criminals."

"Not a bad line," Clayton observed. "Better than when you called gun shows 'Tupperware parties for murderers.' Our rhetoric needs to distinguish between felons or spouse abusers, and the 'normal' folks who take their kids to gun shows instead of Disney World."

"That's fine," Kerry responded. "But our real challenge is to win. And that means saying clearly and succinctly exactly what we'll do to reduce gun violence, and then trying to enact it with all the weapons we possess.

"We Democrats have developed this sick attraction to losing, and an absolute fear of being tough—or even saying what we believe. That's why I beat Dick Mason in the primaries when nobody thought I would. Voters finally decided they didn't want a President with no idea of who he was from one week to the next.

"Oddly enough, Americans find an identity crisis unnerving in a leader. They expect me to be precisely who I am, and they've always known where I stand on guns. And why." Pausing, Kerry softened his tone. "I can make a clear distinction between responsible gun owners and people like John Bowden. But if this isn't the time for us to stop the cycle of violence, it never will be. The question is whether we're good enough to rally the country, and mean enough to beat the Republicans and the SSA."

Sober, the others seemed to ponder what this might involve. "How was your meeting with Chuck Hampton?" Cole asked.

"Chuck has his concerns," Kerry replied calmly. "Five or six senators who still think I'd screw up a two-car parade, if only out of recklessness."

"Maybe we can help him out," Cole suggested. "Throw in some stuff that'll never pass, like licensing and registration, then let Chuck's waverers strip them off the bill. That would allow them to stand up for the gun rights of ordinary citizens, and still vote for what we really want."

Kerry shook his head. "That builds in more delay, which is what Fasano wants. We need to propose the law we mean to see enacted and build pressure to pass it quickly."

Cole considered this. "Then the best way to do that, Mr. President, is to frame this as anticrime legislation. We're keeping bad guns and bad bullets away from bad people. Period."

Kerry smiled faintly. "Sounds simple, doesn't it. Accomplish that, and we'll deserve the Nobel Peace Prize." Turning to Sanders, he asked, "How do we manage that?"

"Universal background checks, to start. On every gun sold in America."

Kerry nodded. "At the least, a criminal shouldn't be able to break out of jail, walk across the street to a gun show, and buy a Lexington P-2. As I intend to tell a joint session of Congress, very soon."

"You're rolling this on national TV?" Sanders asked. "That raises the stakes, Mr. President."

"So did Bowden," Kerry answered softly. "With a little help from you guys, I think I can find the words."

The sense of consequence, and the pressure it placed on Kerry, seemed as sobering to the others as it felt to Kerry himself. "I can reemerge in public only once," he told them. "When I do, I'd better light up the switchboards. Or this is going nowhere."

The room was silent. "Lara will be with me," Kerry continued. "My speech to Congress should be the beginning of a national campaign— meetings with victims and cops, going to any state or district where the senator or congressman is susceptible to pressure. And if that doesn't work, we'll hold hostage whatever pet project they most want."

"Hardball," Cole cautioned the President, "could cost us down the road."

Kerry stood, restless. "We've got no choice, Alex. In the Senate we'll have to crack a filibuster—all Fasano and the SSA will need is forty senators to keep this law from coming to a vote. To pass it I have to impress—or buy—at least sixty-one senators. Failing that, we'll be forced to make our appeal somewhat more Darwinian."

Without pause, Kerry turned back to Sanders. "Just draft a law that works," he directed. "No guns for people like Bowden. No guns that accept forty-round magazines. No Eagle's Claw bullets for anyone. I'll take it from there."

* * *

After the meeting, Kerry and Clayton sat alone.

"You'll need absolute self-control," Clayton told him. "Calculated fury—no public displays of anger, no mistakes of the heart. Just keep up the pressure until the SSA goes radioactive.

"This can't be about you, Kerry. Or even about Lara. You've already got all the sympathy you need, without asking."

Kerry stared at him. "Why do you suppose I had you sit on Al Anwar's death until after we buried Lara's family? For those four days we didn't need to ask."

For a moment, Clayton was silent. "What about Bob Lenihan?" he asked. "Do you want to see him?"

"Invite him back for my speech to Congress. It's occurred to me he could be useful."

Clayton studied him. "And Callister's letter?"

Turning, Kerry gazed out the window. "It can wait," he answered softly. "I'm saving Callister for last."

* * *

That evening, Kerry and Lara dined alone, by candlelight. Their conversation, as so often now, was desultory and muted.

"Has Mary talked about a lawsuit?" Kerry asked. "Or met with any lawyers?"

"Not that I know of." Across the table, Lara gave him a querying look. "She still blames me, Kerry, and she's still just trying to cope. What made you think of that?"

"A couple of things. Maybe you should ask her."