Protect and Defend

by Richard North Patterson

  “The funeral,” Kate Jarman interjected tartly, “is Kyle Palmer’s.”

  “Which I had nothing to do with.” Gage bit off his words. “Where’s your spine, Kate? Kilcannon’s smearing us …”

  “He’s smearing you.” This time it was Harshman. “As did Palmer, to considerable effect.”

  “Palmer,” Gage snapped. “He talks about the ‘cycle of destruction,’ while he and Kilcannon conspire to destroy us. That’s the only ‘conspiracy,’ and all of us have to stand up to it.”

  “Define ‘us.’” Leo Weller’s voice was melancholy but reasoned. “I’m sure you’re right, Mac—Kilcannon’s taken your relationship to Taylor, and twisted it. But that worries folks nonetheless.

  “Taylor represents a lot of people who’re important to us, from the Christian Commitment to the pro-gun folks. Somehow, some way, he funds private investigations that maybe—out of anyone’s sight—have crossed a few lines.” Weller glanced at Harshman. “Paul’s been hearing from our base—political and financial. They don’t want Taylor leaned on. They don’t want to be tarred with whatever he’s done. They want this to go away.”

  “Speaking of our ‘base,’” Kate Jarman said with some distaste, “there’s another group I wish were part of it—suburban women. They don’t like us on abortion, and they don’t like us on guns.

  “How to put this delicately, Mac. To be seen as destroying the daughter of one of our own, over a legal abortion which should have been private, is not a positive development.”

  She blamed him, Gage thought angrily. Still composed, he said to Harshman, “We took a stand on principle.”

  “Against abortion,” Harshman said sternly. “Against liberalism, license, and lying. After Kyle Palmer’s death, all of that got lost.”

  Weller summoned his avuncular air. “It may be unfair. But this particular dead mouse, my friend, is lying on your kitchen floor. Folks don’t want Taylor indicted.”

  “What can I do about that?”

  With this, the others looked to Weller.

  “Resign,” Weller said at last. His tone was quiet, reluctant. “It’s a lot to ask, and all of us hate to ask it. But you don’t have the votes to stay.”

  “And it’s for the good of the party, Mac. We believe if you go now, Kilcannon may back off the rest.”

  So that was it, Gage realized. They had talked to Kerry Kilcannon—or, more likely, Clayton Slade. You almost had to laugh.

  The little bastard had gotten him.

  The next morning, Senator Macdonald Gage’s press secretary released a short statement, again deploring the death of Kyle Palmer, denying any involvement in the events preceding it, and resigning as Majority Leader for the sake of the party he held dear.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  ON THE morning she was to be sworn in as Chief Justice, Caroline Masters and her daughter had breakfast in Caroline’s suite at the Hay-Adams.

  Later, Jackson Watts would join them, and Blair Montgomery. But both women wanted these few moments alone.

  “Two months ago,” Caroline said, “I never imagined any of this.”

  Brett tilted her head, with the questioning, faintly challenging look that Caroline recalled as her mother Nicole’s. Quietly, Caroline told her, “I’ve worried most for you.”

  With veiled eyes, Brett seemed to regard her coffee cup. “Sometimes, Caroline, I have to remind myself who I am. That’s the oddest part—not being exactly who you think you are.” When she looked up, her smile was quizzical. “The other funny thing is that I have a piece of you I didn’t have before. I feel this irrational pride, like I had something to do with who you are.”

  “You did,” Caroline answered. “You do.” She hesitated, trying to express what she felt. “I’d look at you, and be so grateful I’d chosen as I did. But it was so painful not to tell you. Now I can.”

  Looking down again, Brett slowly reached across the table and took her mother’s hand. Feeling the light pressure on her fingertips, Caroline closed her eyes.

  Soon, they would leave for the White House; after that, Caroline would enter the world of the Supreme Court, so powerful and so little understood. But now, at last, her past had caught up with her present. It was this she would remember most.

  CNN was carrying the event from the East Room, confident of an audience assured by all the controversy—personal and political—surrounding the confirmation of Caroline Masters.

  But Chad Palmer did not watch. The President had invited him; he could not imagine going. He had done his part and now, undistracted, felt overwhelmed by the ugly and enormous fact that his daughter was gone forever. There were no second chances, even to say good-bye.

  Sitting in the breakfast room, he heard his wife behind him, and looked up.

  She looked pale and faraway; her waking and sleeping were erratic, and she seemed even more detached from the world than he. It reminded him of a harsh reality; however great his loss of Kyle, Allie’s was greater. The loss unique to him was a public career turned to ashes in his mouth. And that career, he guessed, and his commitment to it, were a focus of Allie’s grief and anger.

  “Sit with me,” he requested.

  Allie did that, clutching the robe at her throat, as if to protect herself from a cold she only imagined. Wordless, she gazed at the Washington Post in front of him, its headline declaring “Gage Steps Down as Majority Leader.”

  Macdonald Gage was feeling at first hand, Chad supposed, the vertiginous swiftness with which a life’s ambition can be lost. That Chad found this of minimal satisfaction did not surprise him; no misery on Gage’s part could resurrect Kyle Palmer, or heal Allie’s wounds. But a kind of justice had been done, with the President’s assistance, and Chad and Allie had been spared the poisonous ordeal of watching Gage transcend—even profit by—Kyle’s death. For that much he must try to be grateful.

  Allie looked up from the newspaper; for the first time since their loss, she seemed to see him. “What will you do now?” she asked.

  He considered his answer; the loss of a child, he knew, had ended marriages in far less tragic circumstances.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “For now, just be with you, alone.” He touched her face with curled fingers. “You’re precious to me, Allie. I don’t want anything more to happen to us.”

  Head bent, she was quiet for a very long time. “You were a great senator,” she said at last.

  For whatever that’s worth to me now, Chad thought. But perhaps it would mean something in years to come; for better or worse, he had helped make Caroline Masters Chief Justice.

  “Yes,” he answered. “I was.”

  Sitting between Lara and Caroline Masters in the East Room, President Kerry Kilcannon watched Ellen Penn begin her words of welcome. Ellen had earned the right, Kerry thought, and it gave him a few moments to reflect.

  He had been President for two months and seven days.

  So much had happened—much by design, and some by chance. He was the agent of Macdonald Gage’s destruction. But he would not waste time on this. Gage himself had set events in motion; what had happened to him, a kind of moral recompense, was all too rare in politics. That this had shifted the balance of power in Kerry’s favor made it all the better.

  As a rival for Kerry, let alone a potential president, Macdonald Gage was through. And so, for very different reasons, was Chad Palmer. The fact that Kerry had triggered Chad’s eclipse by inadvertence, and only to protect Caroline Masters, did not entirely salve his conscience.

  But Chad’s end as a candidate in waiting, Kerry must acknowledge, also served his interests; two months into his presidency, by luck or calculation, his two leading rivals had vanished in an instant. And there still was much that Chad could do. This afternoon Kerry would visit him, to do what little he could to help Chad heal, and to persuade him to remain a senator. If not, in time Kerry and the country would have need of Chad again; a president would always need good people, and there are never enough.

  Glanci
ng at Caroline Masters, he absorbed once more the fact that he had won.

  But what, exactly?

  A fine Chief Justice, certainly. More sway in Congress. The growing belief, never to be undervalued, that Kerry Kilcannon was a president to respect, even fear.

  And at what cost?

  The deals were easy enough to tally, the human cost far harder to calculate. The world he lived in was ambiguous, a dance of light and shadow, and all the more so for a president. He had used his power to destroy Macdonald Gage; though some might bristle, he had used it openly, in the light of day and subject to judicial review. And though he had used Chad Palmer to further his own ends, Chad had always known this; both had acted as their circumstances, and their natures, demanded—even at the most terrible moments of Chad’s grief. As for the many other turning points, fateful in their own way, Kerry had done the best he could. He must learn to be at peace with his decisions, as he was with the results.

  In moments, Judge Caroline Masters would become Chief Justice of the United States.

  Her daughter sat beside her, with Judge Montgomery from the Ninth Circuit, and her friend Judge Jackson Watts. Sarah Dash, of course, was absent. But Kerry knew that she and Caroline Masters had spoken, and whatever had been said between them seemed to give Caroline pleasure.

  He touched Lara’s hand. Briefly, Lara smiled at him, and then Ellen Penn invited Judge Masters to the podium.

  She stood, tall and commanding, but humble in speech—a few simple words of gratitude, a pledge to serve the law and her fellow citizens as well as she could, and to bring a new spirit of collegiality to the Court which she would lead.

  A great ambition, Kerry thought, for a nominee who had been so badly damaged. But she had the talent and the will, and years to make it so.

  Smiling, Kerry stepped forward to stand beside Ellen Penn.

  A Bible rested on the podium. Placing her hand there, Caroline met his eyes with a small, faintly ironic smile. Perhaps she was thinking, as Kerry was, of the cost; perhaps of the truth of Chad Palmer’s favorite maxim, “There are worse things in life than losing an election.” Whatever her thoughts, the President knew, they both felt a mixture of regret, sadness, satisfaction, and, in the end, pride at the path they had undertaken together, and that it had led them here.

  After this, he would turn, strengthened, to countless other tests, and she would take up her role in another branch of government, far from Kerry’s, shaping the law in ways that would touch the lives of others long after they both were gone. But this was a moment to be savored, and shared.

  “Ready?” Kerry murmured.

  Solemn now, Caroline nodded. Then she drew a breath, and began repeating after the Vice President:

  “I, Caroline Clark Masters …”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  WHEN I FIRST conceived Protect and Defend, I realized that it required me to grasp a number of complex subjects, among them the politics of a bitter Supreme Court confirmation fight; the workings of the legal system in a case like Mary Ann Tierney’s; the fascinating but often arcane machinations of the United States Senate; the legal, moral, and medical issues arising from late-term abortion and the parental consent laws; the dissemination of private conduct through the media to destroy public careers; and the increasing influence of money on our politics. No one person understands all this; certainly—though I’m a former courtroom lawyer who observes politics quite closely—I do not.

  This made my research both challenging and rewarding; those with expertise in the numerous facets of this story were generous beyond my expectations. At a minimum, I should discharge my debt by absolving them of blame for any error or biases: all mistakes are mine, and the opinions of any characters are my inventions. In particular, the various political figures who helped me should not be understood as endorsing this book or approving one or another of the often conflicting viewpoints expressed herein.

  Having established that the buck stops with me, I’m deeply grateful to all those who made it possible for me to write Protect and Defend:

  Rich Bond, Mark Childress, Sean Clegg, Ken Duberstein, John Gomperts, C. Boyden Gray, Mandy Grunwald, Harold Ickes, Joel Klein, Peter Knight, Tom Korologos, Mark Paoletta, and Ace Smith all enhanced my understanding of the process and politics of a Supreme Court nomination. The late Dan Dutko and my dear friend Ron Kaufman not only advised me, but introduced me to others who also helped. Another old friend, President George Bush, was kind enough to comment on the nomination process, and a new friend, Bruce Lindsey, was more generous with his time than I could have hoped. And special thanks to President Bill Clinton, who shared his thoughts, and opened doors.

  The United States Senate is a place all its own. My guides included Senator Barbara Boxer, who has fought so hard and so well to bring to light the experiences of women facing late-term abortion, and Senator Bob Dole, by common consensus one of our greatest Senate Majority Leaders. Mathew Baumgart and Diana Huffman gave incisive advice on both substance and procedure. Particularly generous was Mark Gitenstein; I also profited from reading Mark’s absorbing study of the Bork nomination, Matters of Principle.

  There are many facets to any balanced consideration of late-term abortion and the parental consent laws—medical, psychological, ethical, and personal. I am deeply indebted to Claudia Ades, Dr. Nancy Adler, Coreen Costello, Dr. Philip Darney, Dr. Jim Goldberg, Dr. Laurie Green, Erik Parens, and Dr. Laurie Zaben. Central, as well, was a paper written by Erik Parens and Adrienne Asch for the Hastings Center, treating the ethical implications of genetic testing with respect to disability. And special thanks to Dr. Robert Bitonte for all of his time, help, and concern.

  Three advocates for the pro-choice movement were kind enough to share their political and philosophical perspectives—Maureen Britell, Judith Lichtman, and Kate Michelman. Several lawyers who represented that perspective in landmark cases were equally helpful: many thanks to Janet Benshoof, Joanne Hustead, Beth Parker, Lori Schecter and, especially, Margaret Crosby. My reading also profited by a survey of pro-choice writings from NARAL, Professor Nadine Strossen, and others.

  To my regret, representatives of two leading pro-life groups declined to meet with me; the novel, I am sure, is poorer for it. Therefore, I’m particularly grateful to Robert Melnick, who has represented the pro-life perspective in several important cases, for lending his advice. Douglas Johnson of the National Right to Life Committee also forwarded some materials. Beyond that, I read extensively to deepen my understanding of the likely pro-life perspective in a case such as that of Mary Ann Tierney: particularly helpful were the Parens-Asch paper, Cynthia Gorney’s fine book Articles of Faith, and Lucinda Franks’s New Yorker article, “Wonder Kid,” as well as a survey of pro-life literature.

  Much harder to obtain is an in-depth understanding of judicial procedures and perspectives, and the scope and issues involved on appeal. Thanks to Judges Maxine Chesney and my perceptive friend Judge Thelton Henderson, both of the United States District Court; Judge Robert Henry of the United States Court of Appeals for the Tenth Circuit; former New York State Appellate Judge Milton Mollen; and former Judge Sol Wachtler, Chief Justice of New York’s highest court—to whom I’m also indebted for sending me the droll opinion in Pierce v. Delamater. Special thanks go to Judge Stephen Reinhardt of the United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit for his interest and advice.

  Some wonderful lawyers and law professors further helped me frame the issues, and plot the course of the Tierney case: Erwin Chemerinsky, Leslie Landau, Stacey Leyton, Deirdre Von Dornum, and, especially, Alan Dershowitz. In preparation, I devoted many hours to a study of the case law; with allowances for a lay audience, I have tried to accurately portray the legal issues and their possible resolution. Here, I should note a change for narrative purposes: unlike most state courts, in the wake of the Simpson case the federal courts imposed a ban on television. But my guess is that this ban will not last, and my novel, set in the future, so provides.

 
There are times when characterization requires more than the exercise of sheer imagination. With his military background, including the impact of kidnapping and imprisonment, Senator Chad Palmer is such a case. Many thanks to those who helped make Chad Palmer who he is: my fellow novelist and valued friend Secretary of Defense William Cohen, NATO Commander General Joseph Ralston, Air Force Vice Chief of Staff General Ed Eberhardt, Colonel Ron Rand, Colonel Bob Stice, Colonel Rowdy Yates, Major J. C. Connors, Larry Benson, Dick Hallion, my cousin Bill Patterson, and my friend Bob Tyrer. I am particularly privileged to have spent time with two former prisoners of war, whose experiences were critical: General Charles Boyd, USAF (Ret.), and Colonel Norman McDaniel, USAF (Ret.).

  Finally, others helped me fill in the gaps. Assistant District Attorney Al Giannini introduced me to ninhydrin, Mason Taylor’s undoing; Drs. Ken Gottlieb and Rodney Shapiro assisted in shaping Kyle Palmer and Mary Ann Tierney; and Editor in Chief David Talbot of Salon magazine helped me think through the journalistic issues raised by Kyle’s past, although for himself David might well have concluded that there were sufficient grounds to preserve Kyle’s privacy. And literature published by Common Cause, the preeminent public interest lobby, helped provide the background for certain observations about money in politics, as did a reading of the case law on that subject.

  One of the needs of any novelist is to share the madness. My talented assistant, Alison Porter Thomas, outdid herself on this book: her detailed, perceptive, and sometimes just plain persistent editorial comments challenged me daily to do better—and, thanks to Alison, every day I did. To give me a further overview I relied on my friend and agent, Fred Hill; my dear friends Anna Chavez and Philip Rotner; and my partner in life, Laurie Patterson. And my splendid publishers, Sonny Mehta and Gina Centrello, not only overcame their initial reservations about the concept of this book, but endorsed the finished novel with an enthusiasm which was both heartening and affirming. All have my warmest thanks.