Mercy

a stay … just to make sure?”

“It’s all too uncertain. The only thing we have in writing is the ticket and the money. They show an intention to go to England and someone taking money out of her account. The rest is all hearsay.”

“But if it’s true,” said Alex, looking at his watch, “then an innocent man is going to die in forty-five minutes’ time.”

“I know. But you’ve come to me late in the day. If you’d come to me with answers it would be a whole different story. But all you’ve got are unanswered questions.”

“Yet you were prepared to spare Burrow even when you were sure he was guilty, if he revealed the whereabouts of the body.”

“That was because Esther asked me to. She’s dying, as you know, and I was ready to do it for her — as a humanitarian gesture.”

Alex realized that he faced a choice. He could run with what he had already and have another try with the Federal District Court for a TRO. That might buy him time until tomorrow morning. But after two applications today already — both shot down in flames — it was clear which way the Court was leaning. They had given him the benefit of the doubt the first time. They were not likely to this time, no matter how strong the alleged evidence.

But the governor was different. On the one hand he was playing hardball. But on the other hand, he appeared to have a soft spot. And Alex thought he knew what it was.

The only question was… was there enough time?

“Sir, may I ask you a question? If Mrs. Olsen were to request a stay of execution now?”

He heard the governor breathing heavily.

“Then I’d grant it.”

23:16 PDT

Nat was driving north through San Francisco. He realized that he had cut it fine, time-wise. The execution was scheduled for a minute past midnight but he had to get there before that. That was why, when he found himself stuck behind an eighteen-wheel rig, he made a risky overtaking maneuver.

Seconds later Nat found himself in front of a police car with flashing lights and a siren. Not wanting any trouble, he pulled over. The police car stopped in front of him and a police officer stepped out and approached him.

“Are you aware that you were driving erratically back there?”

“It was a judgment call. I thought it was safe.”

“I’ll need to see your driver’s license and vehicle registration.”

Nat handed them over. The patrolman looked at them and put in a call, to check that the vehicle wasn’t stolen and that Nat didn’t have any outstanding warrants against him.

Nat wasn’t afraid. They weren’t going to find any warrants or theft reports or even unpaid parking tickets. The thing that bothered him was that all this checking was going to take time — and time was the one thing that he didn’t have.

Sometimes highway patrolman like to check these things because they’re being thorough. They would look pretty stupid if they let a driver go only to discover that he was a wanted man in half a dozen states. And if a driver drives erratically, it can mean that he’s under the influence of drink or drugs, or that he’s on the run from the law.

But in many cases, traffic cops stop drivers for no other reason than to make up the numbers or because they’re bored or because they don’t particularly like the look of the person they’ve stopped.

Nat didn’t know which of these was the case in this case, but he sensed hostility from the cop.

“I’m going to have to ask you to take a breathalyzer.”

Nat could have hit him — and would have, if he thought he’d get away with it.

23:20 PDT

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you in here, sir. You can come back in the morning.”

“In the morning it’ll be too late! I’ve got to see her now!”

Alex was standing eyeball to eyeball with a hospital security guard.

“There’s no visiting after hours — except for terminal patients. That’s the rule.”

“She is a terminal patient.”

“Well unless she’s listed you as next of kin and she’s in the terminal ward, you can’t come in.”

Alex looked round helplessly. At this time there were very few people about in the corridors, even staff. But he knew that it was only a matter of time before other security staff arrived. He had to see Esther and he knew that he was never going to convince this rent-a-cop or any of his colleagues. Alex could see that this man was clearly bigger than he. But, then again, David was bigger than Jonathan Olsen. That hadn’t stopped Jonathan putting David flat on his back with a single punch. And it wouldn’t stop Alex now.

His left fist shot out and caught the security guard square on the nose. The guard yelled with pain, but stayed on his feet. But he was just a little too slow to react. A right sunk deep into his midriff and as he doubled over, a savage left uppercut to his ear settled the issue, sending his semi-circular canals into turmoil and depriving him of his sense of balance.

Not looking down at the results of his work for long enough to feel guilty about hurting a man who was only doing his job, Alex raced up the stairs to the ward where Esther had a private room. He opened the door and went in to the dimly lit room, not quite knowing what to expect. He didn’t even know if she would be awake.

He looked at her in the bed while his eyes became accustomed to the dark. Eventually he got to the point that he could make out her open eyes squinting at him.

“Hallo, Mr. Sedaka,” she said quietly. She showed no sign of fear, and it was obvious that she had seen him before he saw her.

“I’m sorry I disturbed you, Mrs. Olsen. But it’s important.”

“You didn’t disturb me. I knew you’d come.”

The voice was weak, but it held a quiet confidence — the confidence of a woman who wanted something and knew what she wanted.

He walked closer and sat by the bed, so he could speak without his voice carrying to the corridor.

“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t have to. But I spoke to the governor. He said he’d only grant a stay of execution if you asked him to. I know I have no right to ask you. But I have found out a few things that I need to tell you. I know that Dorothy went to England for the abortion. We have the airline receipt, we have proof that she paid money to the medical center. We know that she never left England. We know that Edgar didn’t commit suicide. It was murder. And there’s no gentle way to tell you this, Mrs. Olsen, but we have evidence that Edgar abused Dorothy. I’m sorry to have to tell you that, but I need you to help me. I need you to tell me what I don’t know, so it behooves me to be honest with you.”

“It’s been weighing on my conscience for a long time now — half a lifetime, in fact.”

“What has?”

“The abuse … Edgar’s abuse of Dorothy.”

“You knew about it?”

“Yes, I knew. And I did nothing to stop it.”

There are sins of commission and sins of omission.

“But it wasn’t sexual abuse, was it?”

“It depends what you mean by sexual abuse.”