"No, it isn't true," Kilcannon answered calmly. "But he did decline my request in that regard. Both before and after the murders."
"And it's also true, is it not, that you blame the SSA for Congress's failure to enact the kind of gun laws you think should exist?"
"In some measure, yes. I also blame myself for failing to get them enacted. I'm trying to rectify that."
"In fact," Nolan pressed, "isn't this lawsuit part of an effort to do that?"
"Whose effort? I'm not a party. And if anything tarnishes your client, it will be the facts you seem to be trying to suppress . . ."
"Isn't," Nolan snapped, "Mary Costello conducting this lawsuit at your direction?"
"Mary," Kilcannon answered, "has never talked with me about this lawsuit."
Nolan scowled in disbelief. "Have you discussed it with Ms. Dash?"
Briefly, the President glanced in Sarah's direction. "I admire Ms. Dash's work. But I've never spoken to her before this morning."
"But you do know Mr. Lenihan. And have for some time."
"True."
"In fact, he's your leading supporter."
"I try to encourage a little competition for that title. But he's certainly been supportive."
"And have you discussed this lawsuit with Mr. Lenihan?"
"Once. Shortly after the murders, he asked me if Mary might require representation. I replied that, if she did, I couldn't think of anyone better. Nothing more was said. Sometime thereafter, I learned that Mary had engaged Mr. Lenihan as cocounsel."
"Do you know how Mary Costello came to engage Ms. Dash?"
The President shrugged. "I think Lara may have suggested it. What did Mary say?"
Frustrated, Nolan renewed his attack. "Did you discuss Ms. Dash's engagement with the First Lady?"
The President sat straighter, looking straight at Nolan. "Lara's my wife, Mr. Nolan. Three of her family members were slaughtered. You can fairly surmise that, from time to time, the subject comes up—even, on occasion, Mary's lawsuit. In fact, we may even discuss this deposition over dinner. But that's not for you to know."
"Are you refusing to answer?"
At this, Avram Gold began to speak. Gently, the President placed a hand on his wrist. "Lara and I may be public figures," he told Nolan. "But we have the same privilege of privacy between us as any other couple . . ."
"Are you," Nolan cut in, "directing this lawsuit through Mrs. Kilcannon?"
" 'Directing'? No. That's the job of the lawyers, I would have thought."
"Then you can clear all this up, Mr. President, by telling me whether you're using your wife as a conduit for your instructions to Mary Costello and her attorneys . . ."
"There's about to be some 'directing' done," Avram Gold interjected. "By me. By asking your last question you're trying to get the President to waive the marital privilege, now and in the future. I'm directing the President not to answer any questions about his private marital communications with the First Lady. That's the law, and it's also a matter of simple decency. It's a shame that I have to remind you of either."
"Are you," Nolan demanded of Kilcannon, "refusing to answer my question?"
"Yes." The President's faint smile returned. "Out of respect for Professor Gold. And, of course, my wife."
Nolan drew himself up. "I must advise you, sir, that we may be forced to bring a motion to reopen your deposition. And that the necessity of doing so may delay your sister-in-law's case from coming to trial."
"We're both lawyers," the President answered. "So we both know that such a motion would be groundless—your effort to manufacture yet more delay, not mine.
"You have, I understand, managed to conceal all discovery from public view. I can certainly see why. But you'd have to bring this motion you're threatening in open court, before the press and public, urging that Lexington has the right to insinuate itself into our lives even more than it already has. I'd welcome the chance to respond. So, I think, would Lara."
For once, Nolan seemed without words. His motion, Sarah felt confident, would never see the light of day. Next to her, Lenihan inquired lazily, "Are we through here, John? Some of us have things to do."
* * *
That night, as Lara slept, Kerry went to the Oval Office.
In the top drawer of his desk was a file of notes written in his own hand—conversations with Joan, the telephone number of the District Attorney's office and, later, the security firm. The final document was his own copy of John Bowden's letter.
He had not dared to look at it in weeks. Now he could not stop reading it. All that served to distract him from the words was his even more indelible memory of the murders themselves.
FIVE
The next morning, when Kerry returned to the Oval Office, he brought with him a copy of the SSA Defender magazine.
The cover featured a caricature of President Kerry Kilcannon sipping champagne in white tie and tails, captioned in bold letters, "Has this man ever been to a gun show?" The article inside praised gun shows as a place for "American families to enjoy the sporting traditions central to our way of life." Kerry flipped to a page he had marked with a paper clip, a calendar of gun-related events.
Underlined in red was a gun show in Las Vegas. He placed it next to a typed itinerary for the next two days, built around a speech in San Francisco. Then he picked up the telephone and called Kit Pace. "I want to change tomorrow's schedule," he told her.
* * *
Bernadette Fasano was one week from her due date and her husband—who despised cell phones, but was committed to being present for the delivery of each of their children—had stuffed a phone in his pocket before he left home. It was still there when, at noon, he ate a sandwich with Charles Dane in the SSA's conference room.
Dane pressed the start button on a VCR. "What you're about to see," he said in an orotund impression of a television reporter, "is just one of the many important pro bono services of America's trial lawyers."
On the screen appeared photographs of Henry Serrano, David Walsh, and Laura Blanchard, the other victims in the Costello shootings. Scrolling beneath them were the words of Lexington's advertisement in the SSA magazine. Their faces faded to black, and a quiet voice asked, "Just who is the 'endangered species'? "
"Is this from Lenihan's group?" Fasano inquired.
"Yup. They've started running ads in major media markets. We're compiling their greatest hits."
The next spot focused on Felice Serrano, holding a photograph of her late husband playing a board game with their children. I pray that every member of Congress will remember George before they vote against gun safety . . .