I looked at my watch. After eleven. Time to call Jock. He sounded tired. I told him what had happened.
"I've got some good news," he said. "We rolled up the Atlanta bomber."
"That is good news. How?"
"We got lucky. The Atlanta police have been tracking a group of nuts that want to take over the government. A surveillance team caught the leader coming out of the Heaven Can't Wait Spa carrying a suitcase. They followed him to a sleaze-bag hotel on the south side where he met with a young man. They arrested both.
"The suitcase had a suicide bomber vest already rigged to explode. The young man confessed to having come up from Blood Island yesterday. They haven't yet figured out how the suitcase got to the whorehouse, but they're interviewing the girls now."
"What about Key West?" I asked.
"Nothing yet, but the island is full of cops looking for the bomber."
"Did you find out anything from any of the other people on the island?"
"Not much. We're pretty sure we got all the bombers except the one here and the two headed for Orlando and Atlanta. The guards didn't know anything, and the girls were pretty much drugged up the whole time."
"Were there other bombers?"
"Yes. They're really sick kids. Simmermon did a number on them. They actually believe he's God's chosen prophet and that they're doing the Lord's work, blowing up good Christian people."
"Jock, don't you think it's time to warn people about this and keep them out of church tomorrow?"
"Can't do it, podner. I already suggested that. The people who make these decisions are afraid an announcement would cause a huge panic, and a lot of folks won't get the message anyway."
"So, we just let a lot of good church-going folks die?"
"Not my call. I agree with you. We've just got to find these bastards before they set off the bombs. Keep plugging." The phone clicked off.
I dialed Debbie's number.
"It's late, Royal, and I just got home from work," she said.
"What ever happened to `hello'?"
"Caller ID. I don't feel like being nice to you."
"Sorry, babe. I need some more help."
"You still in Key West?"
"No. Orlando."
"I don't even want to know why."
"No you don't. I need you to see what you can find on two people who're dead. Albert Thomas and Colin Edinfield."
"And you need this when?"
"Now would be good."
"Geez, the things I do for quarter tips." She hung up.
I told Logan what Jock had said about Atlanta.
"Glad to hear that," he said. "But if the government can't find anything on Thomas and Edinfield, how do you expect Debbie to?"
"Maybe she won't find anything more, but it's worth a try. She's good, and it's about time we had a little luck."
The FBI agent came back, his hand full of black-and-white photographs.
He laid two on the desk. "This is the fat guy coming in at 5:48 and leaving five minutes later. He's carrying a suitcase coming out."
I studied the pictures. The one of the man leaving the house caught his face straight on. It was high resolution and clear as a cloudless sky. I felt my heart skip a beat, my pulse quicken. This was the last thing I expected. I knew the man with the suitcase.