Dead or Alive - Tom Clancy [277]
Now Kaseke extended the mine’s scissor legs. He then made sure the label—front toward enemy—was pointing toward the entrance of that church that would in a few hours be bustling with activity, then jammed the legs into the soft earth inside the hedges. He got down on his belly, crawled through the hedges, then turned around and peered through the open sight affixed to the top of the mine.
Good. He’d chosen the perfect location. The blast would encompass not only the entrance and the steps but part of the sidewalk as well.
He checked the mine’s clock against his own watch. They were synchronized. He set the countdown timer, pressed start, and watched a few seconds tick off before getting up and walking away.
As was their custom on weekends, Hank Alvey woke up early on Sunday morning and quietly got their three kids out of bed, fed them oatmeal and blueberry waffles, then got them settled in front of the TV—the volume turned way down—for cartoons. The previous night’s rain clouds had moved on, leaving behind bright blue skies. Sunlight streamed through the living room windows and across the hardwood floors on which the kids now sat, entranced by the TV.
Shortly before seven, he made Katie her sourdough toast and coffee, and woke her up with breakfast in bed. The tire shop he managed was closed on Sunday, so this was the only day he could relieve his wife of what would otherwise be a seven-day-a-week job. Taking care of the kids so she could sleep in an hour was, she frequently assured him, so romantic, and so sexy—and on most Sunday nights after the kids went to bed, she showed him exactly how much she appreciated the gesture.
But that was for later, Hank reminded himself, pouring the coffee, which went on the tray next to the freshly buttered bread. Most mornings he was able to almost reach their bed before Katie rolled over and gave him a sleepy smile. This she did now.
“What’s for breakfast?” she asked, smiling.
“Take a guess.”
“Ah, my favorite.” She sat up and shoved pillows behind her back. “What’d you do with the kids, lock them in the closet?”
“They’re watching Yo Gabba Gabba! I think Jeremy’s got a crush on Foofa.”
Katie took a bite of toast. “Which one’s that?”
“The pink flower bubble thing.”
“Right. Are we going to church?”
“We’d better. We missed the last two Sundays. We can hit the nine o’clock, then take the kids to the park afterward.”
“Okay, I’ll make myself pretty.”
“Done,” Hank said, and headed for the door. “I’m going to let them out of the closet now.”
Katie was down the stairs, dressed, her hair and makeup done, even before Hank was ready for shoes. Their oldest, Josh, could tie his own, but not so with Amanda and Jeremy, so Hank took one and Katie took the other, and then they were up and moving, looking for their coats and car keys, making sure the back door was locked….
“We’re going to be late,” Katie called.
Hank checked his watch. “Not quite a quarter till. We’ll be there in five minutes. Okay, kids, let’s get a move on. …”
Then they were out the door.
Half a block north and west of the church, Kaseke was sitting on a bus bench, sipping his third cup of coffee of the day. From this angle he had a perfect vantage point of the front steps. There. The front doors opened, and people began emerging. Kaseke checked his watch: 8:48. Now from the path leading around the church to the rear parking lot came a line of nine a.m. worshippers. Leading the group was a young couple with three children, two boys and a girl, all three holding hands as they skipped ahead of their parents. Kaseke squeezed his eyes shut and asked Allah for strength. This was necessary. And the children, small as they were, would be killed instantly, so quickly that the pain wouldn’t have time to register in their minds.
The incoming group reached the end of the path, where it joined the common area around the steps.
Kaseke checked his watch.