Newton’s Fire

‘Not any more. We shipped the warheads home.’

‘But the bases still have handling capability, right? In case they ever wanted to bring them back?’

‘So?’

‘Imagine something were to happen on your way to Sizewell. Imagine getting a tip off that terrorists are planning to attack your convoy, say. So you make an executive decision to divert to the nearest USAF base instead, because the bomb will be safe there. Once you’re inside, you’re as good as on US soil. Home free.’

‘The Brits will go ballistic,’ said Morgenstern.

‘Is that a problem?’

‘Fuck no,’ grinned Morgenstern. ‘More like a bonus.’

III

Avram and Shlomo parked side by side in a new lot off Ma’aleh Shalom, south of the Old City. The most direct route in was through the Dung Gate, but they couldn’t risk the extra security of the Western Wall Plaza, so they entered through Zion Gate instead. Avram led the way, not once looking back at Danel and his companions. Twice he saw squads of police ahead, but he knew these alleys so well that avoiding them was no problem.

The safe house was a one-bedroom basement apartment. He unlocked the door and left it ajar behind him. It was dark, stuffy and smelly inside. Apart from his own sporadic checks, no one had been in here for a year. But the place had everything he needed, including electricity, running water and a connection to a satellite dish. He hooked the laptop up to it now, while Danel and the others came in and bolted the door behind them, then he checked for messages from Croke. He had two, one with a link for video-feed, the other telling him to tune in at 8 p.m. London time.

‘Show us, then,’ said Danel. ‘This thing of yours.’

‘Not yet,’ said Avram, showing him Croke’s email. ‘And we need to go through the plan again anyway.’

‘We’ve already been through the plan.’

‘Not with the others, we haven’t.’

‘Where are they?’

‘I’ll fetch them now. But Ana and Ruth can’t be here when I come back. We’ll meet them later by the truck.’

Danel scowled. ‘Who do these people think they are?’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Avram. ‘They can’t be here.’

He patted himself down to make certain he wasn’t carrying anything compromising and headed out for the Western Wall. The plaza was thronged when he arrived, buzzing with the euphoria of faith. Monday nights were usually desultory affairs, but the anniversary of the Six Day War had brought out the crowds. His heart swelled as he looked around: these people didn’t know it, but their long exile from the Mount was almost over. An old acquaintance waved to him. He nodded back, but with a studiedly sombre expression to make it clear he wasn’t free to talk.

Shlomo and his men were standing in a small knot by the foot of the steps. He didn’t look at them, but walked slowly past them to make sure he was seen. Then he went to the wall itself.

He’d already composed his brief imprecation. Or, more accurately, Isaiah had composed it for him, and he’d merely copied it out.

And it shall come to pass in the last days that the Lord’s house shall be established in the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills.

He folded the paper into tight fractions of itself, fitted it into a crevice high in the wall. For the first time in his adult life he felt something like peace as he prayed here, that nagging internal voice finally stilled. The Lord, praise His Name, had granted him the gift of life. Now, at long last, he’d have his chance to show his gratitude.

THIRTY-SIX I

The afternoon was brutal for Luke. The floor of their makeshift prison was cold and hard, the cuffs chafed his wrists raw, and every time either he or Rachel said anything to Jay or to each other, the bruiser would threaten them with his taser. And then there was the fear. It had been one thing coping with occasional spikes of it over the past day or so, but now it was a constant, crippling dread. And not just for himself. The thought that something terrible might happen to Rachel because of him was a special kind of torment.

Shadows on the facing wall marked the slow passage of time. Day ceded to evening. The room grew gloomy enough for the bruiser to turn on lights. Others came and went, murmuring by the door. They didn’t realize that the room’s acoustics made snatches of their discussions sufficiently audible for Luke to learn their names. The bruiser was Pete, Blackbeard was Kieran, and their fair-haired boss was Walters. The three of them seemed to work for the American called Croke, who now appeared at the door and beckoned to Jay. ‘We’re almost through,’ he said. ‘Time to come with me.’

‘I’m not leaving my friends,’ Jay told him.

‘You have to. Your uncle insists.’

‘I’m not leaving them.’

Croke sighed. ‘Don’t make me use force.’

‘Force may get me downstairs,’ Jay said prissily. ‘It can’t make me talk to my uncle.’

Croke nodded to Pete. Pete grabbed Jay by his wrist. Jay began to wail and shriek like a spoiled toddler. Pete shrugged and looked to Croke for permission to teach him manners. Croke shook his head. Rather to Luke’s surprise, Jay did indeed have real leverage. That was a limited consolation, however, so long as he and Rachel were held up here, far from safety. He spoke without really thinking. ‘Take us down with you,’ he said. ‘We won’t cause any trouble. We give you our word.’

‘Your word!’ scoffed Croke.

‘Yes,’ said Luke. ‘Our word.’

Croke walked over, crouched down in front of him. ‘I want you to remember something,’ he said. ‘We’re still holding your two friends from Oxford. Fuck with me and it won’t just be your own neck you’ll forfeit. Understand?’

‘We understand,’ said Rachel.

Croke stood up again, turned around to Walters. ‘Can you handle them?’

‘As long as they’re all friendlies downstairs,’ said Walters.

‘They’re all friendlies,’ Croke assured him. ‘But they might not exactly welcome spectators.’ He bit his lower lip. ‘Take them to the cathedral floor; only bring them down to the crypt once we’ve broken through. That way we’ll present them with a fait accompli.’

‘How will we know when you break through?’ asked Walters.

Croke laughed. ‘We’re taking up half the floor. I imagine you’ll hear us.’

Jay came across once he was gone. ‘I told you they needed me,’ he said.

‘Your uncle, more like,’ said Luke. ‘Who the hell is he?’

‘A great man, Luke. A great man.’ He sounded exuberant now that the skirmish had been won. ‘You’ll like him. You’ll both really like him. He’s not a scientist or a historian, but he knows his Newton, honestly he does.’

‘You never mentioned him before.’

‘I didn’t know him until recently. He’s not really my uncle. My third cousin twice removed. He just likes us to call him Uncle.’

‘Us?’