Newton’s Fire

II

Nathaniel had jacked up the right back wheel of the truck in order to change the tyre and so give Ana and Ruth cover to unload the Predator missiles and carry them down into the Jewish cemetery. It was a delicate operation, for a contingent of Israeli Defense Force light infantry were stationed in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, close enough that Nathaniel and the women could hear snatches of their conversation and laughter, see the occasional orange firefly of a cigarette.

Nathaniel had set his cellphone to mute. Now it began to vibrate. His heart seemed almost to vibrate in sympathy with it. He checked the message to make sure. Yes. His hands were clammy as he made his way to join the women.

‘Is it time?’ asked Ruth.

‘It’s time,’ said Nathaniel.

This latest generation of Predator missiles had GPS capability. All nine were already on, programmed and ready to fire. They shouldered one each. The night was sparkling clear, the golden bulb of the Dome brilliantly lit. It usually made Nathaniel feel sick to see it, to see Islam lording it over Judaism like that; but tonight it felt righteous.

Ana gave the countdown in a quiet, calm voice:

‘Three.

‘Two.

‘One.

‘Fire.’

The noise of the triple discharge was quite something. The cemetery lit up orange and the three fat missiles flew with surprising slowness across the valley. They didn’t watch them, however, but threw away the empty Predator husks, shouldered and fired another missile each. Now they unleashed the third and final set. Remarkably, all nine were on their way before the first ones struck.

Electricity for the Temple Mount was routed through two generator buildings on the northern wall. Both buildings were destroyed in an instant by the first salvo. The whole Temple Mount lit up like a fiesta in silent eruptions. The spotlights on the Dome stuttered and went dark. Only now did the triple booms reach them across the valley. By coincidence, they synchronized almost perfectly with the impact of the second volley. The Temple Mount’s Golden Gate had been walled up centuries before. As the second tranche of missiles slammed into it, the vast old stones staggered yet somehow stayed standing. Then the final volley struck and the ancient structure collapsed in an avalanche of rubble that cascaded down through the Arab cemetery onto the road below.

The last of the explosions died away. The noise of gunfire reached them. It sounded strangely trivial in comparison. At first it was erratic but they quickly got a fix on their position. They knelt and raised their hands high above their heads. ‘Don’t shoot!’ they yelled. ‘We surrender! We surrender!’ Their voices were drowned out by the thunder of copter blades. Spotlights dazzled them in the darkness. They braced themselves for bullets; but the bullets never came. Soldiers swarmed up the hillside and slammed them face-first into the ground. They tied their wrists behind their backs with flexi-cuffs and marched them down the slope. But the three of them smiled in triumph as they went. Their job was done.

It had started.