Protect and Defend (65 page)

Turning, Gage observed Kate Jarman, watching the screen as though her political life depended on it.

“
For twenty-seven years
,” the President continued, “
she kept her word
.

“
She protected her daughter and the adoptive family
.

“
When I considered her for the Court, Judge Masters made it clear that if damaging her daughter and her family was the price of being Chief Justice, she would not pay it
.

“
I could not quarrel with that. Nor can I quarrel with the choices made by Caroline Masters and her daughter’s adoptive parents
.

“
I have met that daughter. She is an intelligent and accomplished twenty-seven-year-old woman
.” The softness left Kilcannon’s voice. “
And she is a compelling argument for the virtues of adoption, which Caroline Masters’s chief opponents assert so often but which she herself has lived …
”

“So now she’s a pro-lifer,” Gage observed. “Amazing.”

“It’s shameless,” Harshman snorted with contempt. “He’s going to trot out the daughter, the new poster girl for adoption …”

“
And now, within hours of this painful disclosure, Senator Gage asserts that her daughter’s very existence disqualifies Judge Masters. I can only assume that Senator Gage is not referring to Caroline Masters’s courage in preserving her child’s life, and then giving her up—since, as the Senator invariably points out, he, too, is adopted …
”

“Kerry,” Gage said quietly, “you truly know how to hurt a fellow …”

“
Perhaps
,” Kilcannon continued “
he believes that Caroline Masters is disqualified because, twenty-seven years ago, she made the same mistake many young people make
.” Here the President paused, his voice taking on an ironic lilt. “
To Senator Gage and his allies I say this: a mistake-free life is not a prerequisite for public office. And if Caroline Masters’s opponents claim that it is, they present the Senate with a choice—between her grace and dignity, and their sanctimony and hypocrisy …
”

Kate Jarman turned from the screen. Dryly she said, “What do you think, Mac? Sound like a toss-up to you?”

“She’s a
liar
,” Harshman interjected. “That’s the whole point.”

“
There are those
,” the President continued, “
who assert that Caroline Masters misled them. Why? Because, despite having told the legal and literal truth, they claim she owed it to them to break her promise and wound her family by disclosing in public the private details of this young woman’s life
.

“
Instead
,” the President said firmly, “
she disclosed them to me
.

“
I concluded that her debt was to her family, and no one else. So I stand with Senator Palmer: if there’s anyone to blame, blame me …
”

“Of course,” Harshman said. “Use your pal Chad for cover. He
likes
that.”

“
For my part
,” the President continued, “
I am proud of this nomination—of the person who protected one young woman from the moment of conception, of the judge who protected another at risk to her own ambitions. Her performance in the
Tierney case reflects the highest traditions of the law, and the deepest values of her life. No president can ask for more
.

“
Nor, I believe, can you
.

“
You, I
know,
are better than those who—through smear and innuendo, through degrading rather than disagreeing— would take the low road to power. You, not they, represent a country which is tolerant in spirit, generous in understanding, and gracious in forgiveness. And, always, willing to value a person for the whole of who she is …
”

No, Gage thought to himself; it would not be easy. Ahead were days of close maneuvers, a fight for every vote. Kilcannon saw the stakes as Gage did, and was determined to break his control; Gage was facing a politician of considerable gifts, not the least of which was ruthlessness.

“
So I ask the Senate
,” he concluded, “
to confirm Caroline Masters as Chief Justice. And if you join me in that effort, it will
.”

“Will we, now,” Gage murmured. But Kate Jarman did not look at him.

T
HE NEXT
twelve hours, Gage reflected, were a sobering reminder of the power of the presidency.

By the time Mace Taylor came to his office for rolls and coffee, an overnight poll by CNN-Time showed that, among the estimated fifty million adults who had watched Kilcannon’s speech, forty-two percent favored Caroline Masters’s confirmation, with thirty-three percent against, and the balance—a significant twenty-five percent—undecided. Some quick calls to his whip and a few key senators suggested that Kilcannon had succeeded in freezing votes in place: though Gage’s best estimate was that he had forty-one votes, he did
not yet know where the next nine or ten were coming from. And of the Senate Democrats, though some from border states and the South were inclined to opposition, none had publicly broken with their president.

“The forty-one against,” Gage told Taylor, “are solid. But some of them won’t support a filibuster. So I can’t just shut her down, and calling a vote is risky.

“Kilcannon knows that. The longer this goes on, the more support he can try to build: women’s rallies, rooms full of adopted kids—hell, I bet he’s got Barbara Walters lined up to interview the daughter. An exercise in lacrimation.” Gage spread his hands in frustration. “In the age of confessions, there’s no underrating the bad taste of the American people. I can imagine Masters and the daughter’s newly proud dad reunited on Jerry Springer. Whoever
he
might be.”

With a surprising fastidiousness, Taylor pursed his lips to sip coffee from Gage’s china, displaying starched French cuffs and silver cuff links. “The father,” he said. “
That’s
the only detail Kilcannon spared us—we’re not even sure if it was a man, or a turkey baster.”

“They’re not saying,” Gage responded. “It’s ‘private.’ But someone has to know.”

“We’ll try to find out—just in case the guy dropped LSD with her when she was pregnant.” Taylor put down the cup. “All we know is she was dating Watts in college, and no one ever saw her using drugs, or holding hands with another girl. Sort of makes you wonder how we could miss a baby.”

“It does,” Gage said pointedly. “It surely does.”

Taylor looked up at him. “Don’t blame us, Mac. Blame Palmer. You’ve gone too easy on him.” His voice lowered, an implied warning. “I know you’ve heard from folks like Barry Saunders. They want this lady gone, and they don’t want Kilcannon rolling us. Seems to me like it’s gut-check time. For you, and for Palmer.”

One by one, Gage felt his options closing. He could not yet call a vote, and time might be his enemy. He did not have Kilcannon’s platform, or his talent for swaying the public mood. And the Tierney case was heading to its conclusion—which, in the worst case, might reveal that the fetus had no cerebral cortex, and no prayer of ever living.

“I have a plan,” Gage said. “One way or the other, Palmer will see the light.”

“We need more hearings,” Paul Harshman told his colleagues.

All fifty-five Republicans were gathered in the Old Senate Chamber, an ornate amphitheater suited to their numbers. But the reactions of most interest to Macdonald Gage were those of Chad Palmer and Kate Jarman, bellwethers of party moderates.

“We have a woman,” Harshman continued, “whose latest and greatest ruling is pro-abortion, whose personal life is dubious, whose ethics are in question, and who—skip the fancy words—lied to us about all of that.

“
‘Oh, no,’
” he said in mocking imitation of Masters, “
‘I’ve got an open mind. Sarah Dash is nothing to me. Oh, and isn’t my niece just lovely.’
” His voice filled with scorn, he gazed at Palmer, “And we just lapped it up …”

“No,” Chad Palmer interjected pleasantly. “
I
did. You, Paul, were on the cutting edge. I can only regret my folly, and wonder what might have been.”

With Harshman, Gage reflected, Chad could not seem to help himself. Though a few of their colleagues smiled, Harsh-man’s bony frame seemed to twist in indignation. “You may find promiscuity and lying funny, Senator. I can assure you my constituents do not.

“There are fifty-five of us in this chamber. I think you’ll find that the great majority want to reopen our committee’s hearings—in great measure because of what the nominee,
and
you, chose not to ‘share’ with us.”

Chad shrugged. “You’ve heard my reasons. All of us know how ugly politics has gotten. We can sit here in this hermetically sealed room sounding righteous, but it seems like a lot of the country agreed with Kilcannon’s speech—at least about privacy. If we react like lemmings to whatever interest groups want her head on a platter, they may get sick of us all.” Pausing, he looked around him. “Do we really think the public wants a spectacle—”

“They want the truth,” Harshman interrupted. “In these morally equivocal times, perjury may not seem important to
some
of us, even perjury by a nominee for Chief Justice.
But the core of our supporters, thank God, retain their moral bearings.”

Palmer rolled his eyes. For a dead man, Gage thought, he looked remarkably unrepentant, and this concerned him—for some of his colleagues, Chad’s devil-may-care persona held a certain charm.

“I think you’ll find,” Gage interposed, “that you’re both in agreement on the bottom line—Caroline Masters has to go. Chad feels his responsibilities
there
as keenly as anyone.”

The remark, intended to remind Palmer of his lapse, clearly struck its target: as often when cornered, Chad Palmer’s eyes grew hooded, as though to conceal his resentment.

Walking to the front of the room, Gage thrust his hands in his pockets, speaking with studied solemnity. “This is that rare moment,” he began, “when a vote has constitutional significance. The President has challenged us.
Each
of us has to decide how we value unborn life, how we value truth, how we value the Court, and how we value ourselves as senators.

“The vote on Masters must be a vote of conscience. We’re facing an opponent who is castigating us before we’ve even voted. So I don’t want to add to your burdens with pressures of my own.”

Pausing, Gage surveyed the blank faces of politicians who, while appearing to accept this piety, knew better: they knew the stakes for Gage and Palmer, and the infinite variety of ways—from bad committee assignments to pet bills which died without a vote—through which Gage could punish them without a word. Kate Jarman, her head back, seemed to smile at the ornate ceiling.

“But Paul’s right,” Gage went on. “Process is important, and many unanswered questions have arisen since the committee recommended we confirm her. Our constitutional obligation is to probe these issues thoroughly.” Pacing, Gage spoke more rapidly. “Two months ago Kerry Kilcannon was one of us. He was elected President by a sliver. The voters didn’t make him some demigod we suddenly should bow and scrape to. Many of our constituents expect us to control his excesses, as is our
duty
.

“Will we abandon our pro-life principles? Will we shrink from raising questions of character because Caroline Masters is a woman?” Turning to Chad, Gage spoke quietly. “If we do,
we’ll be complicit in a cover-up, even if we were never privy to it.”

This remark, a thinly veiled reference to Chad’s protection of the nominee, induced from Chad a faint but defiant smile. “Whatever we do,” Gage went on, “we should do it as a united party. That’s why I called this meeting—to see where we stand on new hearings. Because if most of us want them, but can’t get them through the Senate, we’d look pitiful indeed.”

For this, Gage believed, he had the votes. So, apparently, did Chad: that he understood the true purpose of this exercise was apparent in the skeptical gaze he focused on Macdonald Gage. “Mr. Chairman,” Gage said to him, “any thoughts? After all, the hearings would be yours to run.”

Chad smiled again. “Not if I can help it.” He turned to the others, eyes sweeping the room. “I’ve got no illusions about the sentiments here, or the pressures we all feel. Despite,” he added wryly, “Mac’s best efforts to spare us.

“I don’t doubt, either, that some of you question my judgment regarding Caroline Masters. I respect that, and I suppose I’ll have to live with it.

“What I’m not sure any of us can live with are more hearings.” He glanced at Harshman. “Paul and I have had the pleasure of meeting Caroline Masters at first hand. But we seem to have different perceptions of that experience.

“What I saw is a woman who’s very resourceful, and extremely clever. What she isn’t, always, is sympathetic.” His tone turned dry. “But we have it in our power to fix
that
.

“If we start pounding her about protecting her daughter, or—frankly—implying that she’s lesbian, she’s smart enough to kill us, and savvy enough to do it in a way that makes the public glad she did. And
then
we’d have to go to the Senate, and try to vote her down.” Chad’s voice rose. “Better to do it now. It’s one thing to vote against her. It’s another to make her a martyr. Remember how we looked after Anita Hill? Masters and Kilcannon will make that look like a stroll in the park.

“We’ve all read the Tierney decision. We all know about the daughter now. We
always
knew Dash clerked for her. What else do we need to know?

“Time won’t make this better. And the resolution of the Tierney case—in brutal fact—may well make it worse.” Once more, Chad turned to Gage. “You’ve got my vote against her,
Mac. Round up the remaining votes you need, and bring her to the floor.”

Nettled, Gage felt the others divining a truth they had only suspected—he did not yet have the votes to defeat the nominee. “I’m not convinced,” Gage answered, “that new hearings will make Caroline Masters more—rather than less—attractive. And the time they’d take has virtues of its own. Vote now, and we look peremptory. After more deliberations, we’re statesmen.” He smiled at Kate Jarman, whose indecision was obvious. “And -women.”