At three thirty, Galls called. "We got the bastard," he said, without preamble.
"The bomber? Where?"
"The little shit was sleeping in his aunt's guest room over on Thompson Street. The suicide vest was under the bed."
"Have you questioned him yet?"
"Oh, yeah. He was planning to do the Lord's work. The kid's a real believer."
"What was his target?"
"A Baptist church near downtown. It's our biggest. Would've gotten a lot of press around the world."
"And killed a lot of people."
"Yeah."
"Have you talked to jock Algren?" I asked.
"Just hung up. He's on a government jet en route to Orlando. What's going on up there?"
I told him what we'd learned. "I'm wondering if we can narrow down the targets here. The bombers in both Atlanta and Key West were after big Baptist churches near downtown. That could limit our scope if we focus on the two or three Baptist churches in the Orlando downtown area."
"And it could be dangerous, Matt. The Atlanta and Key West targets could be just coincidental."
"You're right, and I don't like coincidences. I'll let you know what happens."
"I hope I don't see it on the news."
"Me either," I said, and closed my phone.
At four o'clock, Jock walked into the room. He looked tired, his face drawn and haggard, his clothes rumpled.
"Hey, podner," he said, "how're we doing?"
"Waiting," I said.
Logan was reared back in his chair, feet on the conference table. "You look whipped, Jock," he said.
"Yeah. Where's the coffee?"
I pointed to the large thermos sitting on the sideboard. "It's probably mostly mud by now"
"If it's got caffeine, I can use it."
The FBI agent came in. I introduced him to jock. "Mr. Algren is the overall commander of this effort," I said. "He's the one I report to."
The agent took stock ofJock. "What agency are you with?"
"That's not important," Jock said. "But I talk directly to the president."
"I guess that's important," the agent said. "Maybe you can get the Marshals Service off its duff. They won't give me anything on the Witness Security Program. I've alerted my supervisor and he's working up the chain of command to see if our director can talk to the Marshals director."
Jock gave the agent that cold stare that I knew had intimidated stronger men than the FBI man. "You called your fucking supervisor?" he said, his voice rising. "Why didn't you go straight to the top?"
The agent wilted a little. "We have to follow protocol on these things," he said. "We do have a chain of command, you know."
Jock exploded, the hours of frustration bursting out of him like a Roman candle. "You bureaucratic pissant," he said, his voice low. "Don't you realize that people are about to die?"
"Protocol is important, Mr. Algren," the agent said.
"Fuck protocol," Jock said. His voice was low and strident. "And fuck your chain of command."
Jock pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit one button. In a moment he said, "Mr. President, this is jock Algren." Silence. "Not yet, sir, but we're making progress." Silence. "Yes, sir. I need you to call die director of the U.S. Marshals Service and have him get somebody to talk to me about die Witness Security Program." Silence. "As soon as possible, sir. I need names, addresses, and a lot of information on some of the protected witnesses." Silence. "Thank you, sir. I'll keep you posted."
Jock closed his phone and turned to the agent, who looked as if lie wanted to cower in the corner of the small room. "That's done. Now get the hell out of my sight."
The agent turned for the door. "Wait," I said. "Did you find out anything from the folks in Troy?"
"Yes, sir," he said. "The high school principal is retired, but it was a small school, and lie remembers most of the kids. He never heard of a student named Simmermon, but he does remember Edinfield. Says he was a troubled boy, and thinks he ended up in a mental institution."
"What about records?"
"There is no record of a student named Simmermon."
"Thank you, Agent. I appreciate your help," I said.
"Agent,"Jock said. "I apologize for my behavior. Chalk it up to a lack of sleep."
"Apology accepted, sir," the agent said as he left the room.
"Shit," said Jock. "The guy was just doing his job."
I told Jock about the connection I saw to the churches in Atlanta and Key West. "I wonder if we ought to concentrate our assets on similar churches in Orlando."
"If we do that, and the bomber takes out an unprotected church, we're going to look like the world's biggest idiots. Plus, I'd have to live with the slaughter of a lot of innocent people because I got stupid."
"You're probably right. At least we can put a little protection around all the churches. Maybe we'll get lucky."
Jock was pacing now, his face a mask of pain. "We're going to lose them, podner. I'm about to get a lot of good people killed."
"Calm down, buddy. We're making progress."
"Yeah," said Jock, "but is it enough?"