Roxburgh.
'Do you know Sam Cayhall?' Roxburgh asked.
'I do.'
'Have you counseled him recently?'
'Yes.'
'When did you last see him?'
'Yesterday. Sunday.'
'And how would you describe his mental state?'
'I can't.'
'I beg your pardon.'
'I said I can't describe his mental condition.'
'Why not?'
'Because right now I'm his minister, and anything he says or does in my presence is strictly confidential. I can't testify against Mr. Cayhall.'
Roxburgh stalled for a moment, trying to decide what to do next. It was obvious neither he nor his learned underlings had given any thought to this situation. Perhaps they'd just assumed that since the chaplain was working for the state, then he'd cooperate with them.
Griffin waited expectantly for an assault from Roxburgh.
Slattery settled the matter quickly. 'A very good point, Mr. Roxburgh. This witness should not be here. Who's next?'
'No further witnesses,' the Attorney General said, anxious to leave the podium and get to his seat.
His Honor scribbled some notes at length, then looked at the crowded courtroom. 'I will take this matter under advisement and render an opinion, probably early in the morning. As soon as my decision is ready, we will notify the attorneys. You don't need to hang around here. We'll call you. Court's adjourned.'
Everyone stood and hurried for the rear doors. Adam caught the Reverend Ralph Griffin and thanked him, then he returned to the table where Goodman, Hez Kerry, Professor Glass, and the students were waiting. They huddled and whispered until the crowd was gone, then left the courtroom. Someone mentioned drinks and dinner. It was almost nine.
Reporters were waiting outside the door to the courtroom. Adam threw out a few polite nocomments and kept walking. Rollie Wedge eased behind Adam and Goodman as they inched through the crowded hallway. He vanished as they left the building.
Two groups of cameras were ready outside. On the front steps, Roxburgh was addressing one batch of reporters, and not far away on the sidewalk, the governor was holding forth. As Adam walked by, he heard McAllister say that clemency was being considered, and that it would be a long night. Tomorrow would be even tougher. Would he attend the execution? someone asked. Adam couldn't hear the reply.
They met at Hal and Mal's, a popular downtown restaurant and watering hole. Hez found a large table in a corner near the front and ordered a round of beer. A blues band was cranked up in the back. The dining room and bar were crowded.
Adam sat in a corner, next to Hez, and relaxed for the first time in hours. The beer went down fast and calmed him. They ordered red beans and rice, and chatted about the hearing. Hez said he'd performed wonderfully, and the law students were full of compliments. The mood was optimistic. Adam thanked them for their help. Goodman and Glass were at the far end of the table, lost in a conversation about another death row case. Time passed slowly, and Adam attacked his dinner when it arrived.
'This is probably not a good time to bring this up,' Hez said out of the corner of his mouth. He wanted no one to hear but Adam. The band was even louder now.
'I guess you'll go back to Chicago when this is over,' he said, looking at Goodman to make sure he was still engaged with Glass.
'I guess so,' Adam said, without conviction. He'd had little time to think past tomorrow.
'Well, just so you'll know, there's an opening in our office. One of my guys is going into private practice, and we're looking for a new lawyer. It's nothing but death work, you know.'
'You're right,' Adam said quietly. 'This is a lousy time to bring it up.'
'It's tough work, but it's satisfying. It's also heartbreaking. And necessary.' Hez chewed on a bite of sausage, and washed it down with beer. 'The money is lousy, compared with what you're making with the firm. Tight budget, long hours, lots of clients.'
'How much?'
'I can start you at thirty thousand.'
'I'm making sixty-two right now. With more on the way.'
'I've been there. I was making seventy with a big firm in D.C. when I gave it up to come here. I was on the fast track to a partnership, but it was easy to quit. Money's not everything.'
'You enjoy this?'
'It grows on you. It takes strong moral convictions to fight the system like this. Just think about it.'
Goodman was now looking their way. 'Are you driving to Parchman tonight?' he asked loudly.
Adam was finishing his second beer. He wanted a third, but no more. Exhaustion was rapidly setting in. 'No. I'll wait until we hear something in the morning.'
They ate and drank and listened to Goodman and Glass and Kerry tell war stories of other executions. The beer flowed, and the atmosphere went from optimism to outright confidence.
Sam lay in the darkness and waited for midnight. He'd watched the late news and learned that the hearing was over, and that the clock was still ticking. There was no stay. His life was in the hands of a federal judge.
At one minute after midnight, he closed his eyes and said a prayer. He asked God to help Lee with her troubles, to be with Carmen, and to give Adam the strength to survive the inevitable.
He had twenty-four hours to live. He folded his hands over his chest, and fell asleep.
47
NUGENT waited until exactly seven thirty to close the door and start the meeting. He walked to the front of the room, and surveyed his troops. 'I just left MSU,' he said somberly. 'The inmate is awake and alert, not at all the blithering zombie we read about in the paper this morning.' He paused and smiled and expected everyone to admire his humor. It went undetected.
'In fact, he's already had his breakfast, and is already bitching about wanting his recreation time. So at least something is normal around here. There's no word from the federal court in Jackson, so this thing is on schedule unless we hear otherwise. Correct, Mr. Mann?'
Lucas was sitting at the table across the front of the room, reading the paper and trying to ignore the colonel. 'Right.'
'Now, there are two areas of concern. First is the press. I've assigned Sergeant Moreland here to handle these bastards. We're gonna move them to the Visitors Center just inside the front gate, and try to keep them pinned down there. We're gonna surround them with guards, and just dare them to venture about. At four this afternoon, I'll conduct the lottery to see which reporters get to watch the execution. As of yesterday, there were over a hundred names on the request list. They get five seats.
'The second problem is what's happening outside the gate. The governor has agreed to assign three dozen troopers for today and tomorrow, and they'll be here shortly. We have to keep our distance from these nuts, especially the skinheads, sumbitches are crazy, but at the same time we have to maintain order. There were two fights yesterday, and things could've deteriorated rapidly if we hadn't been watching. If the execution takes place, there could be some tense moments. Any questions?'
There were none.
'Very well. I'll expect everyone to act professionally today, and carry this out in a responsible manner. Dismissed.' He snapped off a smart salute, and proudly watched them leave the room.
Sam straddled the bench with the checkerboard in front of him, and waited patiently for J. B. Gullitt to enter the bullpen. He sipped the stale remains of a cup of coffee.
Gullitt stepped through the door, and paused as the handcuffs were removed. He rubbed his wrists, shielded his eyes from the sun, and looked at his friend sitting alone. He walked to the bench and took his position across the board.
