The Simple Truth

Its my fault theyre dead. For trying to help me. And Riders wife, she didnt know nothing about any of this.

You didnt ask that Fiske boy to come down to the prison.

But I asked Samuel. Hed be alive except for me.

He owed you, Rufus. Why you think he came on down in the first place? He felt guilty. He knew he didnt fight hard for you back then. He was trying to make up for that.

Hes still dead, aint he? Because of me.

Supposing thats true, you cant do nothing about it.

Rufus looked over at him. I can make sure they didnt die for nothing. Them folks took most of my life away. And now they took these other peoples lives. You say well be okay in Mexico, but they aint never go

The Army catches up with us before the police do, theyll damn sure keep firing till their mags are empty, Josh agreed. He pulled out his Pall Malls and lit up, blowing smoke across the room. Well, I can shoot straight too. Theyll know they been in a damn fight if they dont know nothing else.

Rufus shook his head stubbornly. Nobody should be able to get away with what they done.

Josh flicked cigarette ash to the floor and stared at him. Well, exactly what are you go

I need to get me that letter from the Army.

Whered you leave it?

I hid it back in my cell.

Well, we aint going back to the prison. You try to do that, Ill shoot you myself.

I aint going back to Fort Jackson.

What, then?

Samuel was a lawyer. Lawyers make copies of things.

Josh arched his eyebrows. You wanta go to Riders office?

We got to, Josh.

Josh smoked his Pall Mall down to the filter before answering. Iaint got to do nothing, Rufus. The whole damn United States Army is out looking for your ass. And mine too. You cant exactly melt into the crowd. Hell, youd make George Foreman look like a damn sissy.

We still got to do it, Josh. Least I got to do it. If I can get that letter, then maybe I can get it to somebody who can help. Maybe write another letter to the Court.

Yeah, look at all the good it done you last time. Them big-ass judges just come ru

It dont matter if you dont want to come, Josh. But I got to do it.

What about Mexico? Damn, Rufus, you free. For now. We try poking around this thing, they go

I want to be free. But I cant leave it like this. I go to Mexico now and Ill die of guilt, if the Lord dont strike me down before then.

Guilt? You done twenty-five years for nothing. When you die you going to heaven and you go

No good, Josh. You aint changing my mind.

Josh spit again and looked out the dirty, cracked window. You sonofabitchin crazy. Prisons screwed you for good. Damn!

Maybe I am crazy.

Josh glared at him. Where the hell is Riders office?

About thirty minutes outside Blacksburg. Thats all I know. Shouldnt be hard to find out where it is exactly.

Probably crawling with cops.

Maybe not, if they think Samuel done it all.

Shit. Josh violently kicked the wall and then turned to his brother. Okay, well wait until nightfall and then head on out.

Thanks, Josh.

Dont thank me for helping us both get killed. That kind of thanks I surely dont want.

["C36"]CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The flag at the United States Supreme Court was flying at half-mast. Newspaper, TV and radio reports nationwide were filled with accounts of the two murdered clerks. The phones in the Courts Public Information Office refused to stop ringing. The adjoining press room was standing room only. Major TV and radio networks were broadcasting live from booths on the ground floor of the Court. Supreme Court police, reinforced by fifty D.C. police officers, National Guardsmen and FBI agents, ringed the Courts perimeter. The private hallways outside the justiceschambers were filled with clusters of people nervously talking. Most of the justices were secluded inside their chambers, having barely made it through the oral argument sessions, their minds far from the advocates and issues before them. The young faces of the law clerks too bore the terror inspired by the killings. The small first-floor room normally used for the justices conferences was filled. The walls were dark-paneled and lined with bookshelves containing the bound volumes of two hundred years of the Courts decisions. Another wall held a fireplace, unlit on this very warm day. A grand chandelier hung overhead. Ramsey sat at the head of the table. Justices Knight and Murphy sat in their regular chairs. While Knights gaze darted around the table, Murphy, fiddling with an old pocket watch strung on a chain across his puffy middle, kept his eyes downcast. Also present were Chandler, Fiske, Perkins, Ron Klaus, and McKe

He kept a map in here, always did. He had this weird fear of getting lost. Had to plot out his whole trip before he set foot on the road. Theres no map here, but there is this. He held up a couple of yellow Post-its that he had found wadded up at the bottom of the seat pocket. There was writing on them, names of interstates and roads directions, given the faded condition of the ink, from some trip taken long ago. Chandler looked at the pieces of yellow paper. So why take the map book?

He wouldve had the directions to wherever he was going in there.

So the miles had something to do with his death.

Fiske hesitated for a moment, debating whether to tell Chandler about the Harms filing. Revealing that information would open a can of worms that he didnt want to deal with right now. Maybe, he finally said. After that, he and Chandler had driven to the Court. Now they were all in the conference room staring at each other. Without disclosing how he had come by the information, Chandler had just reported that there had been an intruder at Michael Fiskes apartment the night before.

Were in your hands, Detective Chandler, Ramsey said. Although now I think it much more likely that we have some madman at work with a grudge against the Court, rather than it pertaining to some matter Michael was working on.

McKe