Carefully, Nolan posed a series of neutral questions, and then broached the subject of Bresler's contacts with President Kilcannon.
"Prior to your meeting with the President," he inquired, "did you discuss a possible agreement regarding trigger locks with any representatives of the Republicans in Congress?"
The inquiry startled Sarah. But she knew the answer well enough: Frank Fasano and Paul Harshman.
To her surprise, the question induced in Bresler a silent stare at the table which, Sarah suddenly thought, seemed intended to avoid her gaze. "I'm not sure," Bresler answered in a monotone. "Right now I don't recall any."
Sarah tensed. Beside her, Lenihan expelled a breath, audible to Sarah. The only people in the room who seemed contained were Nolan, Fancher and Evan Pritchard. Calmly, Nolan said, "Then you also don't recall discussing with any Republicans in Congress the SSA's attitude toward such an agreement."
Still Bresler gazed at the table. "No."
"Bullshit," Lenihan muttered with quiet fury.
No one but Sarah looked at him. "Or," Nolan continued, "discussing your approach to the Republicans with any manufacturers?"
Briefly, Bresler shook his head. "I'm sorry," Nolan prodded. "For the sake of the reporter, your answer must be audible."
Bresler cleared his throat. "The answer is no."
With a tap of her fingers, the reporter added Bresler's denial to the record of his sworn testimony, and the knowledge of what was happening demolished the last vestige of Sarah's disbelief.
"Did you," Nolan was asking, "discuss your approach to President Kilcannon with anyone from the SSA?"
"Yes," Bresler said more firmly. "With Charles Dane. Just before we went to the White House."
"Could you describe that conversation?"
"Charles expressed his disappointment in no uncertain terms. In his view, compromising with Kilcannon would embolden him to further attack gun rights."
"Did you agree?"
For the first time, Bresler looked up. "Obviously not."
Perhaps, Sarah allowed herself to hope, Bresler had decided not to alienate the Republicans, but would tell the truth about the SSA. Silently, she urged him to resist John Nolan.
"During this conversation," Nolan asked quietly, "did Mr. Dane threaten you in any way?"
Bresler folded his arms. "He did not."
"Or any members of your group, such as Lexington Arms?"
"No."
"How would you describe the conversation?"
Nolan, Sarah recognized, was phrasing his questions as though he already knew the answers. Bresler resumed staring at the table. In a voice so soft that it was barely audible, he said, "Very professional. Charles's tone was 'more in sorrow than in anger.' I appreciated that."
Shaking his head in disgust, Lenihan stared at Bresler. Evan Pritchard turned to him. "Let the record reflect, Mr. Lenihan, that you're engaging in a series of muttered asides and discourteous gestures toward the witness. I have to ask you to behave professionally."
"Define 'professional,' " Lenihan said with genuine anger. "Does that mean suborning perjury, as you and Mr. Nolan are doing now? Or does being professional consist of watching you do it?"
Bresler, Sarah noticed, briefly closed his eyes. "I hope," Pritchard answered coldly, "that you're prepared to take these charges to the bar association. If not, I'm prepared to advise Judge Bond that you made them without grounds, and let him determine the appropriate sanction."
Sarah placed a hand on Lenihan's arm. "Let it go," she whispered. "You're making things worse."
Lenihan turned to her, flushed. "How could I?" he whispered back in an accusing tone. "You based an entire complaint on the word of this fucking weasel."
Expressionless, Nolan sat there as if nothing had happened. After a silence consumed by Pritchard's continuing stare at Lenihan, Pritchard turned to Nolan, and nodded.
"Did there come a time," Nolan asked Bresler, "that you discussed with President Kilcannon a possible agreement regarding voluntary background checks at gun shows?"
"Yes."
"Did you discuss that proposal with anyone from the SSA?"
Bresler shook his head. "I had no need. I knew Charles was opposed."
As Nolan sat back, placing a pen to his lips, Harrison Fancher trained a fixed gaze on the witness. Still Bresler did not look up.
"For what reason," Nolan asked, "did you and the President fail to reach agreement regarding gun shows?"
Bresler bit his lip. "My trade association disbanded."
"For what reason?"
"I lost the support of my members." Bresler's tone was soft, almost rote. "I got carried away with myself, and tried to move too fast. The companies I represented weren't comfortable with that."
"How do you know that?"
"Three CEOs called me—a majority. They felt I was splitting the gun movement, being too high profile. In retrospect, they were right."
It was perjury as recantation, Sarah thought, a confession of error worthy of a Stalinist show trial, delivered in the manner of a beaten man. And she could only watch.
"Did any of these CEOs," Nolan asked, "attribute their attitudes to the SSA?"
"No."
"Do you have any basis for believing that the SSA did anything to disband your organization?"
Bresler shook his head, a vague, disheartened gesture. "No."
"Did you ever discuss the SSA with Mr. Callister?"
"I did not."
Nolan leaned forward. "In short, Mr. Bresler, are you aware of any basis in plaintiff's complaint for the allegation that the SSA controls Lexington Arms?"
With an expectant glance, Pritchard turned to Bresler. Hunching farther in his chair, Bresler responded, "None whatsoever."
Savagely, Lenihan whispered, "Except for you, you little fuck."
This time Pritchard ignored him. "Indeed," Nolan continued, "didn't the SSA hire your top aide, Jerry Kirk?"
Bresler's nod was almost as imperceptible as his voice was hushed. "Yes."
"And how did that happen?"
There was a brief pause. "Charles Dane hired Jerry," Bresler answered, "as a favor to me. I was worried about Jerry's family."
Stunned, Sarah stared at him. But Bresler had yet to look at her. "And so," Nolan concluded, "as far as you know, Charles Dane's only action in connection with the disbanding of your group was the benign one of hiring Jerry Kirk."
"Yes."
With this, Sarah thought, Bresler's subjugation was complete. "Did there come a time," Nolan asked,"when you met with plaintiff's counsel—Mr. Lenihan and Ms. Dash?"
Though Bresler raised his eyes at last, his tone and manner remained robotic. "At Sea Ranch. Shortly before they filed their complaint."
"At whose initiative did it occur?"
"Ms. Dash called me."
Nolan's expression became a barely perceptible smile. "And who paid your expenses?"
"Plaintiff's counsel."
"What was the purpose of the meeting?"
Bresler's arms, still crossed in front of his chest, seemed to tighten around himself. "As I understood it, they wanted to make a case against the SSA."
"On what did you base that understanding?"
Bresler's shoulders twitched. "Pretty much all they asked me about was the SSA."
"And what did you tell them?"
It was strange, Sarah thought: now Bresler's gaze was trained on Nolan, as though steeling himself to complete his lie. "Exactly what I just told you."
"In all respects?" Nolan persisted.
Another brief pause. "Yes."
"Did you discuss with plaintiff's counsel whether you'd execute an affidavit?"
Silent, Lenihan scowled. "Before we talked about what I'd say," Bresler answered, "Mr. Lenihan said that they might like one. Afterward they never mentioned it."
"And were you willing to give them an affidavit, saying what you've just said here?"
"Yes."
Outraged, Lenihan half stood. S
arah, frozen, was filled with impotent fury at the extent of Bresler's betrayal. With a last brief smile, Nolan said, "Thank you, Mr. Bresler."
* * *
Standing outside the conference room, Lenihan and Sarah whispered furiously.
"No affidavit," Lenihan said in a savage undertone. "From the moment Bresler said that, we should have sent him packing. Instead you've given us a case without a basis."
"There is a basis. Bresler's lying."
"What a surprise." Lenihan's tone dripped with venom. "In my experience, the American justice system is one long and noble search for truth . . ."
"They blackmailed him," Sarah said. "Or offered him something. Maybe a job if he recanted."
"Think so? My goodness, that might mean that Evan Pritchard is part of it. Imagine that kind of conduct from an officer of the court."
Sarah drew a breath. "I'll cross-examine . . ."
"No," Lenihan cut in. "They're mine. All of them."
* * *
Arms resting on the table, Lenihan leaned toward Bresler. Though Bresler's face was round, it seemed pinched, his expression miserable. "Prior to today," Lenihan began, "have you discussed this case with anyone from the SSA?"
Evan Pritchard raised a hand, signalling his client not to answer. "Other than attorneys?" he said to Lenihan.
Lenihan gave him a cynical smile. "Let's start there, Mr. Bresler."
Bresler hesitated. "No."
This, Sarah was certain, could not be true. As if reading her thoughts, Lenihan asked, "How did you select Mr. Pritchard to represent you?"
Bresler glanced at Pritchard. Quietly, he said, "I knew of him by reputation."
"You'd never met him?"
"No. Not before this case."
"How did you hear of Mr. Pritchard?"
"I don't recall."
Lenihan's face set. "Isn't it true that the SSA recommended that you hire Mr. Pritchard?"
"No."
"Then who's paying your legal fees?"
"Objection," Pritchard interjected. "Direct not to answer . . ."
"On what basis?" Lenihan snapped.
"Because," Pritchard said in a laconic drawl, "it's outside the scope of discovery. And protected by the attorney-client privilege . . ."
"Outside the scope of discovery?" Lenihan repeated incredulously. "Not if the SSA's paying your fees."
"Same objection," Pritchard said. "Same instruction. Move on."
"Move on to the judge, you mean."
"Fine. Have anything else, Mr. Lenihan, or are we through here?"
Lenihan sat straighter. "Have you," he asked Bresler, "discussed this case with Mr. Fancher or Mr. Nolan?"
Bresler glanced at Pritchard. After a moment, Pritchard nodded. "Yes," Bresler answered tersely.
Lenihan's expression was grim. "With whom, precisely?"
"With both."
"Where, and when?"
"Yesterday. In this room."
"And who paid your expenses to get here?"
"Objection," Pritchard said. "Outside the scope of discovery."
"We didn't object when you asked."
"That's your privilege, counsel. Or your lapse. You can take that to the judge, as well."
Lenihan paused a moment, reining in his temper, and then turned back to Bresler. "What did you discuss with Mr. Nolan and Mr. Fancher?"
In Bresler's liquid eyes, Sarah imagined, there was a look of shame. "My testimony."
"And what did Mr. Fancher and Mr. Nolan say about your testimony?"
"Objection," Nolan interjected. "The substance of our conversation may reflect the legal strategy of counsel and, therefore, is protected from disclosure by the work-product doctrine . . ."
"That's not absolute," Lenihan interjected.
"True. But before you get an answer, the information must be unavailable by any other means." Nolan's faint, annoying smile returned. "My questions today have already elicited the relevant information. You're simply unhappy with the answers—as, apparently, you were upon meeting Mr. Bresler at Sea Ranch. To me, the one enduring mystery is why you listed him as a witness."
Pritchard nodded his agreement. "In light of that," he told Lenihan, "I'm bound to honor Mr. Nolan's request. I'm directing the witness not to answer any substantive questions about his discussions with defense counsel." Abruptly turning to Bresler, he said, "Let's put this to rest, Martin. Did anyone in that meeting ask you to lie, or to change your story?"
"No." Bresler stared at the table. "All Mr. Nolan said was to tell the truth."
There had been several ways, Sarah thought dejectedly, for someone to arrange Bresler's subornation. Nolan and Fancher could have been an active part of it. More likely, even now they only suspected what Sarah thought had happened after she had listed Bresler as a witness: that Dane had suborned Bresler directly, to avoid the exposure of his own perjury, and then directed Bresler to Pritchard—who had arranged to choreograph this recantation with Harrison Fancher and John Nolan.
"The witness's meeting with defense counsel," Lenihan reiterated, "goes to the heart of our case: whether the SSA controlled—and continues to control—the American gun industry and, specifically, Lexington Arms."
Silent until now, Harry Fancher turned a spiteful stare on Lenihan. "You," he spat out, "have brought a complaint against the SSA without any basis in fact. If you didn't know that before now—which I doubt— Mr. Bresler has just explained it to you.
"You can either drop my client from the case, or we'll ask Judge Bond to order your firm and the Kilcannon Center to pay every dime of our expenses. And to refer you and Ms. Dash to the State Bar for your professional misconduct."
With that, Sarah knew, the SSA's trap had shut.
ELE VEN
It had been startling to be called by the First Lady. Calling her felt presumptuous. But Sarah and Lara Costello Kilcannon had formed a partnership, however tentative. And Sarah was desperate.
"Today was a disaster," Sarah reported baldly. "Martin Bresler took back everything he had told us."
"Everything?"
"Yes." Restless, Sarah stood, and walked to her office window. "As of now, we've got nothing on the SSA." She hesitated, and then asked, "Can the President use the antitrust division to investigate them?"
"No." Lara's voice was quiet. "I'm sorry, Sarah. Politically, Kerry just can't do it."
You led me to Bresler, Sarah wanted to retort. But she could not, in fairness, blame Lara for whatever the SSA had done to Martin Bresler. "We're in trouble," Sarah confessed. "Not just our case against the SSA, but against Lexington. Charles Monk couldn't place Bowden at the gun show. Neither can we.
"Lexington claims not to have the records of where they shipped the gun. Under the law, the first sale of any gun has to be made through a licensed dealer—who may well have sold the gun to whoever resold it to John Bowden. We need to find that person, and we're absolutely stymied."
Lara was silent. At length, she asked, "And you think Kerry can help?"
"I don't know," Sarah acknowledged. "But I was hoping the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms might be able to find out something. At least we have a serial number, and tracing crime guns is part of what they do." Pausing, she gazed out at the scattered lights of the South of Market area, the bare streets and low-rise buildings surrounding the Kilcannon Center. "If we can't prove that Bowden bought the P-2 at a gun show," she finished, "we also can't prove—to a legal certainty—that Lexington and the SSA caused the murder of your family."
This time, Lara's silence stretched far longer. "Thank you," she said at last. "For telling me, and for everything you've done. I'll do the best I can to help you."
* * *
"Tell me about Leo Weller," Kerry asked.
Clayton smiled grimly. "It's even worse than we thought. For Leo, that is. And for quite a few of his constituents.
"The problem is a vermiculite mine in Libby, Montana. Vermiculite is a material used to make pottery . . ."
Balance of Power Page 43