The Chamber (Page 123)

"Who are they calling?" Carmen asked again.

"The governor’s hotline," Adam replied, without explanation. They listened to the nearest caller as he changed his voice and read a name from a phone list. He was now Benny Chase from Hickory Flat, Mississippi, and he had voted for the governor and didn’t think Sam Cayhall should be executed. It was time for the governor to step forward and take care of this situation.

Carmen cut her eyes at her brother, but he ignored her.

"These four are law students at Mississippi College," Goodman explained further. "We’ve used about a dozen students since Friday, different ages, whites and blacks, male and female. Professor Glass has been most helpful in finding these people. He’s made calls too. So have Hez Kerry and his boys at the Defense Group. We’ve had at least twenty people calling."

They pulled three chairs to the end of a table and sat down. Goodman found soft drinks in a plastic cooler, and sat them on the table. He continued talking in a low voice. "John Bryan Glass is doing some research as we speak. He’ll have a brief prepared by four. Hez Kerry is also at work. He’s checking with his counterparts in other death states to see if similar statutes have been used recently."

"Kerry is the black guy?" Adam said.

"Yeah, he’s the director of the Southern Capital Defense Group. Very sharp."

"A black lawyer busting his butt to save Sam."

"It makes no difference to Hez. It’s just another death case."

"I’d like to meet him."

"You will. All these guys will be at the hearing."

"And they’re working for free?" Carmen asked.

"Sort of. Kerry is on salary. Part of his job is to monitor every death case in this state, but since Sam has private lawyers Kerry is off the hook. He’s donating his time, but it’s something he wants to do. Professor Glass is on salary at the law school, but this is definitely outside the scope of his employment there. We’re paying these students five bucks an hour."

"Who’s paying them?" she asked.

"Dear old Kravitz & Bane."

Adam grabbed a nearby phonebook. "Carmen needs to get a flight out of here this afternoon," he said, flipping to the yellow pages.

"I’ll take care of it," Goodman said, taking the phonebook. "Where to?"

"San Francisco."

"I’ll see what’s available. Look, there’s a little deli around the corner. Why don’t you two get something to eat? We’ll walk to the governor’s office at two."

"I need to get to a library," Adam said, looking at his watch. It was almost one o’clock.

"Go eat, Adam. And try to relax. We’ll have time later to sit down with the brain trust and talk strategy. Right now, you need to relax and eat."

"I’m hungry," Carmen said, anxious to be alone with her brother for a few minutes. They eased from the room, and closed the door behind them.

She stopped him in the shabby hallway before they reached the stairs. "Please explain that to me," she insisted, grabbing his arm.

"What?"

"That little room in there."

"It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?"

"Is it legal?"

"It’s not illegal."

"Is it ethical?"

Adam took a deep breath and stared at the wall. "What are they planning to do with Sam?"

"Execute him."

"Execute, gas, exterminate, kill, call it what you want. But it’s murder, Carmen. Legal murder. It’s wrong, and I’m trying to stop it. It’s a dirty business, and if I have to bend a few ethics, I don’t care."

"It stinks."

"So does the gas chamber."

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."