“The Federal Witness Protection Program,” Kaiser clarifies. “I’m sure you’ve seen shows about it on TV. Nod if you know what I’m talking about.”

It’s as though the man inhabiting the body across the table from Kaiser has dropped down some hole of pain and grief from which he might never emerge. I’ve seen this before, and Kaiser has, too. In normal circumstances, you send the guy back to his cell and give him time to adjust to the new reality, but thankfully Kaiser seems to understand that, on this day, we don’t have that time.

With slow deliberation, the FBI agent leans across the table and speaks just above a whisper. “Do you want to die in prison, Sonny? Do you want to ride the needle?”

“It don’t matter,” Sonny croaks. “I’m dead either way. All I care about now is my family.”

“What if we could protect your family too?” Kaiser asks.

Thornfield slowly looks up, his desolate eyes now alive with a glimmer of hope. “All of them?”

It’s all-or-nothing time, and Kaiser knows it. “You’ve got one daughter and two grandkids. Right?”

Sonny nods quickly, surprised by Kaiser’s knowledge. “My grandson’s got a baby on the way. A boy.”

“Where do they live, Sonny?”

“My daughter lives in Oklahoma. Her girl lives there, too. But my grandson’s in the service, been going back and forth to Iraq.”

“Is he stateside now?”

“He’s just about to ship out for another rotation. He’s in California.”

“That’s everybody?”

“Everybody I care about. Or that cares about me.”

“Do you think they would be willing to enter witness protection? Would they change their identities in order to protect you from retaliation? Or to protect themselves?”

Thornfield sighs wearily. “I don’t know. My daughter and me have had some hard words between us. She don’t like me much. You’d have to talk to her.”

“She has a phone, right?”

Sonny shakes his head. “We’re not doing this by phone. No way, no how. You gotta bring ’em here. Use a phone, and Forrest would know about it before you could say ‘boo.’”

Kaiser looks exasperated. “We’re the FBI, Sonny. We have some very secure communications gear.”

Sonny snorts. “Says you. No, you want a deal with me, you bring my kids here.”

“It would be tomorrow at the soonest before we could do that. Do you really want to go back into the cellblock with your Double Eagle buddies?”

The old Klansman laughs again. “Man, I been living with them guys my whole life. I reckon I can make one more night. But if you get my grandson and granddaughter here, and lemme talk to ’em, I believe they’ll do it. My grandson don’t want to do that last rotation. Not with that baby on the way. He’s afraid he’ll catch a packet this time.”

Kaiser gets to his feet and stares down at the old man, his eyes like lasers. “If I do this, Sonny, it will cost the taxpayers a lot of money. Millions of dollars over the years. Before I can commit to that, you have to convince me I’m not wasting that money.”

Sonny looks up at the FBI agent, his face as sincere as any child’s. “You protect my family, mister, and I’ll do whatever I gotta do to keep them safe. I swear.”

Kaiser’s gaze hasn’t wavered. “I’m afraid I need you to be more specific than that. I need you to convince me, Sonny. I need you to tell me what you know.”

The old man shakes his head. “I can’t do that till you live up to your end of the deal. You keep your promise, I’ll keep mine. Ain’t that how it works?”

This stumps Kaiser for a bit. He stares at Thornfield for several seconds, then looks up at the window and motions for me to come in. I dart to the door before Kaiser can second-guess himself. As I enter the interrogation room, Sonny’s eyes go wide in panic, but Kaiser quickly reassures him.

“Mayor Cage is only here to observe, Sonny.”

“I don’t know where Dr. Cage is at!” he cries. “I told you!”

“We know that,” Kaiser says, signaling me to keep my distance. He sits again, then says, “I tell you what. I’m going to mention some crimes, and I want you to nod if you know who’s responsible for them. Okay?”

The old man’s cheek twitches. He looks like a retiree suspicious of a loan officer’s pitch. “I guess.”

“First and foremost, the Double Eagle murders. I’m talking about Pooky Wilson, Albert Norris, Joe Louis Lewis, Jimmy Revels, Luther Davis—”

“You already know who killed Albert and Pooky,” Sonny breaks in. “That was in the paper yesterday morning. Brody Royal was behind that.”

Kaiser nods. “But the Double Eagles did the dirty work. What about Jimmy and Luther? And Joe Louis Lewis, the busboy?”

After several seconds of hesitation, Sonny nods once.

Kaiser turns to me, his eyes glinting with excitement, but I feel like throwing up. We’re nowhere close to saving my father, assuming Dad’s still breathing.

“Okay,” says Kaiser. “Let’s move forward in time a bit. How much do you know about Forrest Knox?”

The old man starts shaking his head before Kaiser can get the whole name out.

“Come on, Sonny. I already know a lot about him. I know he started taking part in Eagle operations when he was a teenager, and I know he was party to some of the worst crimes. But I’m just as interested in his present-day drug business, and also his activities during Hurricane Katrina. Can you link him to that?”

Thornfield looks surprised by the extent of Kaiser’s knowledge. “Would I have to testify in court?”

“Probably so, yes.”

Sonny closes his eyes like a man asked to confront Satan incarnate. “I ain’t saying shit about Forrest, man. Not until me and my family are safe and living under new names.”

Kaiser grimaces, then tries another tack. “I know Forrest means to take over the state police. What about his ties to the power brokers in Baton Rouge and New Orleans? Can you identify any of the people he’s been dealing with in that regard?”

Thornfield rakes his wrinkled hand over his chin, but then he shakes his head. “Nothing about Forrest. Not until the deal is done. Don’t waste your breath.”

“All right, then. Let’s talk about Dallas.”

Sonny blinks as if he doesn’t understand the word. “Dallas?”

“Yeah. President Kennedy. Dealey Plaza.”

Sonny shakes his head as if he’s clueless.

Kaiser smiles as if in appreciation of good entertainment. “Come on, Sonny. I know all about Frank drawing the three K’s in the sand on the sandbar. The day he founded the Double Eagles? I know about Carlos Marcello. I know about the Rose Garden photo and the red circles. JFK, RFK, MLK? Right?”

Sonny’s eyes have gone wide. “Where’d you hear that? Did Glenn Morehouse tell you that?”

“He told Henry Sexton.”

“Jesus. Glenn really lost it at the end, didn’t he?”

“He couldn’t live with himself anymore. Can you blame him?”

Thornfield shrugs sullenly.

“Tell me about Dallas, Sonny. About Frank.”

The old man looks cagey now. “How much does it mean to you?”

Kaiser cuts his eyes at me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . if I could tell you who killed Kennedy, would that be enough to get my family federal protection without going to court against Forrest?”

“Fuck, no,” I snap. “Tell him, John!”

Kaiser holds up his hand to silence me.

“Ask him who killed Viola,” I bark, moving toward the table. “He knows that much, and there’s not one reason he can’t tell you right now.”

“Stay over there, Penn,” Kaiser orders. “Or get out.”

I force myself to stop and back up a couple of steps. I don’t want Kaiser to have me removed before Sonny says something I can use.

“What about that, Sonny?” Kaiser asks. “Do you know who killed Nurse Turner?”

Sonny cuts his eyes at me, then looks back at Kaiser and gives a slight nod.

“I want a name,” Kaiser says.

Thornfield shakes his head.

At last Kaiser sighs in frustration. “Compared to what you say you know, that’s nothing, Sonny. If you don’t give me that name, you’re not getting any deal at all. As of now, naming Viola’s killer is the price of me calling your family.”