Richard Patterson - Balance of Power

"Are you aware," she said, "that tracing records compiled by the ATF indicate that—in the last two years—the P-2 has been used in more crimes than any other semiautomatic handgun?"

"I've seen those numbers," the witness answered calmly. "But you have to put them in perspective. Arguably, the P-2 outsells all of its competitors. If you sell more guns, more of them are likely to be misused."

Nolan, Sarah noticed, looked serene. Not only was Callister buttressing their defense, but he did so with a practical and nondefensive air which lent his answers credibility. "Did you," she continued, "also review Lexington's internal records of trace requests to assess the frequency of the P-2's use in crimes?"

"I did not."

"For what reason?"

Callister placed down his cup, contemplating his hands as he rubbed them together lightly. "Understand something, Ms. Dash. I've wanted to discontinue the P-2 almost since the moment I arrived. I didn't need to go rooting through our files."

Though direct and more than a little surprising, Callister's response, Sarah sensed, hinted at something unsaid. The answer—closely analyzed—was really no answer at all. Though her instincts were aroused, Sarah deferred until later the line of questioning this suggested. Instead, she asked, "Why did you want to stop making the P-2?"

"Two reasons." Callister's tone was impersonal but pointed. "It was drawing bad publicity, and attracting lawsuits like yours. Our industry's profit margins are too thin as it stands. The P-2 was becoming more of a problem than a solution to our problems."

There was nothing wrong with the gun, Sarah heard him saying—just with an ecology populated by gun controllers and trial lawyers. Little wonder that Nolan had chosen to produce him.

Sarah's coffee had become lukewarm. Nonetheless she sipped it, taking the moment to appraise the man in front of her while she searched for the question. Then she put down her mug, gazing at him closely.

"You just testified that you never examined trace requests received by Lexington regarding the use of the P-2 in crimes, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever attempt to do so?"

The ghost of a smile moved one corner of Callister's mouth, so quickly that Sarah wondered if she had imagined it. "Yes."

For the first time, Sarah felt her nerve ends stir. "And when was that?"

Any trace of humor vanished from Callister's face, and his level grey eyes turned cold. "After the First Lady's brother-in-law killed three members of her family and three other people who were in his way."

As Nolan watched the witness intently, Sarah asked, "Did you ask anyone to look for those records?"

"Mike Reiner."

"And what was the result?"

Folding his hands in front of him, Callister looked straight at Sarah. "Reiner told me that we had no policy about retaining trace requests."

"And therefore had none in your files?"

"That's what he reported."

"Did you believe him?"

Callister's eyes seemed chillier yet. "I believed that we had no policy. And that the records were gone."

Sarah felt Lenihan lean toward her, preparing to whisper advice. "When you say 'gone,' " Sarah asked, "do you mean destroyed?"

"Yes."

" Before or after John Bowden killed six people?"

"I had no way of knowing." Pausing, Callister spoke in measured tones. "It's important to remember, Ms. Dash, that this occurred before you filed this lawsuit and served us with a demand for the records we're discussing."

In other words, as Sarah understood the answer, no one had obstructed justice. "Nonetheless," she inquired, "did you believe that Mr. Reiner himself had destroyed the records you asked for?"

Callister's eyes narrowed. "Before or after I requested them?"

Surprised, Sarah hesitated for an instant. "After."

"Again, Ms. Dash, I had no way of knowing."

Sarah placed both arms on the arms of her chair, leaning slightly forward. "Did you suspect that?"

Briefly, Callister hesitated. "Yes."

"For what reason?"

Nolan, she saw, looked hyperalert now, but lacked the grounds, or perhaps the inclination, to interfere with Callister's answer. "I asked for other records," the witness responded, "and was told that they were also missing."

"Told by whom?"

"Reiner."

"What records were those?"

"Records showing the volume of P-2s sold in states adjacent to California." Pausing, Callister added more pointedly, "Also the invoices showing where we'd shipped the murder weapon."

Sarah glanced at Nolan. "What did Mr. Reiner tell you?"

"That no effort had been made to retain them."

"Did you happen to ask Reiner," Sarah inquired with the hint of a smile, "whether any effort had been made to destroy them?"

Callister frowned—less at the question, Sarah sensed, than at the intimation behind it. "Yes," he answered tersely.

"And what did Reiner say?"

"That he had no specific knowledge of what had happened to the records."

The edge of distrust in Callister's voice illuminated for Sarah an unexpected image of George Callister as a man caught in an environment he had begun to suspect was treacherous. "Aside from the disappearance of the records themselves, did you have any other reason to suspect that Reiner might be lying to you?"

"Objection," Nolan asserted. "Lack of foundation. I don't believe the record justifies an accusation of deliberate lying."

Slowly, Callister turned to his lawyer. "No," he said flatly. "I think 'lying' about covers it." Facing Sarah, he said, "Reiner and I had fundamental disagreements about the future of our company."

"Such as?"

"I wanted to discontinue making the P-2 and the Eagle's Claw bullet. In both cases, Reiner was adamantly opposed."

Abruptly, Sarah felt her litigator's field of vision open wide. "For what reason did you want to drop the Eagle's Claw?"

Callister paused to frame his answer. "In my view, its lethality exceeded our customers' requirements. Therefore the controversy involved in making such a bullet outweighed its utility.

"Reiner disagreed. In his view, the P-2 and Eagle's Claw were essential to our position in the marketplace. But the fact that I'm sitting here tends to validate my judgment."

The last two sentences hinted at disgust and a certain weariness. It was the first time, Sarah noticed, that any of Callister's answers had clearly exceeded the scope of her question.

Nolan seemed to notice as well. "We've been going for over an hour," he suggested. "Why don't we take a break?"

* * *

It was fifteen minutes before the witness and his lawyer returned to the conference room. When Sarah's questioning resumed, Callister angled his body slightly away from Nolan. The two men no longer chatted about football, or much of anything else.

"Given your concerns about Reiner," Sarah asked bluntly, "did you ever attempt to independently determine what had happened to the missing documents?"

Briefly, Callister glanced at the table. "I made no such attempt."

"Why not?"

Once more his eyes met Sarah's. "Because it would have involved investigating my own vice president of marketing. After the First Lady's family was murdered, I had more pressing concerns—like keeping this company afloat. It wasn't the right environment."

Between the phlegmatic lines lay an answer of startling candor: an internal inquiry which uncovered the truth would have been devastating to Lexington's public posture and, even worse, could have generated evidence damning in a lawsuit like Mary Costello's. "So it was better," Sarah said sharply, "to believe that Reiner was dishonest than to prove it."

The cast of Callister's broad midwestern face suggested both resentment and defensiveness. "The First Lady's mother, sister, and niece had been murdered with a gun and bullets made by Lexington Arms. Aside from the terrible impact on her family, these murders could have spelled the end of a century-old business which employs hundreds of good people. I owed all my energies and judgment to the task of protecting the company and the families who rely on it."