The Chamber (Page 26)

"The Pizza Man? Forgive me."

"Malcolm Friar. Killed three pizza delivery boys in a week. At trial he claimed robbery was not the motive, said he was just hungry."

Naifeh raised both hands and nodded. "Okay, okay, I remember. He’s the nearest after Sam?"

"Probably. It’s hard to say."

"I know." Naifeh gently pushed away from his desk and walked to a window. His shoes were somewhere under the desk. He thrust his hands in his pockets, pressed his toes into the carpet, and thought deeply for a while. He had been hospitalized after the last execution, a mild heart flutter as his doctor preferred to call it.

He’d spent a week in a hospital bed watching his little flutter on a monitor, and promised his wife he would never suffer through another execution. If he could somehow survive Sam, then he could retire at full pension.

He turned and stared at his friend Lucas Mann. "I’m not doing this one, Lucas. I’m passing the buck to another man, one of my subordinates, a younger man, a good man, a, man who can be trusted, a man who’s never seen one of these shows, a man who’s just itching to get blood on his hands."

"Not Nugent."

"That’s the man. Retired Colonel George Nugent, my trusted assistant."

"He’s a nut."

"Yes, but he’s our nut, Lucas. He’s a fanatic for details, discipline, organization, hell, he’s the perfect choice. I’ll give him the manual, tell him what I want, and he’ll do a marvelous job of killing Sam Cayhall. He’ll be perfect."

George Nugent was an assistant superintendent at Parchman. He had made a name for himself by implementing a most successful boot camp for first offenders. It was a brutal, six-week ordeal in which Nugent strutted and swaggered around in black boots, cursing like a drill instructor and threatening gang rape for the slightest infraction. The first offenders rarely came back to Parchman.

"Nugent’s crazy, Phillip. It’s a matter of time before he hurts someone."

"Right! Now you understand. We’re going to let him hurt Sam, just the way it should be done.

By the book. Heaven knows how much Nugent loves a book to go by. He’s the perfect choice, Lucas. It’ll be a flawless execution."

It really mattered little to Lucas Mann. He shrugged, and said, "You’re the boss."

"Thanks," Naifeh said. "Just watch Nugent, okay. I’ll watch him on this end, and you watch the legal stuff. We’ll get through it."

"This will be the biggest one yet," Lucas said.

"I know. I’ll have to pace myself. I’m an old man."

Lucas gathered his file from the desk and headed for the door. "I’ll call you after the kid leaves. He’s supposed to check in with me before he goes."

"I’d like to meet him," Naifeh said.

"He’s a nice kid."

"Some family, huh."

The nice kid and his condemned grandfather had spent fifteen minutes in silence, the only sound in the room the uneasy rattling of the overworked AC unit. At one point, Adam had walked to the wall and waved his hand before the dusty vents. There was a trace of cool air. He leaned on the counter with his arms folded and stared at the door, as far away from Sam as possible. He was leaning and staring when the door opened and the head of Sergeant Packer appeared. Just checking to see if things were okay, he said, glancing first at Adam then down the room and through the screen at Sam, who was leaning forward in his chair with a hand over his face.

"We’re fine," Adam said without conviction.

"Good, good," Packer said and hurriedly closed the door. It locked, and Adam slowly made his way back to his chair. He pulled it close to the screen and rested on his elbows. Sam ignored him for a minute or two, then wiped his eyes with a sleeve and sat up. They looked at each other.

"We need to talk," Adam said quietly.

Sam nodded but said nothing. He wiped his eyes again, this time with the other sleeve. He removed a cigarette and put it between his lips. His hand shook as he flicked the lighter. He puffed quickly.

"So you’re really Alan," he said in a low, husky voice.

"At one time, I guess. I didn’t know it until my father died."

"You were born in 1964."

"Correct."

"My first grandson."

Adam nodded and glanced away.

"You disappeared in 1967."

"Something like that. I don’t remember it, you know. My earliest memories are from California."

"I heard Eddie went to California, and that there was another child. Someone told me later her name was Carmen. I would hear bits and pieces over the years, knew y’all were somewhere in Southern California, but he did a good job of disappearing."

"We moved around a lot when I was a kid. I think he had trouble keeping a job."

"You didn’t know about me?"

"No. The family was never mentioned. I found out about it after his funeral."

"Who told you?"

"Lee."

Sam closed his eyes tightly for a moment, then puffed again. "How is she?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Why’d you go to work for Kravitz & Bane?" "It’s a good firm."

"Did you know they represented me?"

"Yes."

"So you’ve been planning this?"

"For about five years."

"But why?"

"I don’t know."

"You must have a reason."

"The reason is obvious. You’re my grandfather, okay. Like it or not, you’re who you are and I’m who I am. And I’m here now, so what are we going to do about it?"

"I think you should leave."

"I’m not leaving, Sam. I’ve been preparing for this a long time."

"Preparing for what?"

"You need legal representation. You need help. That’s why I’m here."

"I’m beyond help. They’re determined to gas me, okay, for lots of reasons. You don’t need to get involved in it."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one, it’s hopeless. You’re gonna get hurt if you bust your ass and you’re unsuccessful. Second, your true identity will be revealed. It’ll be very embarrassing. Life for you will be much better if you remain Adam Hall."

"I am Adam Hall, and I don’t plan to change it. I’m also your grandson, and we can’t change that, can we? So what’s the big deal?"

"It’ll be embarrassing for your family. Eddie did a great job of protecting you. Don’t blow it.

"My cover’s already blown. My firm knows it. I told Lucas Mann, and – "

"That jerk’ll tell everybody. Don’t trust him for a minute."

"Look, Sam, you don’t understand. I don’t care if he tells. I don’t care if the world knows that I’m your grandson. I’m tired of these dirty little family secrets. I’m a big boy now, I can think for myself. Plus, I’m a lawyer, and my skin is getting thick. I can handle it."

Sam relaxed a bit in his chair and looked at the floor with a pleasant little smirk, the kind grown men often give to little boys who are acting bigger than their years. He grunted at something and very slowly nodded his head. "You just don’t understand, kid," he said again, now in the measured, patient tone.

"So explain it to me," Adam said.

"It would take forever."

"We have four weeks. You can do a lot of talking in four weeks."

"Just exactly what is it that you want to hear?"

Adam leaned even closer on his elbows, pen and pad ready. His eyes were inches from the slit in the screen. "First, I want to talk about the case – appeals, strategies, the trials, the bombing, who was with you that night – "