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Voices followed footsteps； then the door opened again。 A man and a boy entered and Lettner got to his feet。 They needed food and supplies； and for ten minutes they shopped and talked and decided where the fish were biting。 Lettner was careful to place his beer under the counter while his customers were present。
Adam removed a soft drink from the cooler and left the shop。 He walked along the edge of the wooden dock next to the river； and stopped by the gas pump。 Two teenagers in a boat were casting near the bridge； and it struck Adam that he'd never been fishing in his life。 His father had not been a man of hobbies and leisure。 Nor had he been able to keep a job。 At the moment； Adam could not remember exactly what his father had done with his time。
The customers left and the door slammed。 Lettner lumbered to the gas pump。 〃You like to trout fish？〃 he asked； admiring the river。
〃No。 Never been。〃
〃Let's go for a ride。 I need to check out a spot two miles downriver。 The fish are supposed to be thick。〃
Lettner was carrying his ice chest which he dropped carefully into a boat。 He stepped down from the dock； and the boat rocked violently from side to side as he grabbed the motor。 〃e on；〃 he yelled at Adam； who was studying the thirty…inch gap between himself and the boat。 〃And grab that rope；〃 Lettner yelled again； pointing to a thin cord hooked to a grapple。。
Adam unhitched the rope and stepped nervously into the boat； which rocked just as his foot touched it。 He slipped and landed on his head and came within inches of taking a swim。 Lettner howled with laughter as he pulled the starter rope。 Ron； of course； had watched this and was grinning stupidly on the dock。 Adam was embarrassed but laughed as if it was all very funny。 Lettner gunned the engine； the front of the boat jerked upward； and they were off。
Adam clutched the handles on both sides as they sped through the water and under the bridge。 Calico Rock was soon behind them。 The river turned and twisted its way through scenic hills and around rocky bluffs。 Lettner navigated with one hand and sipped a fresh beer with the other。 After a few minutes； Adam relaxed somewhat and managed to pull a beer from the cooler without losing his balance。 The bottle was ice cold。 He held it with his right hand and clutched the boat with his left。 Lettner was humming or singing something behind him。 The high…pitched roar of the motor prevented conversation。
They passed a small trout dock where a group of clean…cut city slickers were counting fish and drinking beer； and they passed a flotilla of rubber rafts filled with mangy teenagers smoking something and absorbing the sun。 They waved at other fishermen who were hard at work。
The boat slowed finally and Lettner maneuvered it carefully through a bend as if he could see the fish below and had to position himself perfectly。 He turned off the engine。 〃You gonna fish or drink beer？〃 he asked； staring at the water。
〃Drink beer。〃
〃Figures。〃 His bottle was suddenly of secondary importance as he took the rod and cast to a spot toward the bank。 Adam watched for a second； and when there was no immediate result he reclined and hung his feet over the water。 The boat was not fortable。
〃How often do you fish？〃 he asked。
〃Every day。 It's part of my job； you know； part of my service to my customers。 I have to know where the fish are biting。〃
〃Tough job。〃
〃Somebody has to do it。〃
〃What brought you to Calico Rock？〃
〃Had a heart attack in '75； so I had to retire from the Bureau。 Had a nice pension and all； but； hell； you get bored just sitting around。 The wife and I found this place and found the marina for sale。 One mistake led to another； and here I am。 Hand me a beer。〃
He cast again as Adam dispensed the beer。 He quickly counted fourteen bottles remaining in the ice。 The boat drifted with the river； and Lettner grabbed a paddle。 He fished with one hand； sculled the boat with the other； and somehow balanced a fresh beer between his knees。 The life of a fishing guide。
They slowed under some trees； and the sun was mercifully shielded for a while。 He made the casting look easy。 He whipped the rod with a smooth wrist action； and sent the lure anywhere he wanted。 But the fish weren't biting。 He cast toward the middle of the river。
〃Sam's not a bad guy。〃 He'd already said this once。
〃Do you think he should be executed？〃
〃That's not up to me； son。 The people of the state want the death penalty； so it's on the books。 The people said Sam was guilty and then said he should be executed； so who am I？〃
〃But you have an opinion。〃
〃What good is it？ My thoughts are pletely worthless。〃
〃Why do you say Sam's not a bad guy？〃
〃It's a long story。〃
〃We have fourteen beers left。〃
Lettner laughed and the vast smile returned。 He gulped from the bottle and looked down the river； away from his line。 〃Sam was of no concern to us； you understand。 He was not active in the really nasty stuff； at least not at first。 When those civil rights workers disappeared； we went in with a fury。 We spread money all over the place； and before long we had all sorts of Klan informants。 These people were basically just ignorant rednecks who'd never had a dime； and we preyed on their craving for money。 We'd have never found those three boys had we not dropped some cash。 About thirty thousand； as I remember it； though I didn't deal directly with the informant。 Hell； son； they were buried in a levee。 We found them； and it made us look good； you understand。 Finally； we'd acplished something。 Made a bunch of arrests； but the convictions were difficult。 The violence continued。 They bombed black churches and black homes so damned often we couldn't keep up。 It was like a war down there。 It got worse； and Mr。 Hoover got madder； and we spread around more money。
〃Listen； son； I'm not going to tell you anything useful； you understand？〃
〃Why not？〃
〃Some things I can talk about； some I can't。〃
〃Sam wasn't alone when he bombed the Kramer office； was he？〃
Lettner smiled again and studied his line。 The rod was sitting in his lap。 〃Anyway； by late '65 and early '66； we had a helluva network of informants。 It really wasn't that difficult。 We'd learn that some guy was in the Klan； and so we'd trail him。 We'd follow him home at night； flashing our lights behind him； parking in front of his house。 It'd usually scare him to death。 Then we'd follow him to work； sometimes we'd go talk to his boss； flash our badges around； act like we were about to shoot somebody。 We'd go talk to his parents； show them our badges； let them see us in our dark suits； let them hear our Yankee accents； and these poor country people would literally crack up right in front of us。 If the guy went to church； we'd follow him one Sunday； then the next day we'd go talk to his preacher。 We'd tell him that we had heard a terrible rumor that Mr。 Such and Such was an active member of the Klan； and did he know anything about it。 We acted like it was a crime to be a member of the Klan。 If the guy had teenage children； we'd follow them on dates； sit behind them at the movies； catch them parking in the woods。 It was nothing but pure harassme