Henshaw made a tentative move, and Sam jumped him again. Five minutes later, the game was over with Sam victorious again. They cleared the board, and started over.
At noon, Packer and another guard appeared with handcuffs, and the fun was over. They were led to their cells where lunch was in progress. Beans, peas, mashed potatoes, and several slices of dry toast. Sam ate less than a third of the bland food on his plate, and waited patiently for a guard to come after him. He held a pair of clean boxer shorts and a bar of soap. It was time to bathe.
The guard arrived and led Sam to a small shower at the end of the tier. By court order, death row inmates were allowed five quick showers a week, whether they needed them or not, as the guards liked to say.
Sam showered quickly, washing his hair twice with the soap and rinsing himself in the warm water. The shower itself was clean enough, but used by all fourteen inmates on the tier. Thus, the rubber shower shoes remained on the feet. After five minutes, the water stopped, and Sam dripped for a few more minutes as he stared at the moldy tiled walls. There were some things about the Row that he would not miss.
Twenty minutes later, he was loaded into a prison van and driven a half a mile to the law library.
Adam was waiting inside. He removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves as the guards uncuffed Sam and left the room. They greeted each other and shook hands. Sam quickly took a seat and lit a cigarette. "Where've you been?" he asked.
"Busy," Adam said, sitting across the table. "I had an unexpected trip to Chicago last Wednesday and Thursday."
"Anything to do with me?"
"You could say that. Goodman wanted to review the case, and there were a couple of other matters."
"So Goodman's still involved?"
"Goodman is my boss right now, Sam. I have to report to him if I want to keep my job. I know you hate him, but he's very concerned about you and your case. Believe it or not, he does not want to see you gassed."
"I don't hate him anymore."
"Why the change of heart?"
"I don't know. When you get this close to death, you do a lot of thinking."
Adam was anxious to hear more, but Sam let it pass. Adam watched him smoke and tried not to think about Joe Lincoln. He tried not to think of Sam's father being beaten in a drunken brawl at a funeral, and he tried to ignore all the other miserable stories Lee had told him in Ford County. He tried to block these things from his mind, but he couldn't.
He had promised her he would not mention any more nightmares from the past. "I guess you've heard about our latest defeat," he said as he pulled papers from his briefcase.
"It didn't take long, did it?"
"No. A rather quick loss, but I've already appealed to the Fifth Circuit."
"I've never won in the Fifth Circuit."
"I know. But we can't select our review court at-this point."
"What can we do at this point?"
"Several things. I bumped into the governor last Tuesday after a meeting with the federal judge. He wanted to talk in private. He gave me his private phone numbers and invited me to call and talk about the case. Said he had doubts about the extent of your guilt."
Sam glared at him. "Doubts? He's the only reason I'm here. He can't wait to see me executed."
"You're probably right, but - "
"You promised not to talk to him. You signed an agreement with me expressly prohibiting any contact with that fool."
"Relax, Sam. He grabbed me outside the judge's office."
"I'm surprised he didn't call a press conference to talk about it."
"I threatened him, okay. I made him promise not to talk."
"Then you're the first person in history to silence that bastard."
"He's open to the idea of clemency."
"He told you this?"
"Yes."
"Why? I don't believe it."
"I don't know why, Sam. And I don't really care. But how can it hurt? What's the danger in requesting a clemency hearing? So he gets his picture in the paper. So the TV cameras chase him around some more. If there's a chance he'll listen, then why should you care if he gets some mileage from it?"
"No. The answer is no. I will not authorize you to request a clemency hearing. Hell no. A thousand times no. I know him, Adam. He's trying to suck you into his game plan. It's all a sham, a show for the public. He'll grieve over this until the very end, milking it for all he can. He'll get more attention than I will, and it's my execution."
"So what's the harm?"
Sam slapped the table with the palm of his hand. "Because it won't do any good, Adam! He will not change his mind."
Adam scribbled something on a legal pad and let a moment pass. Sam eased back in his seat, and lit another cigarette. His hair was still wet and he combed it back with his fingernails.
Adam placed his pen on the table and looked at his client. "What do you want to do, Sam? Quit? Throw in the towel? You think you know so damned much law, tell me what you want to do."
"Well, I've been thinking about it."
"I'm sure you have."
"The lawsuit on its way to the Fifth Circuit has merit, but it doesn't look promising. There's not much left, as I see things."
"Except Benjamin Keyes."
"Right. Except Keyes. He did a fine job for me at trial and on appeal, and he was almost a friend. I hate to go after him."
"It's standard in death cases, Sam. You always go after the trial lawyer and claim ineffective assistance of counsel. Goodman told me he wanted to do it, but you refused. It should've been done years ago."
"He's right about that. He begged me to do it, but I said no. I guess it was a mistake."
Adam was on the edge of his seat taking notes. "I've studied the record, and I think Keyes made a mistake when he didn't put you on the stand to testify."
"I wanted to talk to the jury, you know. I think I've already told you that. After Dogan testified, I thought it was essential for me to explain to the jury that I did in fact plant the bomb, but there was no intent to kill anyone. That's the truth, Adam. I didn't intend to kill anyone."
"You wanted to testify, but your lawyer said no."