Patriot games - Tom Clancy [139]
"How are the twins?" Jack asked at once.
The reply was a low moan, and a look at the circles under Tyler 's eyes provided the answer. "The trick is getting both of them asleep. You just get one quieted down, then the other one goes off like a damned fire alarm. I don't know how Jean does it. Of course"- Tyler grinned-"she can walk the floor with them. When I do it it's step-thump, step-thump."
All three men laughed. Skip Tyler had never been the least sensitive about losing his leg.
"How's Jean holding up?" Robby asked.
"No problem-she sleeps when they do and I get to do all the housework."
"Serves you right, turkey," Jack observed. "Why don't you give it a rest?"
"Can I help it if I'm hot-blooded?" Skip demanded.
"No, but your timing sucks," Robby replied.
"My timing," Tyler said with raised eyebrows, "is perfect."
"I guess that's one way to look at it," Jack agreed.
"I heard you were out jogging this morning." Tyler changed subjects.
"So did I." Robby laughed.
"I'm still alive, guys."
"One of my mids said tomorrow they're going to follow you around with an ambulance just in case." Skip chuckled. "I suppose it's nice for you to remember that most of the kids know CPR."
"Why are Mondays always like this?" Jack asked.
Alex and Sean Miller made a final run along Route 50. They were careful to keep just under the speed limit. The State Police radar cars were out in force today for some reason or other. Alex assured his colleague that this would end around 4:30. Rush hour had too many cars on the road for efficient law enforcement. Two other men were in the back of the van, each with his weapon.
"Right about here, I think," Miller said.
"Yeah, it's the best place," Alex agreed.
"Escape route." Sean clicked on a stopwatch.
"Okay." Alex changed lanes and kept heading west. "Remember, it's gonna be slower tonight."
Miller nodded, getting the usual pre-op butterflies in his stomach. He ran through his plan, thinking over each contingency as he sat in the right-front seat of the van, watching the way traffic piled up at certain exits off the highway. The road was far better than the roads he was accustomed to in Ireland, but people drove on the wrong side here, he thought, though with pretty good traffic manners compared to Europe. Especially France and Italy he shook off the thought and concentrated on the situation at hand.
Once the attack was completed, they would reach the getaway vehicles in under ten minutes. The way it was timed, Ned Clark would be waiting for them. Miller completed his mental run-through, satisfied that his plan, though a hasty one, was effective.
"You're early," Breckenridge said.
"Yeah, well, I have a couple of mids coming in this afternoon to go over their term papers. Any problem?" Jack took the Browning from his briefcase.
The Sergeant Major grabbed a box of 9mm rounds. "Nope. Mondays are supposed to be screwed up."
Ryan walked to lane three and pulled the gun from the holster. First he ejected the empty clip and pulled the slide back. Next he checked the barrel for obstructions. He knew the weapon was fine mechanically, of course, but Breckenridge had range-safety rules that were inviolable. Even the Superintendent of the Academy had to follow them.
"Okay, Gunny."
"I think today we'll try rapid fire." The Sergeant Major clipped the appropriate target on the rack, and the motorized pulley took it fifty feet downrange. Ryan loaded five rounds into the clip.
"Get your ears on, Lieutenant." Breckenridge tossed the muff-type protectors. Ryan put them on. He slid the clip into the pistol and thumbed down the slide release. The weapon was now "in battery," ready to fire. Ryan pointed it downrange and waited. A moment later the light over the target snapped on. Jack brought the gun up and set the black circle right on the top of his front sight blade before he squeezed. Rapid-fire rules gave him one second per shot. This was more time than it sounded like. He got the first round off a little late, but most people did. The gun ejected