"No," Sam said ever so softly but firmly as he looked at Adam through the opening.
"I don't believe you."
"There was no accomplice."
"I don't believe you, Sam."
Sam shrugged casually as if he couldn't care less. He crossed his legs and wrapped his fingers around a knee.
Adam took a deep breath, scribbled something routinely as if he'd been expecting this, and flipped to a clean page. "What time did you arrive in Cleveland on the night of April 20, 1967?"
"Which time?"
"The first time."
"I left Clanton around six. Drove two hours to Cleveland. So I got there around eight."
"Where'd you go?"
"To a shopping center."
"Why'd you go there?"
"To get the car."
"The green Pontiac?"
"Yes. But it wasn't there. So I drove to Greenville to look around a bit."
"Had you been there before?"
"Yes. A couple of weeks earlier, I had scouted the place. I even went in the Jew's office to get a good look."
"That was pretty stupid, wasn't it? I mean, his secretary identified you at trial as the man who came in asking for directions and wanting to use the rest room."
"Very stupid. But then, I wasn't supposed to get caught. She was never supposed to see my face again." He bit the filter and sucked hard. "A very bad move. Of course, it's awfully easy to sit here now and second-guess everything."
"How long did you stay in Greenville?"
"An hour or so. Then I drove back to Cleveland to get the car. Dogan always had detailed plans with several alternates. The car was parked in spot B, near a truck stop."
"Where were the keys?"
"Under the mat."
"What did you do?"
"Took it for a drive. Drove out of town, out through some cotton fields. I found a lonely spot and parked the car. I popped the trunk to check the dynamite."
"How many sticks?"
"Fifteen, I believe. I was using between twelve and twenty, depending on the building. Twenty for the synagogue because it was new and modern and built with concrete and stone. But the Jew's office was an old wooden structure, and I knew fifteen would level it."
"What else was in the trunk?"
"The usual. A cardboard box of dynamite. Two blasting caps. A fifteen-minute fuse."
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure."
"What about the timing device? The detonator?"
"Oh yeah. I forgot about that. It was in another, smaller box."
"Describe it for me."
"Why? You've read the trial transcripts. The FBI expert did a wonderful job of reconstructing my little bomb. You've read this, haven't you?"
"Many times."
"And you've seen the photos they used at trial. The ones of the fragments and pieces of the timer. You've seen all this, haven't you?"
"I've seen it. Where did Dogan get the clock?"
"I never asked. You could buy, one in any drugstore. It was just a cheap, windup alarm clock. Nothing fancy."
"Was this your first job with a timing device?"
"You know it was. The other bombs were detonated by fuses. Why are you asking me these questions?"
"Because I want to hear your answers. I've read everything, but I want to hear it from you. Why did you want to delay the Kramer bomb?"
"Because I was tired of lighting fuses and running like hell. I wanted a longer break between planting the bomb and feeling it go off."
"What time did you plant it?"
"Around 4 A.M."
"What time was it supposed to go off?"
"Around five."