Newton’s Fire (35 page)

‘Where the fuck are you going?’ growled Walters.

‘I want to speak to my friends,’ said Jay.

Walters laughed. ‘In your dreams, mate.’

‘I can still put a stop this mission,’ Jay told him. ‘Would your boss thank you if I did?’

To Luke’s surprise, Walters shrugged and let him by. He knelt beside Luke, picked at the tape over his mouth until he’d got enough up to strip it off. It was a day and a half since Luke had shaved, so that it felt like flame on his skin, but the pleasure of being able to breathe and talk made it more than worthwhile.

‘Do Rachel’s,’ he said.

Jay complied. The skin around her mouth was as red as smeared lipstick. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘You mustn’t be afraid,’ said Jay. ‘You’re both still under my protection.’

‘And what happens when that runs out?’

‘It won’t,’ said Jay. ‘Not before Israel. They can’t move the Ark without a Kohen, you see.’

Luke shook his head in disbelief. ‘You can’t honestly believe these people care about that.’

‘Maybe not. But my uncle does. How many times do I have to tell you? Tonight won’t happen without him. It
can’t
happen without him. Besides, I’m not just here to
escort
the Ark. I have a far more important job. Something no one else can do, not these people here, not even my uncle. Something that requires a true adept.’

‘And what’s that?’ asked Luke.

Jay dropped his voice. ‘I know how it works,’ he murmured.

‘How what works?’ frowned Rachel.

‘The Ark, of course.’

She shook her head. ‘What are you talking about?’

Despite the gloom, Jay’s skin seemed to flush. ‘Do you honestly think this is just some ancient chest of wood and gold we’ve found? Why would Ashmole and the others have needed Newton for
that?
It’s
described in great detail in the Book of Exodus, after all. Any craftsman worth his salt could have knocked one up.’

‘Then why did they need him?’

‘Because the Ark is what the Bible says it is, Luke. It’s a
weapon
. And not just
any
weapon. It’s the original weapon of mass destruction.’

‘For God’s sake, Jay!’

‘Do you know what they called it, Luke?’ he asked. ‘They called it the Ark of the Strength and Glory of the Lord. They carried it seven times around Jericho and it brought its walls tumbling down.’

‘Jesus, Jay.’

‘And it wasn’t just cities it destroyed. It took out
armies
. The first Book of Samuel, chapter 6, verse 19. The Ark slew seventy nobles and fifty thousand commoners just for looking wrongly upon it.
Fifty thousand
. Or the second Book, where the Ark slipped and Uzzah tried to stop it from hitting the ground, and was killed instantly. Or Leviticus 10.’ Jay stood unsteadily, spread his feet and hands wide like a ham actor delivering his big speech. ‘“And Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, took either of them his censer, and put fire therein, and put incense thereon, and offered strange fire before the Lord, which he commanded them not. And there went out fire from the Lord, and devoured them, and they died before the Lord.”’ He knelt again, looked fiercely back and forth between Luke and Rachel. ‘Strange fire before the Lord.
Strange fire
. Doesn’t that remind you of anything?’

‘What the hell—’

‘Newton and the other alchemists were after
sacred
fire. Don’t you think that it’s at least
possible
that sacred fire and strange fire might be one and the same? That what they were really after was the secret of the Ark of the Covenant? A source of power that could bring down cities, that could destroy armies tens of thousands strong? A source of power that would change the world forever?’ He leaned towards Luke again, lowered his voice. ‘Do you know what alchemical tradition says about how Solomon built his temple? It says he cast spells that trapped djinns and other powerful spirits in magical amphorae, then forced them to do his bidding. Djinns trapped in jars. Strange fire in chests of wood and gold. A source of power to change the world.’ His expression was by now both manic and exultant. ‘Newton understood how it worked, Luke. And so do I. And tomorrow morning I’m going to prove it. Tomorrow morning I’m going to show the world the face of God Himself.’

‘How?’

Jay opened his mouth to answer, but then he blinked and hesitated as he realized how close he’d come to letting on more than he should. He gave Luke a knowing smile, as though to congratulate him for almost tricking him. ‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ he said.

‘Tell me, Jay.’

But he only shook his head again, his fervour dissipating by the moment, shrinking him as it went, leaving him a smaller and a lesser man. ‘Soon enough.’

Croke fell silent in the front of the van as they neared City Airport. He was all too aware how critical the next few minutes were. Without the direct protection of the NCT, their little convoy was now far more vulnerable to misadventure, even betrayal. But Morgenstern had done him proud. Two airport security officers were waiting in a marked car as promised. They led them down a supply road to a security fence topped by triple strands of barbed wire, where another guard opened the gate for them as they approached, then closed it again behind them.

They drove across tarmac to the private jet concourse. The security car flashed its lights at a partially open hangar door. Manfredo flashed acknowledgement and drove inside. Croke’s jet was waiting there, his pilot Craig Bray by the open cargo bay, checking pallets of supplies. They pulled up beside him, jumped down. ‘All good?’ asked Croke.

‘Better than good,’ nodded Bray. ‘They signed off our paperwork blind. And they’ve given us priority clearance. They must think you’re God Himself.’

Croke laughed. ‘Closer than you’d think.’

Bray kicked one of the pallets. ‘We’re to load these, yeah? They were sent for my attention by some guy called Jakob Kohen. Only there’s enough acid in here to bathe all the brides you could ever ask for.’

‘Give me a moment,’ said Croke. He went around the back of the van, found Kohen chatting with Luke and Rachel. ‘What the fuck?’ he asked Walters.

‘He threatened to scupper the mission.’

Croke scowled. The little prick was getting on his nerves. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Put his friends on board. And stay with them. I don’t want them trying anything.’

‘You got it, boss.’

Croke beckoned to Kohen. ‘Your supplies are here,’ he said. ‘Do you want to double-check them or shall we just load?’

‘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.