her face. Except for the handcuffs, she could have been on her way to a business meeting.
The agent pointed toward the chair Peter had vacated and told her to sit. I took the other chair as the agent left the trailer. Logan made a big show of locking the door.
'I have some questions for you, Ms. Young,' I said. 'I'm not a cop, but I need honest answers quickly.'
'I have nothing to hide,' she said.
'Tell me about the suitcase Peter brought you.'
'Peter came in late yesterday. I'd gotten an e-mail from Michelle the day before, so I was expecting him.'
'The suitcase?'
'He had it with him. He said I'd be told what to do with it. About an hour later, I got an e-mail from the Rev telling me that somebody would pick it up today.'
'Did somebody pick it up?'
'Yes. Late this afternoon.'
'Tell me about it.'
'Nothing to tell, really. Some fat guy showed up, told me the Rev had sent him for the suitcase. I gave it to him, and he left.'
'What time was this?'
'Around six, I think.'
'Did you know what was in the suitcase?'
'No. I didn't ask.
The FBI agent took Ms. Young out and returned. I told him what I'd learned, and that I thought we were at a dead end.
'What about the surveillance photos?' he asked.
'What surveillance photos?' I said.
'We took pictures of everyone entering and leaving the house since we got set up here.'
'What time was that?'
'Everything was in place by five o'clock.'
'Then we probably have a picture of the fat man.'
'Probably, for whatever good it'll do us.'
He left to retrieve copies of the photographs.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
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.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
'I ain't believing this,' I said.
'What?' asked Logan.
'You ever go to Hutch's over on Cortez Road?'
'The place where you almost got killed? No. Why?'
I pointed to the face on the photograph. 'This is the guy who runs the place. Fats Monahan.'
'You're kidding. I thought that guy Bartel tried to kill him along with you.'
'It could've been a set-up. Cracker was pretty sure the voice on the phone telling him to get me to Hutch's that morning was Fats.'
'Wasn't Fats upstairs shaving when you got there?'
'Yeah, but he probably meant for Bartel to get me down in the bar. It was awfully dark in there. A perfect place for an ambush. Maybe he was late getting there, or I was early.'
'What's Fats doing mixed up in this?'
