"There were at least five bombings before Kramer, all with the same type, all very basic - dynamite, caps, fuses. Kramer, of course, was different because a timing device was used. Who taught you how to make bombs?"
"Have you ever lit a firecracker?"
"Sure."
"Same principle. A match to the fuse, run like crazy, and boom."
"The timing device is a bit more complicated. Who taught you how to wire one?"
"My mother. When do you plan to return here?"
"Tomorrow."
"Good. Here's what we'll do. I need some time to think about this. I don't want to talk right now, and I damned sure don't want to answer a bunch of questions. Let me look over this document, make some changes, and we'll meet again tomorrow."
"That's wasting time."
"I've wasted almost ten years here. What's another day?"
"They may not allow me to return if I don't officially represent you. This visit is a favor."
"A great bunch of guys, aren't they? Tell them you're my lawyer for the next twenty-four hours. They'll let you in."
"We have a lot of ground to cover, Sam. I'd like to get started."
"I need to think, okay. When you spend over nine years alone in a cell, you become real good at thinking and analyzing. But you can't do it fast, understand? It takes longer to sort things out and place them in order. I'm sort of spinnin' right now, you know. You've hit me kinda hard."
"Okay."
"I'll be better tomorrow. We can talk then. I promise."
"Sure." Adam placed the cap on his pen and stuck it in his pocket. He slid the file into the briefcase, and relaxed in his seat. "I'll be staying in Memphis for the next couple of months."
"Memphis? I thought you lived in Chicago."
"We have a small office in Memphis. I'll be working out of there. The number's on the card. Feel free to call anytime."
"What happens when this thing is over?"
"I don't know. I may go back to Chicago."
"Are you married?"
No., "Is Carmen?" "No. "What's she like?"
Adam folded his hands behind his head and examined the thin fog above them. "She's very smart. Very pretty. Looks a lot like her mother."
"Evelyn was a beautiful girl."
"She's still beautiful."
"I always thought Eddie was lucky to get her. I didn't like her family, though."
And she certainly didn't like Eddie's, Adam thought to himself. Sam's chin dropped almost to his chest. He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This family business will take some work, won't it?" he said without looking.
"Yep."
"I may not be able to talk about some things."
"Yes you will. You owe it to me, Sam. And you owe it to yourself."
"You don't know what you're talking about, and you wouldn't want to know all of it."
"Try me. I'm sick of secrets."
"Why do you want to know so much?"
"So I can try and make some sense of it."
"That'll be a waste of time."
"I'll have to decide that, won't I?"
Sam placed his hands on his knees, and slowly stood. He took a deep breath and looked down at Adam through the screen. "I'd like to go now."
Their eyes met through the narrow diamonds in the partition. "Sure," Adam said. "Can I bring you anything?"
"No. Just come back."
"I promise."
11
PACKER closed the door and locked it, and together they stepped from the narrow shadow outside the conference room into the blinding midday sun. Adam closed his eyes and stopped for a second, then fished through his pockets in a desperate search for sunglasses. Packer waited patiently, his eyes sensibly covered with a pair of thick imitation Ray-Bans, his face shielded by the wide brim of an official Parchman cap. The air was suffocating and almost visible. Sweat immediately covered Adam's arms and face as he finally found the sunglasses in his briefcase and put them on. He squinted and grimaced, and once able to actually see, he followed Packer along the brick trail and baked grass in front of the unit.
"Sam okay?" Packer asked. His hands were in his pockets and he was in no hurry.
"I guess."
"You hungry?"
"No," Adam replied as he glanced at his watch. It was almost one o'clock. He wasn't sure if Packer was offering prison food or something else, but he was taking no chances.
"Too bad. Today's Wednesday, and that means turnip greens and corn bread. Mighty good."
"Thanks." Adam was certain that somewhere deep in his genes he was supposed to crave turnip greens and corn bread. Today's menu should make his mouth drool and his stomach yearn. But he considered himself a Californian, and to his knowledge had never seen turnip greens. "Maybe next week," he said, hardly believing he was being offered lunch on the Row.