Chamber

movies, termination, and who gets to witness the execution.'

'I'm concerned about a lot of things. Those happen to be non-negotiable.'

'I promised yesterday I would have nothing to do with books and movies.'

'Good. Moving right along.'

'The termination language is fine. You want the right to terminate my representation, and that of Kravitz & Bane, at any time and for any reason, without a fight.'

'It took me a long time to fire those Jewish bastards last time. I don't want to go through it again.'

'That's reasonable.'

'I don't care whether you think it's reasonable, okay? It's in the agreement, and it's nonnegotiable.'

'Fair enough. And you want to deal with no one but me.'

'That's correct. No one at Kravitz & Bane touches my file. That place is crawling with Jews, and they don't get involved, okay? Same for niggers and women.'

'Look, Sam, can we lay off the slurs? How about we refer to them as blacks?'

'Ooops. Sorry. How about we do the right thing and call them African-Americans and Jewish-Americans and Female-Americans? You and I'll be Irish-Americans, and also WhiteMale-Americans. If you need help from your firm, try to stick with German-Americans or Italian-Americans. Since you're in Chicago, maybe use a few Polish- Americans. Gee, that'll be nice, won't it? We'll be real proper and multicultural and politically correct, won't we?'

'Whatever.'

'I feel better already.'

Adam made a check mark by his notes. 'I'll agree to it.'

'Damned right you will, if you want an agreement. Just keep the minorities out of my life.'

'You're assuming they're anxious to jump in.'

'I'm not assuming anything. I have four weeks to live, and I'd rather spend my time with people I trust.'

Adam read again a paragraph on page three of Sam's draft. The language gave Sam the sole authority to select two witnesses at his execution. 'I don't understand this clause about the witnesses,' Adam said.

'It's very simple. If we get to that point, there will be about fifteen witnesses. Since I'm the guest of honor, I get to select two. The statute, once you've had a chance to review it, lists a few who must be present. The warden, a Lebanese-American by the way, has some discretion in picking the rest. They usually conduct a lottery with the press to choose which of the vultures are allowed to gawk at it.'

'Then why do you want this clause?'

'Because the lawyer is always one of the two chosen by the gassee. That's me.'

'And you don't want me to witness the execution?'

'That's correct.'

'You're assuming I'll want to witness it.'

'I'm not assuming anything. It's just a fact that the lawyers can't wait to see their poor clients gassed once it becomes inevitable. Then they can't wait to get in front of the cameras and cry and carry on and rail against injustice.'

'And you think I'll do that?'

'No. I don't think you'll do that.'

'Then, why this clause?'

Sam leaned forward with his elbows on the counter. His nose was an inch from the screen. 'Because you will not witness the execution, okay?'

'It's a deal,' he said casually, and flipped to another page. 'We're not going to get that far, Sam.'

'Atta boy. That's what I want to hear.'

'Of course, we may need the governor.'

Sam snorted in disgust and relaxed in his chair. He crossed his right leg on his left knee, and glared at Adam. 'The agreement is very plain.'

Indeed it was. Almost an entire page was dedicated to a venomous attack on David McAllister. Sam forgot about the law and used words like scurrilous and egotistical and narcissistic and mentioned more than once the insatiable appetite for publicity.

'So you have a problem with the governor,' Adam said.

Sam snorted.

'I don't think this is a good idea, Sam.'

'I really don't care what you think.'

'The governor could save your life.'

'Oh really. He's the only reason I'm here, on death row, waiting to die, in the gas chamber. Why in hell would he want to save my life?'

'I didn't say he wanted to. I said that he could. Let's keep our options open.'

Sam smirked for a long minute as he lit a cigarette. He blinked and rolled his eyes as if this kid was the dumbest human he'd encountered in decades. Then he leaned forward on his left elbow and pointed at Adam with a crooked right finger. 'If you think David McAllister will grant me a last minute pardon, then you're a fool. But let me tell you what he will do. He'll use you, and me, to suck out all the publicity imaginable. He'll invite you to his office at the state capitol, and before you get there he'll tip off the media. He'll listen with remarkable sincerity. He'll profess grave reservations about whether I should die. He'll schedule another meeting, closer to the execution. And after you leave, he'll hold a couple of interviews and divulge everything you've just told him. He'll rehash the Kramer bombing. He'll talk about civil rights and all that radical nigger crap. He'll probably even cry. The closer I get to the gas chamber, the bigger the media circus will become. He'll try every way in the world to get in the middle of it. He'll meet with you every day, if we allow it. He'll take us to the wire.'

'He can do this without us.'

'And he will. Mark my word, Adam.

An hour before I die, he'll hold a press conference somewhere probably here, maybe at the governor's mansion -and he'll stand there in the glare of a hundred cameras and deny me clemency. And the bastard will have tears in his eyes.'

'It won't hurt to talk to him.'

'Fine. Go talk to him. And after you do, I'll invoke paragraph two and your ass'll go back to Chicago.'

'He might like me. We could be friends.'

'Oh, he'll love you. You're Sam's grandson. What a great story! More reporters, more cameras, more journalists, more interviews. He'd love to make your acquaintance so he can string you along. Hell, you might get him reelected.'

Adam flipped another page, made some more notes, and stalled for a while in an effort to move away from the governor. 'Where'd you learn to write like this?' he asked.

'Same place you did. I was taught by the same learned souls who provided your instruction. Dead judges. Honorable justices. Windy lawyers. Tedious professors. I've read the same garbage you've read.'

'Not bad,' Adam said, scanning another paragraph.

'I'm delighted you think so.'

'I understand you have quite a little practice here.'

'Practice. What's a practice? Why do lawyers practice? Why can't they just work like everyone else? Do plumbers practice? Do truck drivers practice? No, they simply work. But not lawyers. Hell no. They're special, and they practice. With all their damned practicing you'd think they'd know what the hell they were doing. You'd think they'd eventually become good at something.'

'Do you like anyone?'

'That's an idiotic question.'

'Why is it idiotic?'

'Because you're sitting on that side of the wall. And you can walk out that door and drive away. And tonight you can have dinner in a nice restaurant and sleep in a soft bed. Life's a bit different on this side. I'm treated like an animal. I have a cage. I have a death sentence which allows the State of Mississippi to kill me in four weeks, and so yes, son, it's hard to be loving and compassionate. It's hard to like people these days. That's why your question is foolish.'