Will Adams - Newton’s Fire

‘I want to double-check them.’

‘Fine,’ said Croke. ‘But first we need to talk to your uncle.’

It was past midnight in Jerusalem when Avram finally received his nephew’s call. ‘It’s real?’ he asked.

‘It’s real, Uncle,’ Jakob assured him, his excitement audible despite the distance. ‘I saw it. I touched it.’

‘You touched it?’

‘Only to pack it. We’re loading it on to the plane now. We’ll be in the air soon.’

‘Good. And well done.’

‘Thank you, Uncle.’

‘Is the man Croke with you? I need to speak with him.’

‘He’s here. I’ll put him on now.’

‘I trust you’re satisfied,’ said Croke when Jay handed him the phone.

‘I’m satisfied,’ said Avram.

‘Then you’re going in?’

‘When people are asleep. But please remember that I’ll wait until the Ark is here before I bring down the Dome.’

‘I know the plan,’ said Croke.

‘I know you know the plan,’ said Avram. ‘I want to make sure you bear the plan in mind as you’re flying across the Mediterranean with the Ark in your hold. I want you to remember that I’ll be monitoring your course all they way on a flight-tracking website, and that I’ll call my nephew should I see any deviation.’

‘I said I know the plan, Avram. I’ll see you in Jerusalem.’

‘In Jerusalem,’ agreed Avram.

Luke watched warily as Walters crouched his way inside the van. ‘I’m not to hurt you,’ he told him and Rachel, showing them the taser. ‘Not unless you try something. So please try something. Pretty please.’ He unlocked Rachel’s right cuff, released her from the chest handle, cuffed her to Luke instead. Then he removed and pocketed Luke’s cuffs. ‘On your feet,’ he said.

Getting down from the back was awkward, attached together as they were. They found themselves in an aircraft hangar so vast that it made the sleek white jet inside it look small. Walters herded them to and up the forward steps. They turned away from the cockpit, passed between toilets and some kind of hi-tech comms’ suite into a passenger cabin opulently fitted in white leather and polished walnut. There were two banks of seats on either side. They currently all faced forwards but Walters swivelled the front left bank one hundred and eighty degrees, locked it in place. ‘Sit,’ he said. They sat. He took out the second pair of cuffs, closed one around the central seat-belt fitting, the other around the chain of the handcuffs shackling Luke to Rachel, thus securing them neatly to their seats. ‘Comfy?’ he asked.

‘A glass of champagne wouldn’t hurt,’ said Luke.

Walters snorted. ‘I’m going to enjoy how this flight ends,’ he said.

‘Why’s that?’ asked Luke, striving to sound casual, not quite succeeding.

Walters sat sideways on the facing bank, put his right foot up on the white leather to flaunt his freedom. ‘All in good time.’

Luke nodded. ‘I have to tell you something,’ he said. ‘I think your loyalty does you credit.’

‘My loyalty?’

‘Sure. Your boss is bound to need a scapegoat when all this is over. And it’s got to be you, right? I mean you’re already up to your neck in shit for murdering Rachel’s aunt, so you’re-’

‘I didn’t murder her.’

‘… the obvious candidate and I-’

‘I never even touched her.’

‘… just think it’s commendable that you’d sacrifice yourself so that he can-’

Walters leaned forwards, jabbed his taser into Luke’s chest and gave him a vengeful two-second burst that made him arch and yell in pain. ‘Do you honestly think you can drive a wedge between me and the boss?’ Walters asked rhetorically, tucking the weapon back into his waistband. ‘Think a-fucking-gain.’ But there was a more reflective look in his eyes, for all the bravado of his words. Not much. But something, perhaps, for Luke and Rachel to work with.

There were advantages for Avram in leaving the assault until the last moment before the first call to prayer of the new day. People would be at their sleepiest. It would mean having to hold the Dome for a shorter time before dawn and Croke arrived. But there was one major disadvantage too. Jerusalem’s Old City virtually closed down by night, so that the later they left it, the more conspicuous they’d be, the more likely to attract the attention of the IDF and the police.

‘It’s time,’ he said.

They headed out in small clusters, leaving Benyamin behind with Shlomo and his men. Ana and Ruth were waiting by the truck. Danel told them what they’d seen in London, but the two women weren’t overly impressed. They had their own motivations for being here. Avram drove the truck into a darkly shadowed area of the car park and opened up the rear. They shifted furniture and fridges, heaved the dust carts down onto the tarmac. They armed themselves and put on sanitation worker jackets and caps.

Nathaniel, Ruth and Ana were taking the truck on for their own part of the mission. They all now hugged farewell and wished each other luck. Avram led the way into the Old City. He passed safely through Zion then called Danel with the all clear. He kept the line open in case of mishap, but luck was with them. He reached the basement apartment without incident, nodded down to Shlomo. A deep breath, then a deeper. A last check of his watch. After all these years, it seemed extraordinary to Avram that the time of preparation should finally be over and that the time of truth had come.

But it had.

The intercom came on and the pilot announced departure. Walters leaned forwards to pull down the window blind. ‘Don’t want us waving to the crowds, eh?’ asked Luke.

‘Something like that,’ agreed Walters. He fastened his seat belt, ostentatiously nestling his taser in his lap. Lights dimmed. A lurch of movement, though their engines weren’t yet on, then a soft bump of wheels as they were towed over the hangar’s door-rails. They stopped again. Now their engines came on, whining like teenagers on a museum trip. They began to move under their own power and were soon taxiing briskly. They turned into the runway, paused. Their engines roared and they hurtled into take-off. Acceleration pushed Luke a little from his seat. His heart sank as hope faded of some last-moment miracle intervention. Rachel slipped her hand into his. He interlaced his fingers with hers, gave a gentle press of gratitude and reassurance. They lifted sharply. Walters pushed the blind back up. The scattered lights of East London shrank beneath them. They banked into a turn that stole the city from their view and gave them night sky instead. It was moonless but spilled with stars, and just for a blink Luke was back beneath the Ashmolean, staring up at the wondrous galaxies of its ceiling. Then the cabin lights came on, extinguishing the night and prompting Rachel to take her hand from his, as though suddenly feeling shy.

Walters stood and stretched. ‘Champagne, wasn’t it?’ he mocked.

‘And some dry-roasted peanuts, if you’ve got any.’

Walters laughed. ‘Back before you know it.’ He went to the bar to fix himself a drink, then settled down across the aisle with his mates and Jay. He didn’t have their company long, however, for Jay said something to Kieran and the two of them stood and made their way to the rear of the cabin. There was a door there with an embedded handle that Kieran had to pull out and twist to unlock and open. It was thick and heavy and surrounded by rubber seals; and it swung out towards him when surely a sliding door would have made a better use of space.

Luke frowned. Air pressure at altitude was so much greater inside a modern passenger jet than outside that their external doors and hatches invariably opened inwards. That way, even if someone tried to open them during a flight, whether by mistake or in an act of sabotage, they simply wouldn’t have the strength. So that door seemed designed to separate a pressurized from an unpressurized compartment. But if that were truly the case, then Kieran and Jay wouldn’t have been able to get through to the cargo hold at all. He was still puzzling over this when Rachel touched his arm. ‘It’s back there, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘The Ark?’