Newton’s Fire

FORTY-FIVE
I

‘Oh sweet Jesus,’ said Rachel. ‘He thinks he’s the Prince of Rome. He thinks he’s the fucking Antichrist.’

‘He’s crazy,’ agreed Luke. ‘He’s completely crazy.’

Rachel pulled an anguished face. ‘But what if there’s something to it? I mean, he’s got a point, hasn’t he? The Ark, the Newton prophecies, all the wars and earthquakes, the disease and famine. How many coincidences can there be before they stop being coincidences?’

‘There are always wars and earthquakes. Always disease and famine. And when are the Catholics not in turmoil? And forget Newton’s prophecies. He wasn’t a date-setter. He abhorred that kind of thing. He made his predictions to tamp down Second Coming fervour, not to exacerbate it. Anyway, he always said that the End Times couldn’t begin until certain things had come to pass — not that they would begin when they had.’

‘What about the 1260 years? Is that true?’

Luke grimaced. ‘Yes. But so what? Newton never linked it to the Second Donation of Pepin. He mentioned Pepin, yes, but only along with Phocas and Charlemagne and plenty of other possibilities. All Jay did was pick his preferred date, subtract 1260 from it, and see what fitted.’

‘And how about us finding the Ark today of all days?’

‘We found it today because these people went to extraordinary lengths to make sure we did. You think they’d have dug up St Paul’s if they hadn’t needed it till next year?’

‘I suppose.’

‘Listen to me,’ said Luke. ‘There’s nothing ordained about all this. There’s nothing destined. We can still stop it. We have to stop it. If we don’t, it’ll be a bloodbath. Millions of people will die.’

She rattled her handcuff. ‘Fine. But how?’

‘By keeping our nerve. By waiting for our moment. It’ll come. And when it does, we have to seize it. No hesitation. No holding back. No regrets.’

Rachel gave a determined nod. ‘No regrets,’ she agreed.