Alex Cross's Trial

exaggerating the problem. Northerners do that all the time. Of course I had heard of lynchings, but I hadn’t known of any in Mississippi since I was a boy.

    “They hang men, they hang women, for God’s sake they even hang young children,” Roosevelt said. “They do the most unspeakable things to their bodies, Ben.”

    I didn’t say a word. How could I? He was talking about my hometown.

    “I’ve tried discussing the matter with several southern senators. To a man, they claim it’s the work of outsiders and a fringe element of white reprobates. But I know damn well it’s the Klan, and in some of these towns that includes just about every respectable white man.”

    “But Colonel,” I said, “the Klan was outlawed forty years ago.”

    “Yes. And apparently it’s stronger than ever now. That’s why you’re here, Captain.”

    Chapter 14

    I WAS GLAD when Roosevelt reached for the decanter again. This talk of the sins of my fellow southerners had me upset, even a little angry.

    “Colonel, I haven’t spent much time down home since I finished law school,” I said cautiously. “But I’d be surprised if there’s a problem in Eudora. Folks there generally treat the Negroes well.”

    When he spoke, his voice was gentle. “Open your eyes, Ben. Since April there have been two men and a fifteen-year-old boy allegedly lynched within a few miles of your hometown. It’s on the way to becoming a goddamn epidemic, and I—”

    “Excuse me, sir. Sorry to interrupt. You said ‘allegedly’?”

    “Excellent! You’re paying attention!” He thwacked my knee with the portfolio. “In this file you’ll see letter after letter, report after report, from congressmen, judges, mayors, governors. Nearly every one tells me the lynching reports are greatly exaggerated. There are no lynchings in their towns or districts. The Negro is living in freedom and comfort, and the white southerner is his boon friend and ally.”

    I nodded. I didn’t want to admit that had I been asked, that would have been very much like my own estimate of the situation.

    “But that is not the story I’m hearing from certain men of conscience,” he said. “I need to know the truth . I’m glad you don’t automatically believe what I’m telling you, Ben. I want a man with an open mind, an honest and skeptical man like yourself who can see all sides of the question. I want you to go down there and investigate, and get to the bottom of this.”

    “But sir, what is it you want me to find out? Exactly what?”

    “Answer these questions for me,” he said.

    “Are lynchings as common a fact of life as I think they are?

    “Is the Ku Klux Klan alive and thriving down there, and if so, who is behind the outrageous resurgence?

    “What in hell is the truth—the absolute truth? And what can a president do to stop these awful things from happening?”

    He barked these questions at me in the same high, sharp voice I recalled from the parade ground in Havana. His face was flushed red, full of righteous anger and determination.

    Then, softly, he asked, “Will you do it for me, and for this country, Ben?”

    I did not hesitate. How could I? “Of course, I am at your service. I’ll do what you ask.”

    “Bully! When can you go?”

    “Well, sir, I do have a trial beginning next week in the circuit court,” I said.

    “Leave the judge’s name with Mr. Hensen. We’ll take care of it. I want you in Mississippi as soon as possible.”

    He clapped his hand on my shoulder as he walked me to the door. From the breast pocket of his jacket he removed a folded scrap of paper, which he handed to me.

    “This is the name of a man who will assist you down there. I believe he’ll be able to open your eyes to the way your good people of Eudora have been treating their colored citizens.”

    “Yes, sir.” I tucked it away.

    “One more thing…”

    “Sir?”

    “I must have secrecy. A cover story has been arranged for you: you’re in Mississippi to interview possible federal judges. If your real mission is exposed, I will deny that I had anything to do with your trip. And Ben, this could be dangerous for you. The Klan murders people—clearly.”

    In the outer office I gave the judge’s name to Mr. Hensen, then walked down the steps of the North Portico to the curving driveway. To be honest, I hoped some friend or acquaintance might happen along and witness my emergence from that famous house, but no such luck.

    I stepped out onto Pennsylvania Avenue and turned toward my office. I would have to work late