Dead In The Water

CHAPTER 60

At four o'clock Stone met Leslie Hewitt at the jail door. "What have you heard?" he asked the barrister. "Is there any word at all?"

"Nothing," Hewitt said, shaking his head. "The prime minister's secretary won't even talk to me now. A policeman answers the phone and says that everyone is too busy to talk."

"Well, at least we've made them busy."

"I had hoped to get some sort of hint from the secretary, at the very least, but there's only silence. He didn't return my phone call."

"You look more worried than I've seen you, Leslie," Stone said.

"I confess, I am worded. I really expected some sort of word by now. We have only until sundown."

"What time is sundown?"

"Seven fifty-nine; I checked. And they always do these things on the minute."

"I've never been through anything like this," Stone said.

"Neither has Allison," Hewitt replied.

They went into the jail and found Hilary Kramer and Jim Forrester waiting at the desk, both looking tense.

"Have you heard anything from the prime minister?" Hilary asked Hewitt.

"Not yet," he replied. "But I expect to soon."

"Are you going to see Allison now?"

"Yes," Stone replied.

"Will you come out and let us know how she's doing? And ask her if she'll see me."

"Maybe a bit later. You, too, Jim?"

Forrester shook his head. "No, I don't want to see her." He turned to Kramer. "I guess I'm not much of a reporter."

Stone and Hewitt were searched, then were walked down the corridor of cells. Stone looked at the stout door at the end, with the small window a good fifteen feet above it. At least the sounds from the inner courtyard had stopped; thank God for that.

Allison was sitting on her bunk, her hair pinhed up, wearing a denim prison shift that exposed her neck. Stone kissed her on the cheek. "How are you?"

"They took away my things," she said. "Even my underwear." She seemed very calm.

"You'll get them back later," Hewitt said. "Don't worry."

"Haven't you heard anything from the prime minister?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Sometimes it's like this," he said, glancing guiltily at Stone. "We might not hear anything until the last minute."

They all sat down-Hewitt in the single chair and Stone and Allison on the bunk. She held up a copy of David Copperfield. "The most exciting thing they had to offer," she said. "It's good, though. I haven't read it since the eighth grade; I'd forgotten how good it is."

"I've had many calls from the press," Stone said. "The prime minister's office is under a lot of pressure."

Allison nodded, but said nothing. Nobody said anything. They sat quietly, each with his own thoughts, for more than an hour.

A jailer appeared at the cell door. "Can I get anything for anybody?" he asked.

"I'd like some water," Allison said.

"I'm sorry; You won't be able to eat or drink from now on. I thought you might like some magazines."

"No, thank you," Allison said, and the man left. "Why won't they let me eat or drink?" she asked.

"I don't know," Hewitt said, before Stone could speak. "They have their silly rules, I suppose."

Another long period of silence ensued, until Stone began to attempt small talk.

"What are you going to do when you get home?" he asked Allison.

"Get the estate wound up, I suppose. I don't really have any plans beyond that. I find it difficult to think about the future right now."

"The fast motor yacht came back and is waiting for you at the marina."

"Good. I certainly don't want to waste any time here when this is over."

He fell silent again, and so did she. Suddenly there was the scrape of a key in the cell door's lock. They had not heard anyone approach down the corridor. A tall black man in a gray suit and a priest's collar stood in the open door.

"Good afternoon, Mrs.Manning," he said gravely. "I am the Reverend John Wills; I thought you might like to speak with me. Are you a Christian?"

"I'm an Episcopalian," she replied. "Yes, do come in."

"Gentlemen," the priest said, "will you excuse us for a while?"

"Of course, Reverend," Hewitt said, then left the cell, motioning for Stone to follow him.

The two men went outside and sat on a bench against the stone wall. "I thought she should be alone with him," Hewitt said.

"Yes," said Stone. He could not think of anything else to say. The sun was lower in the sky now. Stone looked at his watch. "Leslie, it's nearly seven o'clock; could you call the prime minister's residence again?"

"Of course," Hewitt said. He got up and went back inside the jail. As he entered, Hilary Kramer and Jim Forrester came out.

"Stone," she said, "have you still heard nothing?"

"Nothing," Stone replied. "Leslie has gone to phone the prime minister."

They joined Stone on the bench. "This is driving me crazy," Forrester said.

"It's seven o'clock," Kramer said, looking at her watch. "What time is sundown?"

"Seven fifty-nine," Stone replied. "I'm told they do these things on time."

"They're not really going to hang her, Stone, surely," Forrester said, sounding distressed. "This is just sort of torture."

"I don't know what's going to happen," Stone said. "I'm afraid to hope."

Hewitt came back outside.

"What?" Stone said.

"It's very odd," Hewitt replied. "No one is answering the phone."

"Not even an answering machine?"

"Nothing; it just rang and rang. I must have let it ring twenty-five times, then I called again and got the same result."

"Maybe they're on the way over here," Forrester said hopefully.

Nobody cared to address that possibility.

"Did they make you two leave Allison alone?" Kramer asked.

"A priest is with her," Stone replied. "We thought it best to leave them."

As if on cue, the priest came out the door. "Mr.Barrington?"

Stone looked up.

"Mrs.Manning would like to see you and Sir Leslie now."

"How did you leave her, Reverend?" Hewitt asked the man.

"I think her mind is relieved," he replied. "We had quite a good talk, although I don't think she had met with a clergyman for quite some time. She seems resigned now."

Resigned, Stone thought. He wasn't resigned. Why the hell didn't the prime minister's office call and at least put them out of their misery?

The priest spoke again. "Are you Miss Kramer and Mr.Forrester?" he asked the two reporters.

"Yes," Kramer replied.

"She'd like to see you both for a moment; I spoke to the jailer, and he will allow it."

They all got to their feet and went inside, the priest bringing up the rear. The jailer searched Kramer and Forrester, then conducted the group down the corridor.

Forrester stopped. "I can't do this," he said. "I just can't."

"Wait for us outside," Stone said, and Forrester went back down the corridor.

Allison was, sitting on the bunk, reading a Bible that the priest must have given her. She looked up, saw Kramer, and smiled.

"Thank you for coming," she said to her, shaking her hand. "I wanted to tell you how grateful I am to you, Hilary, for the reporting you did in the Times. It meant a great deal to me." She looked toward the door. "Where's Jim?"

Stone spoke up. "He wasn't feeling well; he asked that you excuse him."

Allison nodded.

"You will have to go now," the jailer said to Kramer.

The reporter left, leaving Stone, Hewitt, and the priest with Allison. Stone looked at his watch: seven thirty-five.

Finally, Hewitt spoke. "A phone line at the main desk will be kept free," he said, then he was quiet again.

"Stone," Allison said, "they asked me to fill out a form, giving next of kin and so forth. I gave them your name to handle any formalities."

"Of course," Stone said, "but that's not going to be necessary."

She smiled slightly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time." She smoothed her skirt. "I've also left some instructions with Leslie," she said. "To be opened…" She let the sentance trail off.

"Everything will be done, Allison," Leslie said. "I feel that I have let you down, you know."

"Don't you believe that for a moment," she said. "Both you and Stone have been perfectly wonderful. I could not have been better represented. I really mean that." She put her hand in Stone's.

There was the sound of footsteps in the front hall. Someone, more than one person, had come into the jail. Then it was quiet again. Stone willed himself not to look at his watch, but it was growing dark in the cell. Suddenly, the single are bulb came on, making them blink.

Then, from down the hall, came the sound of men marching in step. Stone looked up to find four policemen standing outside the cell. One of them unlocked the door. At that moment, Stone heard the telephone ring. The policeman closed the door, turned his back, and leaned on it, nodding to another officer, who strode back down the hall. He was gone for half a minute, then returned. He looked at his senior officer and shook his head.

No, Stone thought, no, this can't be. That must have been the prime minister. He stood up. "The phone call?…"

The senior policeman opened the cell door. "Not related to these events," he said. "Mrs. Manning, please step out into the corridor."

Stone made to follow her, but an officer stepped between them. Behind him, another officer was tying Allison's hands behind her back.

"Say your good-byes," the senior officer said to her.

She looked at Stone, panic in her face.

"Allison…" he began, then stopped.

"Good-bye," she said. "You have all been very kind to me." She was trembling, but she did not cry.

Then, simultaneously, a policeman opened the big door to the inner courtyard while another closed the cell door and locked it, with Stone, Hewitt, and the priest still inside.

"I want to, go with her," Stone said, but the officer shook his head.

"No farther," he said.

Stone looked out the door and saw a corner of the scaffold in the gloomy light. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. An officer stood on either side of Allison, took her arm, and marched her into the courtyard. The senior officer slammed the stout door shut behind them.

Stone turned to Leslie Hewitt. "Is there nothing we can do?"

Leslie looked at the floor and shook his head slowly. "We have done all we can."

Stone looked at the priest, who avoided his gaze. Then, sooner than Stone had expected, he heard the sound of the trap flying open, followed by a thunk, then silence. He leaned his forehead against the bars; he felt like weeping, but he could not.

The outside door opened, the senior officer and one other stepped inside, and the door closed behind them. The cell door was unlocked and the three men were waved out and marched down the corridor to the front desk.

Allison's duffel sat on the desk, and an officer waited, pen in hand, for Stone to sign for her belongings. Stone signed. "What about the body?" he asked the man.

"The body will be cremated and the ashes scattered at sea," the officer said. "It's how we do things here."

"It is so," Hewitt said. Stone picked up the duffel and walked out of the jail into a lovely St.Marks evening. Hilary Kramer and Jim Forrester were sitting on a bench next to the outside door. Kramer jumped up. "What's happening? Did you hear from the prime minister?"

Stone shook his head. "No."

Forrester stood up, too. "For Christ's sake, Stone, tell us what's happening?"

"Allison was hanged five minutes ago."

Both reporters seemed struck dumb. Kramer's mouth was working, but nothing came out. Forrester turned, leaned against the building, and vomited.

"You can quote me as saying that a monumental injustice has been done," Stone said.