Could you check and see if theres any case at the Court with the name Harms as one of the parties?

The clerk nodded and started tapping buttons. After about a minute he shook his head.

Im not finding anything. When was it filed?

Recently. Within the last couple of weeks or so.

Ive gone back six months theres nothing coming up. Didnt you ask me about this a while ago?

Before Sara could answer, another voice spoke.

Did you say Harms?

Sara stared at the other clerk. Yes. Harms was the last name.

Thats strange.

Saras skin started to tingle. What?

I got a call early this morning from a man asking about an appeal and he used that name. I told him we didnt have any case filing with that name.

Harms? Youre sure? The clerk nodded. How about a first name? Sara asked, trying to suppress her excitement. The clerk thought a moment.

Maybe starting with anR? Sara prompted. The clerk snapped his fingers. Thats right. Rufus, Rufus Harms. Sounds like a hick.

Did the caller identify himself?

No. He got pretty upset.

Anything else you can remember?

The man thought a bit longer. He said something about the guy rotting in a stockade, whatever that meant.

Saras eyes opened wide and she started to race out.

Whats this all about, Sara? Does this have anything to do with the murders? the clerk asked. Sara kept going without answering. The clerk hesitated for a moment and then looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then he picked up his phone and dialed a number. When it was answered, he spoke quietly into the receiver. Sara almost sprinted up the stairs. The reference to thestockadehad shown her that there was a big hole in Fiskes list. She reached her office, grabbed a card from her Rolodex and dialed the number. She was calling Military Police Operations. Fiske had covered both the federal and state prison populations, but he had not thought of the military. Saras favorite uncle had retired from the Army as a brigadier general. She knew very well what a stockade was: Rufus Harms was a prisoner of the United States Army. She got through to Master Sergeant Dillard, the corrections specialist on duty. I dont have his prison ID number, but I believe hes incarcerated at a military facility within four hundred miles or so of Washington, she said.

I cant give you that information. The official procedure is to send a written request to the deputy chief of staff for operations and plans. Then that department, in turn, will send your request to the Freedom of Information Act people. They may or may not answer your request depending on the circumstances.

The thing is, I really need the information now.

Are you from the media?

No, Im calling from the United States Supreme Court.

Right. How do I know that?

Sara thought for a moment. Call directory assistance for the general number for the Supreme Court. Then call the number they give you and ask for me. My name is Sara Evans.

Dillard sounded skeptical. This is highly unusual.

Please, Sergeant Dillard, its really important.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. Give me a few minutes.

Five very long minutes later the call was put through to Saras phone. You know, Sergeant Dillard, Ive gotten information from your office before about military prisoners without going through the FOIA process.

Well, sometimes the people here are a little generous with the information.

I just want to know where Rufus Harms is, thats all.

Actually, it wouldnt really be a problem with any other prisoner.

I dont understand. Why is Rufus Harms so special?

Havent you been reading your newspaper?

Not today, no, why?

Maybe its not real big news, but the public ought to know, for its own safety if nothing else.

The public ought to know what?

That Rufus Harms escaped. In concise sentences, Dillard filled her in on the details.

Where was he incarcerated?

Fort Jackson.

Where is that?

Dillard told her and Sara wrote down the location.

Now I got a question for you, Ms. Evans. Why is the Supreme Court interested in Rufus Harms?

He filed an appeal with the Court.

What sort of appeal?

Im sorry, Sergeant Dillard, but thats all I can tell you. I have rules to go by too.

All right, but I tell you what. If I were you, Id hold off working on his appeal. The courts arent open to dead people, are they?

Actually, they can be. What exactly did the man do?

Youll have to check his military file.

How do I do that?

Youre a lawyer, arent you?

Yes, but I dont do a lot of work with the military.

She could hear him muttering a bit over the phone.

Since hes a prisoner of the military, Rufus Harms is no longer technically in the United States Army. Along with his conviction he would have been given either a dishonorable or a bad-conduct discharge. His military records would have been sent to the St. Louis Military Personnel Records office. Hard copies are kept there. Its not on a computer database or anything. Harms was convicted about twenty-five years ago, so his records should have been transferred to microfilm, although the personnel office is a little behind on that process. If you or anyone other than Harms wants his records, you have to use a subpoena.

Sara wrote all of this down. Thank you again, Sergeant Dillard, youve been a huge help.

She had map software on her computer. Sara brought the screen up and, using her mouse, drew a distance line from Washington, D.C., to the approximate location of Fort Jackson.

Almost four hundred miles exactly, she said to herself. She hurried upstairs to the Courts third-floor library and went on-line via one of the computer terminals there. None of the law clerks office terminals were connected to phone modems for obvious reasons of security and confidentiality. But the library terminals had on-line access. Using an Internet explorer service she typed in Rufus Harmss name. She looked around at the hand-carved oak paneling as she waited for the computer to sprinkle its technological pixie dust. A few minutes later she was reading all the latest news accounts on Rufus Harms, his background and that of his brother. She printed out all of these. One of the stories had a quote from the newspaper editor in Harmss hometown. Using an Internet telephone directory, she looked up the mans number. He still lived in the same small town near Mobile, Alabama, where both brothers had grown up. The phone was answered after three rings. Sara introduced herself to the man, George Barker, still editor-in-chief of the local paper.

I already talked to the papers about that, he said flatly. His deep southern drawl made Sara think of braying coon dogs and clear jugs of shine. Id appreciate if you could answer a few questions for me, thats all.

Who are you with again?

An independent news service. Im a freelancer.

Well, what exactly do you want to know?

Ive read that Rufus Harms was convicted of killing a young girl on the military base where he was stationed. She glanced at the news accounts she had printed out. Fort Plessy.

Killed a littlewhitegirl. Hes a Negro, you know.

Yes, I know, Sara said curtly. Do you know the name of the attorney who represented him at the trial?

Wasnt really a trial. He did a plea arrangement. I covered the story some, because Rufus was local, sort of the reverse of the local boy makes good.

So you know the name of his attorney?

Well, Id have to look it up. Give me your number and I can call you back.

Evans gave him her home number. If Im not there, just leave it on the answering machine. What else can you tell me about Rufus and his brother?

Well, the most noticeable thing about Rufus was his size. He must have already been six-foot-three by the time he was fourteen. And he wasnt skinny or lanky or anything. He already had a mans body.