“The bomb’s secured,” Kenneth said.

“The trench is filled in.

We’re out of the beach hazard zone.”

“Load up the dogs,” I said.

Kenneth gave one short, flat whistle.

Rex jumped into the double crate in the truck bed, and Tank followed, their iron collars clinking on the steel frame.

Kenneth slammed the tailgate shut and locked the heavy brass side pins.

“Your uniform chest is still in the cab,” Kenneth said.