"Are you saying you were loving and compassionate before you arrived here?"
Sam stared through the opening and puffed on the cigarette. "Another stupid question."
"Why?"
"It's irrelevant, counselor. You're a lawyer, not a shrink."
"I'm your grandson. Therefore, I'm allowed to ask questions about your past."
"Ask them. They might not be answered."
Why not?"
"The past is gone, son. It's history. We can't undo what's been done. Nor can we explain it all."
"But I don't have a past."
"Then you are indeed a lucky person."
"I'm not so sure."
"Look, if you expect me to fill in the gaps, then I'm afraid you've got the wrong person."
"Okay. Who else should I talk to?"
"I don't know. It's not important."
"Maybe it's important to me."
"Well, to be honest, I'm not too concerned about you right now. Believe it or not, I'm much more worried about me. Me and my future. Me and my neck. There's a big clock ticking somewhere, ticking rather loudly, wouldn't you say? For some strange reason, don't ask me why, but I can hear the damned thing and it makes me real anxious. I find it very difficult to worry about the problems of others."
"Why did you become a Klansman?"
"Because my father was in the Klan."
"Why did he become a Klansman?"
"Because his father was in the Klan."
"Great. Three generations."
"Four, I think. Colonel Jacob Cayhall fought with Nathan Bedford Forrest in the war, and family legend has it that he was one of the early members of the Klan. He was my greatgrandfather."
"You're proud of this?"
"Is that a question?"
"Yes."
"It's not a matter of pride." Sam nodded at the counter. "Are you going to sign that agreement?"
"Yes."
"Then do it."
Adam signed at the bottom of the back page and handed it to Sam. "You're asking questions that are very confidential. As my lawyer, you cannot breathe a word."
"I understand the relationship."
Sam signed his name next to Adam's, then studied the signatures. "When did you become a Hall?"
"A month before my fourth birthday. It was a family affair. We were all converted at the same time. Of course, I don't remember."
"Why did he stick with Hall? Why not make a clean break and go with Miller or Green or something?"
"Is that a question?"
« »
No.
"He was running, Sam. And he was burning bridges as he went. I guess four generations was enough for him."
Sam placed the contract in a chair beside him, and methodically lit another cigarette. He exhaled at the ceiling and stared at Adam. "Look, Adam," he said slowly, his voice suddenly much softer. "Let's lay off the family stuff for a while, okay. Maybe we'll get around to it later. Right now I need to know what's about to happen to me. What are my chances, you know? Stuff like that. How do you stop the clock? What do you file next?"
"Depends on several things, Sam. Depends on how much you tell me about the bombing."
"I don't follow."
"If there are new facts, then we present them.
There are ways, believe me. We'll find a judge who'll listen."
"What kind of new facts?"
Adam flipped to a clean page on his pad, and scribbled the date in the margin. "Who delivered the green Pontiac to Cleveland on the night before the bombing?"
"I don't know. One of Dogan's men."
"You don't know his name?"
« »
No.
"Come on, Sam."