Newton’s Fire

II

The moment Avram saw the Jerusalem sky turn orange, he gave the order to go. His own legs were too old to lead the assault itself, so he left that to Danel and Shlomo. They had charges ready to blow the al-Haddad Gate, but the Waqf guards fled through it at the first sight of them, leaving it open behind them. They poured on through as the second volley of Predators struck, making silhouettes and easy targets of the Waqf guards. No point making martyrs of them, so they aimed bursts at their legs until they tumbled prostrate before their precious Dome. They raced up the steps onto the plaza. The generator annexe and the Golden Gate were ablaze, and guards were running about like termites from a scattered mound, blinded and deafened by the explosions, crying out in pain, outrage and terror.

The third and final volley struck. The east lit up like sunrise, engulfing a man in its flames like some primeval sacrifice. The shockwave buffeted Avram and he stumbled and went down. Heat scorched his cheek, but with only rock to feast on, the flames died quickly. Danel set charges and blew open the Dome’s northern door. They hurried inside. A few old men were cowering in the shadows, but it was the work of a moment to round them up and send them on their way.

Everyone knew their role. Shlomo and his men took the doors and windows, securing them and establishing lines of fire over the whole Mount. Danel and the others collected the packs and made a mound of them beneath the Dome. For his part, Avram took a bullhorn to the door. He was about to speak when a group of young Arab men armed with pickaxe handles and the like yelled out and charged. Avram watched in satisfaction as Shlomo and his comrades scythed them down. They writhed on the ground, weeping and wailing, before dragging themselves back into cover, their crippling agony certain to give other potential heroes pause for thought.

He turned the bullhorn to maximum, spoke in Arabic and English. The Dome, he vowed, would be surrendered intact once their demands were met in full. But it would be destroyed instantly at any attempts to retake it. He repeated the message until satisfied it had got through. He set a satellite modem on a ledge, acquired a signal, tuned three laptops to the news, and arranged them so that everyone could watch or at least listen. He photographed the explosives being strapped to the Dome’s pillars, then copied the images onto his own laptop. He checked Croke’s current location on a flight-tracker website. He wouldn’t be landing for a while yet, so he opened the Word document he’d written earlier, the one with the demands for the prisoner releases and for the military escort for Croke and his cargo. He cut the second demand and pasted it into a new Word document for sending out later. He made a few final tweaks to the prisoner list, composed an email to all the recipients in his address book, then attached the photographs and the prisoner list and sent it on its way.

He allowed himself a private smile. That should keep them on their toes.