Newton’s Fire

II

The al-Haddad Gate was in the Muslim quarter of the Old City, making it more difficult for Avram and his comrades to reach unnoticed. But it was worth the extra trouble, for the approach had a kink in it, depriving the Waqf nightwatchmen of line of sight on the Israeli police guardpost at the other end.

Avram shuffled his way past the mouth of the alley, an old man of no conceivable threat making his way home after a late dinner. A short distance behind, Danel and his teams of street-cleaners rattled their dust carts across the old stones. Danel paused for a cigarette as he passed the guardpost, but his lighter only sprayed sparks. He glanced at the policemen, held up his cigarette, raised an eyebrow.

‘You guys are working late,’ grunted one of them, taking a matchbook from his pocket.

‘This damned earthquake,’ said Danel. ‘No one knows what’s going on any more.’

‘Tell me about it.’

The clatter of carts drowned out the faint noise of Shlomo and his men approaching through the shadows. The guardpost was swarmed in an instant, hands over all the policemen’s mouths.

‘Don’t be heroes,’ warned Danel.

Tranquillizer guns spat into their necks. They held them till they slumped, laid them in the shadows. Up went the dust cart lids, out came the assault weapons and the packs. They peeled off and discarded their outer garb, put on body-armour and infrared bibs that looked dark to the naked eye but which glowed brightly through their night-vision goggles, cutting the risk of friendly fire. They shouldered their packs, tightened straps. The moment Danel gave Avram the thumbs-up, he sent his prepared text message winging through the night to the Mount of Olives, where Ana, Ruth and Nathaniel were waiting.

Just a few more seconds and the fireworks would begin for real.