âWonât you please sit down, sir.â
General Kempton watched Adams shrewdly. The native correspondent nodded his thanks as he gingerly and uncertainly went to the chair and sat down.
The Manchester Guardian correspondent then asked, âWhat is your opinion about the political issues involved here?â
âNo comment on that. None.â Major Gunther appeared pleased to make his firm hand felt âThis is a military trial, and there are no political issues involved.â
âOh, do be a bit flexible,â protested the Guardian man. âOur readers are not concerned with how Winston is defended. They want to know the American attitude toward the murder of a British non-com.â
âThere is no comment on that,â Gunther repeated. âYou know the ground rules here.â
The United Press man said, âGeneral, could you intervene? I think itâs a fair question. It cuts to the core of things. Editorials stateside are calling this a hot potato, not because a man murdered someone, but because an American officer murdered a British non-com.â
âItâs a hell of a broad question.â Kempton smiled. âYou canât just ask oneâs opinion of political issues involved. That covers too much. I think Barney Adams is a damn good lawyer. But heâs not a congressman.â
This fetched a laugh all around. Adamsâ respect for Kempton was increasing. He used his indolent, apparently good-natured bulk cleverly and wellâand gave little indication of what lay beneath it. Yet at the same time there were clues to the man. Angry, he would be dangerous beyond expectation. So Adams thought, telling himself not to underestimate this man, not even to fall into the trap of taking him lightly.
Meanwhile, the native correspondent had come to his feet and was waiting to ask a question. Unlike the others, he did not speak out. He waited to be recognized, to be asked. Gunther ignored him, but Kempton nodded at him and said, âGo ahead, sir.â
âAbout the political consequences,â the man began, his English stilted, strangely accented, âI think that you are right to say that this is a very broad topic. For not only the murderer, but the hangman too, functions in terms of two peoples. My readersââ
Gunther cut in, âIf you have a question, ask it. This is not a forum.â
âI was merely trying to explain, sir, that my readers would ask this questionâis there any justice apart from might? Can there be such justice?â
Gunther hesitated, unsure of himself now that the focus had been narrowed.
General Kempton said, not unkindly, âWho do you direct that at, Captain Adams or myself?â
âCaptain Adams, sir, since he stands for the defense.â
Watching the man, Adams thought again of the different worlds that Kaufman had specified. This man did not stand upright; out of training and habit, his muscles had lost the ability to hold him fully upright in the presence of white men. His knees were bent just a trifle, his shoulders bent just a trifle, his neck bowed just a trifleâeven as his voice was muted, the words and meaning separated from the tone, which was carefully calculated not to give offense.
âI think,â Adams answered slowly, âthat justice can only exist apart from might. A result provided by power and necessity does not lie within my definition of justice.â
He felt pompous and foolish after that reply, yet facing the man as he was, he didnât know what else he might have said.
The press conference went on, but the dark-skinned reporter did not ask any other questions.
Friday 5.00 P.M .
When the press conference had finished, General Kempton asked Adams to remain for a few minutes. Adams sat down gratefully, exhausted in every bone and muscle of his body. General Kempton, observing him thoughtfully, asked if he had ever been the focus of a press conference
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