Читаем A time to kill полностью

share, and even in the ones they lost they usually managed to keep the convicts alive through a myriad of exhausting delays and appeals. Four of his former clients had either been gassed, electrocuted, or lethally injected, and that was four too many for Reinfeld. He had watched them all die, and with each execution he renewed his vow to break any law, violate any ethic, contempt any court, disrespect any judge, ignore any mandate, or do whatever it took to prevent a human from legally killing another human. He didn't worry much about the illegal killings of humans, such as those killings so artfully and cruelly achieved by his clients. It wasn't his business to think about those killings, so he didn't. Instead he vented his righteous and sanctimonious anger and zeal at the legal killings.

He seldom slept more than three hours a night. Sleep was difficult with thirty-one clients on death row. Plus seventeen clients awaiting trial. Plus eight egotistical attorneys to supervise. He was thirty and looked forty-five. He was old, abrasive, and ill-tempered. In the normal course of his business, he would have been much too busy to attend a gathering of local black ministers in Clanton, Mississippi. But this was not the normal case. This was Hailey. The vigilante. The father driven to revenge. The most famous criminal case in the country at the moment. This was Mississippi, where for years whites shot blacks for any reason or no reason and no one cared; where whites raped blacks and it was considered sport; where blacks were hanged for fighting back. And now a black father had killed two white men who raped his daughter, and faced the gas chamber for something that thirty years earlier would have gone unnoticed had he been white. This was the case, his case, and he would handle it personally.

On Monday he was introduced to the council by Reverend Agee, who opened the meeting with a lengthy and detailed review of the activities in Ford County. Reinfeld was brief. He and his team could not represent Mr. Hailey because he had not been hired by Mr. Hailey, so a meeting was imperative. Today, preferably. Tomorrow morning at the latest, because he had a flight out of Memphis at noon. He was needed in a murder trial somewhere in Georgia. Reverend Agee promised to arrange a meeting with the defendant as

soon as possible. He was friends with the sheriff. Fine, said Reinfeld, just get it done.

"How much money have you raised?" Reinfeld asked.

"Fifteen thousand from you folks," Agee answered.

"I know that. How much locally?"

"Six thousand," Agee said proudly.

"Six thousand!" repeated Reinfeld. "Is that all? I thought you people were organized. Where's all this great local support you were talking about? Six thousand! How much more can you raise? We've only got three weeks."

The council members were silent. This Jew had a lot of nerve. The only white man in the group and he was on the attack.

"How much do we need?" asked Agee.

"That depends, Reverend, on how good a defense you want for Mr. Hailey. I've only got eight other attorneys on my staff. Five are in trial at this very moment. We've got thirty-one capital murder convictions at various stages of appeal. We've got seventeen trials scheduled in ten states over the next five months. We get ten requests each week to represent defendants, eight of which we turn down because we simply don't have the staff or the money. For Mr. Hailey, fifteen thousand has been contributed by two local chapters and the home office. Now you tell me that only six thousand has been raised locally. That's twenty-one thousand. Fpr that amount you'll get the best defense we can afford. Two attorneys, at least one psychiatrist, but nothing fancy. Twenty-one thousand gets a good defense, but not what I had in mind."

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

"A first-class defense. Three or four attorneys. A battery of psychiatrists. Half dozen investigators. A jury psychologist, just to name a few. This is not your run-of-the-mill murder case. I want to win. I was led to believe that you folks wanted to win."

"How much?" asked Agee.

"Fifty thousand, minimum. A hundred thousand would be nice."

"Look, Mr. Reinfeld, you're in Mississippi. Our people are poor. They've given generously so far, but there's no way we can raise another thirty thousand here."

Reinfeld adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses and

scratched his graying beard. "How much more can you raise?"

"Another five thousand, maybe."

"That's not much money."

"Not to you, but it is to the black folk of Ford County."

Reinfeld studied the floor and continued stroking his beard. "How much has the Memphis chapter given?"

"Five thousand," answered someone from Memphis.

"Atlanta?"

"Five thousand."

"How about the state chapter?"

"Which state?"

"Mississippi."

"None."

"None?"

"None."

"Why not?"

"Ask him," Agee said, pointing at Reverend Henry Hillman, the state director.

"Uh, we tryin' to raise some money now," Hillman said weakly. "But-"

"How much have you raised so far?" asked Agee.