David Kessler - Mercy

Alex was touched by Juanita’s compassion. The fact of the matter was they all knew that Clayton Burrow was a rapist as well as a bully who had made Dorothy’s life a misery and who had beaten up her younger brother when he tried to defend his sister. In his youth he had been a truly repulsive character and, whatever suffering he was going through now, it was hard to escape the view that he had brought it on himself one way or another.

And yet … he was still a human being and they couldn’t abandon him. Not because it was their job, not because there was kudos and prestige in saving a man from the death penalty, but because he was a human being and in the years during which he had been under the threat of death, he had changed in some way to become some semblance of a decent person.

“Look, I don’t expect you guys to hang round here,” said Alex slowly. “You can go home.”

Juanita gave Alex a pained look.

“But what if they send a fax through from London?”

Alex shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“But what if it does?” Juanita persisted.

“Okay, look, I’m not telling you to go home. I’m simply saying that you don’t have to stay … either of you.”

“I’m staying!” said Juanita, flatly.

“Nat?”

Nat looked up and met Alex’s eyes.

“I’ll stay too. But I need to do something first. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Alex smiled. Juanita had been right — not with her original suspicions but with the explanation she gave afterward. Nat was trying to get the information from the medical center by pretending to be Dorothy’s legal representative. He couldn’t do it in front of them because it was unethical and could get Alex disbarred. So instead, he was going to stick his neck out and put his own career on the line. He was the same fiery idealist that he had been when he first badgered Alex into giving him a job. He still had that youthful passion that had so impressed Alex.

The trouble was that Alex was not sure if he should allow him to do it. True, they had a client on death row who was just three hours away from execution yet probably innocent. And for an innocent client facing death, a decent lawyer should be ready to go the extra mile. But breaking the law by misrepresentation was a serious matter. What good would it do him to save one innocent man if he lost the capacity to save anyone else thereafter? That was why as a lawyer he could go so far but no further. He could bend the rules but not break them.

And letting Nat go off on his own so that he could contact the medical center and misrepresent himself as Dorothy’s lawyer was bending the rules right the way round.

But what of Nat himself? What if he was caught? Should he lose his budding career for Clayton Burrow? Did Clayton Burrow deserve that much help? Hadn’t Clayton Burrow done enough damage?

But at the end of the day, it was Nat’s decision.

“Okay,” said Alex. “You do what you have to do.”

Jonathan was eating a microwave dinner. He knew that he had plenty of time, but he wanted to get to San Quentin early. The place would be crawling with reporters and it might take a long time to get in and he didn’t want to get held up.

It had been a roller-coaster day for him, first hearing the news about the governor’s offer, then seeing the news, before visiting Alex Sedaka and talking to Juanita.

In some ways he felt that he could no longer hate Clayton Burrow. Yes, Burrow was a bastard. Yes, he had deserved to suffer. But it was almost as if he had suffered enough — as if his execution would be an anti-climax. Jonathan still felt the anger that he had felt toward him nine years ago. But somehow he couldn’t experience it with quite the same intensity.

Time heals every wound, so they say.

The phone rang.

“Hallo.”

“Hi, Jonathan.”

Jonathan froze.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in my car.”

“You’re calling me on a cell phone.”

“It’s okay, I’ll keep it brief. Look, everything’s going okay, but from what I’ve been told, someone is getting too close.”

“Who?”

“Alex Sedaka’s son, David.”

“What’s his son got to do with it?”

“He’s a computer geek at Berkeley. He’s got hold of the computer and he’s been reading the wiped files using a scanning tunneling microscope.”

“Oh I know that.”

“You do?”

“Yes, Sedaka told me. But what can he find?”

“I don’t know. I’m probably worrying over nothing. It’s been such a long time. But he’s found quite a lot already.”

“Is there any way we can stop him?”

“Only by getting the computer.”

“You know, I don’t understand you, boss.”

Alex and Juanita were sitting in the reception area with mugs of coffee.

“How do you mean?”

“Well you don’t want to pretend to the London clinic that we represent Dorothy, to get them to send the paperwork from when she was there, but you’re ready to get a burglar to break into someone’s house to check him out — even though you trust Nat now.”

“Christ, I forgot all about that!”

Alex went for the phone and started keying in a number.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to call it off!”

“But I thought you wanted to be sure?”

“I am sure! It’s obvious that Nat’s going to call the medical center again. He just doesn’t want us to know. Or rather he doesn’t want me to know. He doesn’t want to compromise my position … Damn it! Straight to voicemail. Kelly’s probably switched it off.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I guess he doesn’t want his phone going off when he’s doing a burglary.”

“I notice you dodged my question — about the irony of the situation.”

“I guess it’s a case of the exposure risk.”

“I thought you said the exposure risk was low in the case of what Nat’s doing.”

“It is. But it would be like a time bomb ticking away — or like the sword of Damocles. That’s an old Greek legend about — ”

“I know what the sword of Damocles was!”

“Sorry,” said Alex, blushing.

“You’d better try again,” said Juanita. “Calling Lee, I mean.”

Her tone was muted by guilt … or was it fear?

The light was ebbing and the area round the lab was deserted. The front entrance was locked. Jonathan could press the button and ask to be admitted, but then he would be challenged for ID. He could try forcing an entry. But that would only set off an alarm and alert others long before he had the chance to do what he had come there for.

There was, however, one other way he could gain access. He knew that the fire exits were sometimes left open. In theory they were locked from the inside and could be opened with a handle mechanism inside the door. They were also supposed to close automatically behind people when they left that way. But in practice, the mechanism to close them didn’t always work properly. The doors closed, but they didn’t always click shut. And they had such exits on every floor by the fire stairs.

The area by the fire stairs at the back was used as a small parking lot. The dumpsters were also there. But people didn’t really hang round there and people who were leaving for the day would hardly waste time if they happened to look up and chance upon the sight of a man walking up — rather than down — the outside fire stairs.

So he knew it would be perfectly safe to enter the building that way.

He tried the fire door on the ground floor, but it was locked. The same was true on the first floor and the second. But it was open on the third. That was all he needed.