She shook her head and held her words. Twenty-four hours earlier she'd been eating lunch with her boyfriend at a sidewalk cafe in San Francisco. Now, she wasn't sure where she was.
'Don't condemn me for this, Carmen. These are desperate hours.'
'Okay,' she said, and headed down the stairs.
The Governor and the young lawyer were alone in the vast office, in the comfortable leather chairs, their legs crossed and feet almost touching. Goodman was rushing Carmen to the airport to catch a flight. Mona Stark was nowhere in sight.
'It's strange, you know, you're the grandson, and you've known him for less than a month.' McAllister's words were calm, almost tired. 'But I've known him for many years. In fact, he's been a part of my life for a long time. And I've always thought that I'd look forward to this day. I've wanted him to die, you know, to be punished for killing those boys.' He flipped his bangs and gently rubbed his eyes. His words were so genuine, as if two old friends were catching up on the gossip. 'But now I'm not so sure. I have to tell you, Adam, the pressure's getting to me.'
He was either being brutally honest, or he was a talented actor. Adam couldn't tell. 'What will the state prove if Sam dies?' Adam asked. 'Will this be a better place to live when the sun comes up Wednesday morning and he's dead?'
'No. But then you don't believe in the death penalty. I do.'
'Why?'
'Because there has to be an ultimate punishment for murder. Put yourself in Ruth Kramer's position, and you'd feel differently. The problem you have, Adam, and people like you, is that you forget about the victims.'
'We could argue for hours about the death penalty.'
'You're right. Let's skip it. Has Sam told you anything new about the bombing?'
'I can't divulge what Sam's told me. But the answer is no.'
'Maybe he acted alone, I don't know.'
'What difference would it make today, the day before the execution?'
'I'm not sure, to be honest. But if I knew that Sam was only an accomplice, that someone else was responsible for the killings, then it would be impossible for me to allow him to be executed. I could stop it, you know. I could do that. I'd catch hell for it. It would hurt me politically. The damage could be irreparable, but I wouldn't mind. I'm getting tired of politics. And I don't enjoy being placed in this position, the giver or taker of life. But I could pardon Sam, if I knew the truth.'
'You believe he had help. You've told me that already. The FBI agent in charge of the investigation believes it too. Why don't you act on your beliefs and grant clemency?'
'Because we're not certain.'
'So, one word from Sam, just one name thrown out here in the final hours, and, bingo, you take your pen and save his life?'
'No, but I might grant a reprieve so the name could be investigated.'
'It won't happen, Governor. I've tried. I've asked so often, and he's denied so much, that it's not even discussed anymore.'
'Who's he protecting?'
'Hell if I know.'
'Perhaps we're wrong. Has he ever given you the details of the bombing?'
'Again, I can't talk about our conversations. But he takes full responsibility for it.'
'Then why should I consider clemency? If the criminal himself claims he did the crime, and acted alone, how am I supposed to help him?'
'Help him because he's an old man who'll die soon enough anyway. Help him because it's the right thing to do, and deep down in your heart you want to do it. It'll take guts.'
'He hates me, doesn't he?'
'Yes. But he could come around. Give him a pardon and he'll be your biggest fan.'
McAllister smiled and unwrapped a peppermint. 'Is he really insane?'
'Our expert says he is. We'll do our best to convince judge Slattery.'
'I know, but really? You've spent hours with him. Does he know what's happening?'
At this point, Adam decided against honesty. McAllister was not a friend, and not at all trustworthy. 'He's pretty sad,' Adam admitted. 'Frankly, I'm surprised any person can keep his mind after a few months on death row. Sam was an old man when he got there, and he's slowly wasted away. That's one reason he's declined all interviews. He's quite pitiful.'
Adam couldn't tell if the governor believed this, but he certainly absorbed it.
'What's your schedule tomorrow?' McAllister asked.
'I have no idea. It depends on what happens in Slattery's court. I had planned to spend most of the day with Sam, but I might be running around filing last minute appeals.'
'I gave you my private number. Let's keep in touch tomorrow.'
Sam took three bites of pinto beans and some of the corn bread, then placed the tray at the end of his bed. The same idiot guard with the blank face watched him through the bars of the tier door. Life was bad enough in these cramped cubicles, but living like an animal and being watched was unbearable.
It was six o'clock, time for the evening news. He was anxious to hear what the world was saying about him. The Jackson station began with the breaking story of a last minute hearing before federal judge F. Flynn Slattery. The report cut to the outside of the federal courthouse in Jackson where an anxious young man with a microphone explained that the hearing had been delayed a bit as the lawyers wrangled in Slattery's office. He tried his best to briefly explain the issue. The defense was now claiming that Mr. Cayhall lacked sufficient mental capacity to understand why he was being executed. He was senile and insane, claimed the defense, which would call a noted psychiatrist in this last ditch effort to stop the execution. The hearing was expected to get under way at any moment, and no one knew when a decision might be reached by judge Slattery. Back to the anchorwoman, who said that, meanwhile, up at the state penitentiary at Parchman, all systems were go for the execution. Another young man with a microphone was suddenly on the screen, standing somewhere near the front gate of the prison, describing the increased security. He pointed to his right, and the camera panned the area near the highway where a regular carnival was happening. The highway patrol was out in force, directing traffic and keeping a wary eye on an assemblage of several dozen Ku Klux Klansmen. Other protestors included various groups of white supremacists and the usual death penalty abolitionists, he said.
The camera swung back to the reporter, who now had with him Colonel George Nugent, acting superintendent for Parchman, and the man in charge of the execution. Nugent grimly answered a few questions, said things were very much under control, and if the courts gave the green light then the execution would be carried out according to the law.
Sam turned off the television. Adam had called two hours earlier and explained the hearing, so he was prepared to hear that he was senile and insane and God knows what else. Still, he didn't like it. It was bad enough waiting to be executed, but to have his sanity slandered so nonchalantly seemed like a cruel invasion of privacy.
The tier was hot and quiet. The televisions and radios were turned down. Next door, Preacher Boy softly sang `The Old Rugged Cross', and it was not unpleasant.
In a neat pile on the floor against the wall was his new outfit - a plain white cotton shirt, Dickies, white socks, and a pair of brown loafers. Donnie had spent an hour with him during the afternoon.
He turned off the light and relaxed on the bed. Thirty hours to live.
The main courtroom in the federal building was packed when Slattery finally released the lawyers from his chamber for the third time. It was the last of a series of heated conferences that had dragged on for most of the afternoon. It was now almost seven.
They filed into the courtroom and took their places behind the appropriate tables. Adam sat with Garner Goodman. In a row of chairs behind them were Hez Kerry, John Bryan Glass, and three of his law students. Roxburgh, Morris Henry, and a half dozen assistants crowded around the state's table. Two rows behind them, behind the bar, sat the governor with Mona Stark on one side and Larramore on the other.
The rest of the crowd was primarily reporters - no cameras were allowed. There were curious spectators, law students, other lawyers. It was open to the public. In the back row, dressed comfortably in a sports coat and
