Richard Patterson - Balance of Power

"Frankly, I think a lot of your Democrat friends would rather keep the issue alive, and complain about the SSA, than pass a law. Others would rather take credit for passing a bullshit law which sounds good but does nothing. Because all they really care about is winning the next election."

Whatever quarrel Kerry might have with this, he had no doubt that Callister's bleak view of politics was deeply held. "So far," he said, "we've got the public, which is fickle, and the politicians who exploit them. What makes that problem unique to you?"

"The lawyers." Callister's voice combined disdain with resignation. "The plaintiffs' lawyers—your fervent supporters—are always looking for the next big thing. Five years ago it was tobacco: that's where they got all the money they keep giving to politicians who treat lawsuits as the American way. After tobacco, they decided to take a run at us.

"They dress it up in a lot of noble rhetoric, trying to make us out to be the moral equivalent of R.J. Reynolds. But these lawsuits all come down to a single bogus theory: that because guns can be used to kill people, we're responsible whenever somebody actually uses a gun to kill someone—particularly if they can call it an 'assault weapon' . . ."

"If the suits are bogus," Kerry interrupted, "why worry?"

"Bogus or not, they cost money. We have to hire our own lawyers, who keep sending bills and telling us we'll win. But by the time we do win, we've paid them millions, and taken a hellacious beating in the media. Because the plaintiffs' bar has used the press, politicians, and any other weapon they can to try to taint the jury pool by poisoning the public mind." Pausing, Callister sounded genuinely weary. "Most presidents of gun companies are middle-aged white guys like me, who aren't media-slick or even photogenic. We make pretty good villains—especially with our own lawyers advising us to shut up and keep our heads down. When was the last time you saw a gun company get a break on 60 Min utes ?"

Kerry nodded. "Being ambushed by Mike Wallace," he responded, "is worth avoiding."

"That's the fourth dimension—the media. They live off sensationalism, not enlightenment—off tragedies like Columbine and extremists on both sides. Why ask a boring guy like me about the realities of our business, when you can put on some Aryan supremacist or the president of the SSA?"

"You can complain about the skinheads," Kerry retorted, "but you've let the SSA speak for you. You've stood silent while they've gutted the laws, even though whenever someone who shouldn't have a gun kills somebody else, the gun companies share the blame. And now they've trashed Martin Bresler for trying to get you out of a legal and public relations mess the SSA has put you in. It's a joke."

"Anyone who controls your customer base," Callister replied, "is no joke. How do you think the SSA gets its power? By scaring the bejesus out of millions of people who buy and own our guns.

"For the SSA, you're the man who'll strip Americans of their gun rights, and only they can stop you. And so their members—our customers—vote how the SSA says to vote, and send the SSA the money it uses to fund your political opponents, or to scare the hell out of them as well. And then the SSA goes about scaring the hell out of the rest of America by describing all the criminals who'll be beating down their doors once you've snatched their guns away. You complain about Lexington marketing fear? Our ads are nothing compared to the six o'clock news and the SSA propaganda machine.

"I've got no way to reach my own customers, Mr. President. Let alone to reason with them." Callister stopped, his gaze holding Kerry's. "A few years ago, the president of our biggest rival was fool enough to say that he thought licensing gun owners was inevitable. The SSA didn't bother complaining to him : they used the media and their own magazine and e-mail list, and pretty soon our rival company found themselves on the wrong end of a consumer boycott which drove it to the brink of bankruptcy. Which is exactly what will happen to Lexington if the SSA finds out I'm here."

Kerry considered him. "Tell me about Bresler," he demanded.

Callister studied the table, then looked directly at Kerry. "Nothing pretty about that, not even a veneer of civility. They just put his head on the block . . ."—with a swift, chopping motion, Callister hit the table with the edge of a thick hand—"then mailed it to me."

"The SSA?"

"I can't prove that." Pausing, Callister spoke more quietly. "Whatever the SSA did, they did without me. But Bresler was a threat to them. As public relations, the safety lock agreement he made with you was brilliant—it was the first good media we've gotten in years, and maybe down the road it'll spare us lawsuits where some six-year-old kills little sis, with the gun Dad was too dumb to lock up. But the SSA lives off conflict, and the perception of its power: if we can compromise with you, and someone else can broker that deal, then the SSA is out of business . . ."

"So they got Bresler."

"That's what I believe. But all my fellow CEOs would say was that Bresler was too much of a self-promoter, that he was dividing the gun rights lobby."

Kerry shook his head. "Your fellow CEOs," he observed, "may have had their reasons. But they put me in mind of lemmings."

Callister turned, surveying the valley. "Someday," he said bleakly, "a gun company will be destroyed by a lawsuit based on some loophole the SSA and its surrogates in Congress created to protect the 'rights' of gun owners. But my colleagues can't look ahead that far, except to hope it won't be them. Because the SSA can destroy them here and now." He turned to face the President. "This may be hard for you to fathom. But I love this company, and I care about the folks who work there. I don't want Lexington Arms to be the one that goes."

Kerry stood, taking his turn at surveying the view around them. But his mind was on his next few words. "Then the only question," he said at length, "is how to ensure that doesn't happen." Turning, he gazed down at Callister. "Right now, you're like a man in a catatonic trance— perfectly aware that you could get run over, but unable to move, or even cry out for help."

Callister's smile mingled resentment with an acknowledgment of his dilemma. "What would you do?"

"Take control of my own fate, for better or worse." Kerry sat again, meeting Callister's gaze. "I'll think about all you've said. I'd like you to think about how to avoid lawsuits, and what Lexington needs to survive the SSA. The next time we meet, I'll have a deal to propose. If you're willing to listen."

For a long moment Callister studied him. "I'll listen to a President," he finally answered. "I don't need the SSA's permission for that ."

FIFTEEN

"The President's wedding," Peter Lake said dryly, "must be the nightmare of the event-planning business."

The head of the President's Secret Service detail sat in Clayton's office with those summoned to review the security for Kerry's wedding and reception: Kit Pace and Francesca Thibault from the White House; Connie Coulter on behalf of Lara. There were smiles all around, and then Francesca Thibault allowed, "It is a bit more challenging than the Easter Egg Roll."

"Or pardoning the White House Turkey," Peter rejoined. "From a security standpoint, it's more like the wedding of Charles and Diana." Surveying the others, Peter sat back, a burly, even-tempered man with a law degree, a philosophical bent, a deep spiritual commitment to his Roman Catholic faith, and, above all, a total dedication to protecting Kerry Kilcannon. "It's a unique opportunity," he continued, "for highprofile mischief—terrorists, crazies, protestors of every stripe, malcontents wanting to make a point, anyone who thinks he has a grievance against the President. We're not only telling people like Mahmoud Al Anwar the time and place, we're offering them the cover of hundreds of guests, and thousands more hoping to get a glimpse of the President and new First Lady."