He left and returned with one of his men holding Charlie Calhoun by the arm, his hands cuffed behind his back.
I said, "Good morning, Mr. Calhoun. I'd offer to shake hands, but you seem a little distracted."
He stared straight ahead. "Fuck you, Royal."
"Charlie," I said, "I'm going to ask you some questions. You get one try at answering truthfully. If you don't, you pay the consequences."
Michelle mumbled through her clenched jaw. "Don't say a word, Charlie."
I looked at Charlie. "You've got one chance. Don't blow it."
"Fuck you, Royal."
I smiled at him. "You've got a limited vocabulary. Tell me what the Rev is going to blow up."
A look of puzzlement, or maybe just stupidity, crossed his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Charlie, don't be stupid. If you help me, you'll be helping yourself."
"Go to hell, Royal."
I turned to Mendosa. "Would you be kind enough to take this cretin out back and have him shot?"
"Certainly," said Mendosa, and nodded to the man who'd brought Charlie to us.
Charlie looked at me with a knowing grin. He didn't think we'd do it. People who lurk on the edges of civilization know that their greatest protection from the wrath of society is the unwillingness of good people to do bad things. Sometimes, the lurkers misjudge.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Logan followed Charlie and his keeper out of the room. They reappeared on the lawn outside the window. Mendosa's man moved out of my line of sight, leaving Charlie and Logan standing alone on the grass.
"You might want to watch this," I said to Michelle.
Logan was standing behind the handcuffed Charlie. He raised a pistol to the back of Charlie's neck. The sound of a gunshot rattled the glass in the window. Charlie dropped loosely to the ground, like a bag ofpota- toes. Logan turned and walked out of our view.
Michelle screamed as the gunshot sounded. "My God! You shot Charlie."
"You're next, Michelle," I said. "I'm tired of fooling around. Tell me what I want to know and you live. Lie to me, you die. It's that simple."
She was sitting on the side of the bed, hands in her lap. They were shaking. Her face was twisted in a rictus of fear. Tears were sliding down her cheeks. Reality had come home to Michelle, and she didn't like it.
"I don't want to die," she said.
I sat on the bed beside her. I reached out and took her hand. "I don't want you to die either. Tell me what Simmermon is doing."
She caught her breath, swallowed a sob. "I'm not real sure. He's been crazy lately. Says God's talking to him and telling him to kill the heathens."
"How does he plan to do that?"
"I think he's got some of those kids convinced to use themselves as suicide bombers. He's planning to blow up churches."
"Churches? Christian churches?" I said.
"Yes. He thinks if he sends the bombers into Christian houses ofwor- ship, the Muslims will be blamed. He wants what he calls another Crusade to free the Holy Land."
"How does he figure to do that?"
"He says that the bombings will cause such a groundswell of public outrage that the U.S. will have to bomb the Muslims out of existence."
"All one and a half billion of them?" Incredulity strained my words.
"That's what he says, starting with the ones in our country."
"He's not squeamish about sacrificing his brother Christians in return for killing Muslims?"
Michelle rolled her eyes. "He says the Christians who are killed are going to heaven anyway, or most of them, and they'll be better off."
"He's not planning to be among them I take it."
"No. He says God wants him here on earth to help turn everybody else into Christians, to save them."
"And if the Jews or Buddhists or whoever don't want to be saved?"
"I don't think he's worked that one out yet," she said.
"How long has he been planning this?"
"I'm not sure. He just told me about it a couple of days ago at lunch. I think he's been working on it for a long time though. He said the plan is already in operation."
"How did a string of whorehouses come to this?"
"I don't know. I met the Rev a few years ago at a tent revival in Alabama. He understood what I was going through, and I joined his organization. I'd worked in a house in Birmingham, and when I realized all these little sluts were looking for salvation, we came up with the plan for the spas. It was a good deal until he went nuts."
"Not such a good deal for the girls."
"Not a bad deal either. They have a nice place to live, food on the table, and a medical plan. Most of them don't want to leave."
"But you keep them drugged."
"Only for the first month or so. Then they can either leave or stay on at one of our other spas in a different town."
"So, Key West is where you break them in."
"You could say that."
"What happens if the girl doesn't want this kind of life?"
"The Rev takes them back home I guess. I don't really know."
"I thought you ran things."
"I thought I did too."
"Where is lie sending the bombers?"
"I honestly don't know. I didn't even know there were bombers until a couple of days ago."
"Okay. You're going to stay here for a while. One of your other guys is here too."
"Who?"
"Martin Holcomb."
"He's one of the Rev's thugs. I hardly know him."
"I'll have Charlie brought back to his room."
"His body?"
"No, Michelle. Charlie's not dead. Sane people don't kill just to make a point."
"But I saw your buddy shoot him."
"Yes, but with a dart gun. The gunshot came from a pistol fired into the ground. Charlie will have a headache but that's all."
"You can't prove anything."
I pulled a tape recorder out of the pocket of my shorts. "I think I can," I said.
"You son of a bitch," she said. "You rotten son of a bitch."
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The driver took Logan and me back to the Coast Guard station. I thanked the driver and told him I'd be in touch about his guests.
The Coastie on the front desk took us to a room in the back of the building. Jock was there, sitting at a small conference table. Paul Galis sat on the other side, nervously rubbing his hands together. A compact man in Army battle fatigues was at the end of the table.
Jock introduced Logan to Galls, and both of us to Major John Lockman.
"The major is in command of the Delta Force team," said jock. "They've secured the island and have all the remaining men under arrest."
"What about the girls?" I asked.
Jock shook his head. "They're bringing them in on a Coast Guard boat. They'll be treated for drugs, and then we'll see what we can do about them."
Galls said, "My people raided the spa, and we have three men in custody. The girls are being held for medical treatment."
"They're all on drugs," I said.
"We know," said Galls. "I doubt they'll be much help to us in making a case against Simmermon."
I shrugged. "I've got three of his people under wraps and a recorded statement from Michelle Browne, his top assistant."
A look of surprise crossed Galls' face. "Where are they?"
I grinned. "I don't think you want to know. But I'll get them for you later today."
Galis laughed. "Good enough."
I turned to the major. "Did you lose anybody?"
"No, sir," he said. "There were only a half dozen armed men left, and they gave up quickly. We found several bodies with gunshot wounds and five who died from what looks like grenade shrapnel."
Jock put his elbows on the table, leaning in. "That sounds about right. Matt and Logan are old infantrymen."
The major looked at us. "Army?"
Jock said, "Matt was Special Forces, and Logan was in the 82nd until he got out of the mud and learned to fly helicopters."