“We head straight for the school the second this casing is in the bed.”

I glanced down at the digital watch on my left wrist.

The black numbers said 10:35 a.m.

Kenneth worked his steel socket wrench down into the damp sand, his knuckles gray with wet grit.

The heavy iron thread of the tail fuse let out a sharp metallic crack and turned three inches under his hand.

“That’s the last turn,” Kenneth said.

He lifted the rusted brass assembly out of the bomb’s tail and held it in both hands like a glass vase.