Читать книгу Mercy - David Kessler - Страница 17

When they arrived at San Quentin, Alex again went in alone, while Nat waited in the car. He had been in many prisons before, but never in death row—not even the relatively calm North Segregation block.

‘It’s just too depressing,’ was all he had offered by way of explanation.

‘What are you talking about?’ Alex had responded. ‘It’s just like the rest of the prison.’

‘No, it isn’t. Not to me. It has…I can’t explain it. It’s like the place has the smell of death about it.’

Alex had found this attitude incomprehensible.

‘How do you expect to work as a lawyer on cases of your own if you’re afraid that you can’t compartmentalize your emotions?’

Nat had just shaken his head and turned away, as if struggling to contain those emotions.

‘I can’t do it,’ Nat had almost cried. ‘Not yet.’

Alex remained mystified but realized that he had to accept it. Whatever psychological baggage Nat was carrying, he couldn’t shake it off and wasn’t ready to share it with anyone else.

So on this case at least, Nat was functioning as little more than a driver. It was hardly a way to get ahead in his chosen profession. But in fairness to Nat, he had done a lot of background research. You couldn’t fault him for effort or enthusiasm. If Nat needed to keep Burrow at a distance to maintain that enthusiasm, then so be it.

It took a few minutes to process Alex through security. But it seemed to be getting quicker. They knew Alex now and he knew the drill, so less had to be explained to him about what he could and couldn’t bring in. Also, as the execution date drew near, they realized the urgency of these meetings and there was an element of sympathy for even the basest and most evil of murderers. Years on death row humbled and mellowed a man and even those prison guards who believed most strongly in capital punishment were ready to admit that by the time the condemned man is about to meet his maker, he is a very different man to the one who was sentenced to that fate.

Whatever they said about capital punishment being the ultimate individual deterrent, it was a punishment that eliminated the need for itself. It was living in the shadow of death that reformed a man’s character, not death itself. But for collective deterrence, the death penalty served no purpose, Alex felt. But there were others who were all too ready to argue the point.

When Alex was finally in the cell with Clayton Burrow, the condemned man appeared to be struggling to read the lawyer’s face.

‘What did he say?’ asked Burrow, a tremor of fear creeping into his voice.

‘It’s kind of complicated,’ Alex replied hesitantly.

‘What do you mean?’

Burrow’s breathing was heavy, as if not daring to hope.

‘He’s offering you clemency—but it’s conditional.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means he’s ready to commute your sentence to life if you ’fess up.’

‘That’s it?’ said Burrow, letting the air out of his lungs.

‘No, there’s one more thing. You’ve got to reveal where you buried the body.’

The smile vanished from the condemned man’s face.

‘Fuck it!’ yelled Burrow, pounding his left palm with his right fist. ‘Goddamn fuck it!’

Alex looked at his client, puzzled.

‘Why, what’s the matter?’

‘I can’t do it! I can’t fuckin’ do it!’