'Are you saying you were loving and compassionate before you arrived here?'
Sam stared through the opening and puffed on the cigarette. 'Another stupid question.'
'Why?'
'It's irrelevant, counselor. You're a lawyer, not a shrink.'
'I'm your grandson. Therefore, I'm allowed to ask questions about your past.'
'Ask them. They might not be answered.'
Why not?'
'The past is gone, son. It's history. We can't undo what's been done. Nor can we explain it all.'
'But I don't have a past.'
'Then you are indeed a lucky person.'
'I'm not so sure.'
'Look, if you expect me to fill in the gaps, then I'm afraid you've got the wrong person.'
'Okay. Who else should I talk to?'
'I don't know. It's not important.'
'Maybe it's important to me.'
'Well, to be honest, I'm not too concerned about you right now. Believe it or not, I'm much more worried about me. Me and my future. Me and my neck. There's a big clock ticking somewhere, ticking rather loudly, wouldn't you say? For some strange reason, don't ask me why, but I can hear the damned thing and it makes me real anxious. I find it very difficult to worry about the problems of others.'
'Why did you become a Klansman?'
'Because my father was in the Klan.'
'Why did he become a Klansman?'
'Because his father was in the Klan.'
'Great. Three generations.'
'Four, I think. Colonel Jacob Cayhall fought with Nathan Bedford Forrest in the war, and family legend has it that he was one of the early members of the Klan. He was my greatgrandfather.'
'You're proud of this?'
'Is that a question?'
'Yes.'
'It's not a matter of pride.' Sam nodded at the counter. 'Are you going to sign that agreement?'
'Yes.'
'Then do it.'
Adam signed at the bottom of the back page and handed it to Sam. 'You're asking questions that are very confidential. As my lawyer, you cannot breathe a word.'
'I understand the relationship.'
Sam signed his name next to Adam's, then studied the signatures. 'When did you become a Hall?'
'A month before my fourth birthday. It was a family affair. We were all converted at the same time. Of course, I don't remember.'
'Why did he stick with Hall? Why not make a clean break and go with Miller or Green or something?'
'Is that a question?'
« »
No.
'He was running, Sam. And he was burning bridges as he went. I guess four generations was enough for him.'
Sam placed the contract in a chair beside him, and methodically lit another cigarette. He exhaled at the ceiling and stared at Adam. 'Look, Adam,' he said slowly, his voice suddenly much softer. 'Let's lay off the family stuff for a while, okay. Maybe we'll get around to it later. Right now I need to know what's about to happen to me. What are my chances, you know? Stuff like that. How do you stop the clock? What do you file next?'
'Depends on several things, Sam. Depends on how much you tell me about the bombing.'
'I don't follow.'
'If there are new facts, then we present them.
There are ways, believe me. We'll find a judge who'll listen.'
'What kind of new facts?'
Adam flipped to a clean page on his pad, and scribbled the date in the margin. 'Who delivered the green Pontiac to Cleveland on the night before the bombing?'
'I don't know. One of Dogan's men.'
'You don't know his name?'
« »
No.
'Come on, Sam.'
'I swear. I don't know who did it. I never saw the man. The car was delivered to a parking lot. I found it. I was supposed to leave it where I found it. I never saw the man who delivered it.'
'Why wasn't he discovered during the trials?'
'How am I supposed to know? He was just a minor accomplice, I guess. They were after me. Why bother with a gopher? I don't know.'
'Kramer was bombing number six, right?'
'I think so.' Sam leaned forward again with his face almost touching the screen. His voice was low, his words carefully chosen as if someone might be listening somewhere.
'You think so?'
'It was a long time ago, okay.' He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. 'Yeah, number six.'
'The FBI said it was number six.'
'Then that settles it. They're always right.'
'Was the same green Pontiac used in one or all of the prior bombings?'
'Yes. In a couple, as I remember. We used more than one car.'
'All supplied by Dogan?'
'Yes. He was a car dealer.'
'I know. Did the same man deliver the Pontiac for the prior bombings?'
'I never saw or met anyone delivering the cars for the bombings. Dogan didn't work that way. He was extremely careful, and his plans were detailed. I don't know this for a fact, but I'm certain that the man delivering the cars didn't have a clue as to who I was.'
'Did the cars come with the dynamite?'
'Yes. Always. Dogan had enough guns and explosives for a small war. Feds never found his arsenal either.'
'Where'd you learn about explosives?'
'KKK boot camp and the basic training manual.'
'Probably hereditary, wasn't it?'
'No, it wasn't.'
'I'm serious. How'd you learn to detonate explosives?'
'It's very basic and simple. Any fool could pick it up in thirty minutes.'
'Then with a bit of practice you're an expert.'
'Practice helps. It's not much more difficult than lighting a firecracker. You strike a match, any match will do, and you place it at the end of along fuse until the fuse lights. Then you run like hell. If you're lucky, it won't blow up for about fifteen minutes.'
'And this is something that is just sort of absorbed by all Klansmen?'
'Most of the ones I knew could handle it.'
'Do you still know any Klansmen?'
'No. They've abandoned me.'
Adam watched his face carefully. The fierce blue eyes were steady. The wrinkles didn't move. There was no emotion, no feeling or sorrow or anger. Sam returned the stare without blinking.
