“Dammit, why now? After all this time?”
“Harms received a letter from the Army. He referenced it in the paper he filed. Maybe that jogged his memory. I can tell you that up to now he either didn’t remember what happened, or he’s been keeping it inside for the last twenty-five years.”
“Why would he do that? And why in the hell would the Army be sending him anything after all this time?”
“I don’t know,” Rayfield said nervously. He actually did know. The reason had been referenced in Rufus’s court petition. But Rayfield was going to keep that card hidden for now.
“And of course you don’t have this mysterious letter from the Army, do you?”
“No. I mean, not yet.”
“It must be in his cell, although I can’t imagine how it slipped through.” The voice was again accusatory.
“Sometimes I think the guy’s a magician,” said Rayfield.
“Has he had any other visitors?”
“Just his brother, Josh Harms. He comes about once a month.”
“And what about Rufus?”
“Looks like he’s just about bought it. Stroke or heart attack. Even if he makes it, he probably won’t be the same.”
“Where is he?”
“En route to the hospital in Roanoke.”
“Why the hell did you let him out?”
“The doc ordered it. He has an obligation to save the man’s life, prisoner or not. If I overruled him, don’t you think it would raise suspicion?”
“Well, keep on top of it, and pray his heart blows up. And if it doesn’t, make it.”
“Come on, who’d believe him?”
“You might be surprised. This Michael Fiske? He’s the only other one who knows, besides Rider?”
“That’s right. At least I think so. He came here to check out Harms’s story. Didn’t tell anybody — at least that’s what he told Harms. We caught a big break there,” Rayfield said. “I gave him the song and dance about Harms being a chronic jailhouse lawyer. I think he bought it. We got leverage because he could get in big trouble for being here. I don’t think he’s going to let the appeal go through.”
The voice on the other end went up a few decibels. “Are you nuts? Fiske isn’t going to have a choice in the matter.”
“He’s a Supreme Court clerk, for chrissakes. I heard him tell Harms.”
“I know that. I damn well know that. But let me tell you exactly what you’re going to do. You’re going to take care of Fiske and Rider. And you’re going to do it pronto.”
Rayfield paled. “You want me to kill a Supreme Court clerk and a local lawyer? Come on, they don’t have any proof of this. They can’t hurt us.”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know what was in the letter from the Army. You don’t know what new information Fiske or Rider might have found out in the interim. And Rider’s been practicing law for thirty years. He wouldn’t have filed something he thought was frivolous, not with the damn Supreme Court. And maybe you’re not aware of this, but Supreme Court clerks aren’t exactly dummies. Fiske didn’t drive all the way down there because he thought Harms was a lunatic. From what you told me, the contents of the letters were very specific on what happened in that stockade.”
“They were,” Rayfield conceded.
“So there you are. But that’s not the biggest hole in all this. Remember, Harms isn’t a jailhouse lawyer. He’s never filed anything else in court. If Fiske checks out your claim, he’ll find out you lied. And when Fiske does that — and I have to believe he will — then everything blows up.”
“It’s not like I had a lot of time to think up a plan,” Rayfield said hotly.
“I’m not saying otherwise. But by lying to him, you just made him a big liability. And we have yet another problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Everything Harms said in his appeal happens to be true. Did you forget that? The truth is funny. You start looking here and there and all of a sudden the wall of lies starts to topple over. Guess where it’s going to land? Do you really want to take that chance? Because when that wall comes down, the only place you’re going to be retiring to is Fort Jackson. And this time on the other side of the prison cell door. That sound good to you, Frank?”