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?'
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
It was four thirty when Debbie called. 'Matt,' she said, 'I couldn't sleep. I went into the newspaper archives for northern Alabama, and came up with something that I thought you might be interested in.'
'Shoot.'
'A couple of years ago, when Simmermon was really getting his revivals into the big time, he got into a pissing match with a Methodist minister in Birmingham.'
'What about?'
'Mostly theological issues. The minister didn't think Simmermon was staying true to the Bible. Said he was preaching hate wrapped up in Christian principles. The preacher took the position that Christian principles are about forgiveness, and Simmermon said that they were about exclusiveness. In other words, if you want to go to heaven, you need to listen to Simmermon.'
'How does that fit into the problems we're facing?'
'Well, you haven't exactly told me what problems you are facing. I know you're in Orlando, and you're there because of Simmermon.'
'Sorry, babe. That's all I can tell you.'
'Well, anyway, the connection I see is that the minister from Birmingham is now the pastor of the Lakeside Methodist Church in downtown Orlando.'
'Uh-oh. What's the minister's name?'
'Carlton Tarlington.'
'I'll be damned. Thanks Deb. Get some sleep.'
'Yeah, right.' She hung up.
I turned to Jock and Logan. 'Jock,' I said, 'when you had Simmermon drugged up, could he have been saying `Tarlington' instead of `Arlington'?'
'Maybe. Why?'
I relayed Deb's findings.
'That could be it. Do you know the church?'
'Yeah. It's a big one. The sanctuary probably seats a thousand people.'
'That's got to be his target,' said Logan. 'Can't we warn Tarlington and get his people out of harm's way?'
Jock shook his head. 'We can't take that chance. The bomber would just hit another target. We've got to take him out.'
Jock's phone rang, and he stepped outside to take it. When he came back, he was smiling. 'That was the director of the Witness Security Program. He was at home and plugged into his agency computers. Amazing what wonders a little juice will work in bureaucracies.'
'What did he find out?' I asked.
'Not enough. He's going to dig a little deeper and call me back. But, Edinfield and Thomas were in the program. So was Clyde Varn. They set Edinfield up with a new name, Robert William Simmermon, and tried to manufacture a past for him. It was pretty good, and would have been enough if Debbie hadn't gotten curious.'
'What about Varn and Thomas?' Logan asked.
'Varn was sent to Topeka and became Jake Yardley. About a year ago, he disappeared. The Marshals say it isn't that unusual. The witnesses get bored or miss their old life and just leave the program. The government doesn't spend a lot of manpower looking for them.'
'That's about when he showed up in Bradenton,' I said. 'Is there any evidence that he knew Edinfield in the program?'
'Some. While Edinfield was in Key West he was working for some pretty bad folks. He was crazy, but he somehow got tied in with the same drug-running group that Varn was associated with. Edinfield worked on some
