"That's correct."
"Has he hired you?"
"Not exactly."
"I didn't think so. This presents a small problem. You see, you're not supposed to visit an inmate unless you actually represent him, and I know that Sam has successfully terminated Kravitz & Bane."
"So I can't see him?" Adam asked, almost with a trace of relief.
"You're not supposed to. I had a long talk yesterday with Garner Goodman. He and I go back a few years to the Maynard Tole execution. Are you familiar with that one?"
"Vaguely."
"Nineteen eighty-six. It was my second execution," he said as if he'd personally pulled the switch. He sat on the edge of his desk and looked down at Adam. The starch crackled gently in his chinos. His right leg swung from the desk. "I've had four, you know. Sam could be the fifth. Anyway, Garner represented Maynard Tole, and we got to know each other. He's a fine gentleman and fierce advocate."
"Thanks," Adam said because he could think of nothing else.
"I hate them, personally."
"You're opposed to the death penalty?"
"Most of the time. I go through stages, actually. Every time we kill someone here I think the whole world's gone crazy. Then, invariably, I'll review one of these cases and remember how brutal and horrible some of these crimes were.
My first execution was Teddy Doyle Meeks, a drifter who raped, mutilated, and killed a little boy. There was not much sadness here when he was gassed. But, hey, listen, I could tell war stories forever. Maybe we'll have time for it later, okay?"
"Sure," Adam said without commitment. He could not envision a moment when he wanted to hear stories about violent murderers and their executions.
"I told Garner that I didn't think you should be permitted to visit Sam. He listened for a while, then he explained, rather vaguely I must say, that perhaps yours was a special situation, and that you should be allowed at least one visit. He wouldn't say what was so special about it, know what I mean?" Lucas rubbed his chin when he said this as if he had almost solved the puzzle. "Our policy is rather strict, especially for MSU. But the warden will do whatever I ask." He said this very slowly, and the words hung in the air.
"I, uh, really need to see him," Adam said, his voice almost cracking.
"Well, he needs a lawyer. Frankly, I'm glad you're here. We've never executed one unless his lawyer was present. There's all sorts of legal maneuvering up to the very last minute, and I'll just feel better if Sam has a lawyer." He walked around the desk and took a seat on the other side. He opened a file and studied a piece of paper. Adam waited and tried to breathe normally.
"We do a fair amount of background on our death inmates," Lucas said, still looking at the file. The statement had the tone of a solemn warning. "Especially when the appeals have run and the execution is looming. Do you know anything about Sam's family?"
The knot suddenly felt like a basketball in Adam's stomach. He managed to shrug and shake his head at the same time, as if to say he knew nothing.
"Do you plan to talk to Sam's family?"
Again, no response, just the same inept shrug of the shoulders, very heavy shoulders at this moment.
"I mean, normally, in these cases, there's quite a lot of contact with the condemned man's family as the execution gets closer. You'll probably want to contact these folks. Sam has a daughter in Memphis, a Mrs. Lee Booth. I have an address, if you want it." Lucas watched him suspiciously. Adam could not move. "Don't suppose you know her, do you?"
Adam shook his head, but said nothing.
"Sam had one son, Eddie Cayhall, but the poor guy committed suicide in 1981. Lived in California. Eddie left two children, a son born in Clanton, Mississippi, on May 12, 1964, which, oddly enough, is your birthday, according to my Martindale-Hubbell Law Directory. Says you were born in Memphis on the same day. Eddie also left a daughter who was born in California. These are Sam's grandchildren. I'll try and contact them, if you - "
"Eddie Cayhall was my father," Adam blurted out, and he took a deep breath. He sank lower in the chair and stared at the top of the desk. His heart pounded furiously, but at least he was breathing again. His shoulders were suddenly lighter. He even managed a very small smile.
Mann's face was expressionless. He thought for a long minute, then said with a hint of satisfaction, "I sort of figured that." He immediately started flipping papers as if the file possessed many other surprises. "Sam's been a very lonely man on death row, and I've often wondered about his family. He gets some mail, but almost none from his family. Virtually no visitors, not that he wants any. But it's a bit unusual for such a noted inmate to be ignored by his family. Especially a white one. I don't pry, you understand."
"Of course not."
Lucas ignored this. "We have to make preparations for the execution, Mr. Hall. For example, we have to know what to do with the body. Funeral arrangements and all. That's where the family comes in. After I talked to Garner yesterday, I asked some of our people in Jackson to track down the family. It was really quite easy. They also checked your paperwork, and immediately discovered that the State of Tennessee has no record of the birth of Adam Hall on May 12, 1964. One thing sort of led to another. It wasn't difficult."
"I'm not hiding anymore."
"When did you learn about Sam?"
"Nine years ago. My aunt, Lee Booth, told me after we buried my father."
"Have you had any contact with Sam?"
"No."
Lucas closed the file and reclined in his squeaky chair. "So Sam has no idea who you are or why you're here?"
"That's right."
"Wow," he whistled at the ceiling.
Adam relaxed a bit and sat up in his chair. The cat was now out of the bag, and had it not been for Lee and her fears of being discovered he would have felt completely at ease. "How long can I see him today?" he asked.
"Well, Mr. Hall - "
"Just call me Adam, okay."
"Sure, Adam, we really have two sets of rules for the Row."
"Excuse me, but I was told by a guard at the gate that there was no death row."
"Not officially. You'll never hear the guards or other personnel refer to it as anything but Maximum Security or MSU or Unit 17. Anyway, when a man's time is about up on the Row we relax the rules quite a bit. Normally, a visit with the lawyer is limited to an hour a day, but in Sam's case you can have all the time you need. I suspect you'll have a lot to talk about."
"So there's no time limit?"
"No. You can stay all day if you like. We try to make things easy in the last days. You can come and go as you please as long as there's no security risk. I've been to death row in five other states, and, believe me, we treat them the best. Hell, in Louisiana they take the poor guy out of his unit and place him in what's called the Death House for three days before they kill him. Talk about cruel. We don't do that. Sam will be treated special until the big day."
"The big day?"
"Yeah. It's four weeks from today, you know? August 8." Lucas reached for some papers on the corner of his desk, then handed them to Adam. "This came down this morning. The Fifth Circuit lifted the stay late yesterday afternoon. The Mississippi Supreme Court just set a new execution date for August 8."
Adam held the papers without looking at them. "Four weeks," he said, stunned.