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The Israeli Army have stopped fundamentalist Jews storming the Temple Mount before, knowing it would spark extreme violence. While the Arab nations fight amongst themselves, Israel is safe enough, but if they had a common goal, to defend or avenge the Temple Mount, I can see how this could end in war.”  
    Martin nodded. “That’s what Director Marietti thinks as well, which is why you’re on a plane in two hours, heading for Egypt.”  

DAY 2

Kiryat Malahi, Israel. 6.08am

    The early morning sun shone weakly down on the homes of the Falasha Jews in the settlement of Kiryat Malahi. The place would be described as a shanty town in any other part of the world, but people were shy of calling places in Israel by such third world names, even though the inhabitants were Africans airlifted out of Ethiopia in the 1990s. Avi Kabede sat in one of the basic rooms tapping on a slim laptop, his powerful smartphone a portable wifi hotspot, as he listened to the rhythmic swish of his mother’s broom on the concrete floor.  
    She swept the meager property daily before preparing a simple meal for the men who had left before dawn to find work. Mostly they wouldn’t have found anything, but they still tried for the rare laboring jobs, attempting to earn a few shekels for the family.  
    It was pathetic, Avi thought, but soon the Falasha would rise again and his brothers would have the prosperity they deserved. Once Ethiopia had been a rich country, a great and powerful nation, their kings descended from the union of the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon. Theirs was a noble nation brought low and Avi was determined to hasten the return of pride to his people, his methods based on stealth and terror.  
    This morning he was hacking into a news site, getting ready to leak the images of the Washington murder online. It had been easy enough to organize through contacts in the USA, but the resulting news story had been covered up. It was time to stoke the extremist flames.  
    Avi wore a traditional robe, his dark skin a contrast to the brilliant white his mother scrubbed so diligently of the ever-present dust. It was cool, but the garment was also a respectful way to honor his culture and the past. Avi had been just a young boy when the Ethiopian Jews had been airlifted out of their homeland for a new future in Israel, the promised land of milk and honey, a biblical paradise. After centuries of worshipping far from Jerusalem, they would be able to see the places written of in scripture.  
    Avi didn’t remember life before Israel, but the twenty years since had seen the lot of Ethiopian Jews steadily worsen in their adopted country. They had never been able to claw their way into a society that saw them as so different. Ashkenazi Jews were recognizable for their white European heritage, Sephardi Jews for their Mediterranean looks, but the black skin of Ethiopia didn’t fit. Avi had watched his community broken by murder suicides as hopeless men had taken their families with them to the next life, exhausted by the desperation in this one. Uprooted from the past, with no discernible future, some people just couldn’t cope. It seemed that the racial nature of skin color would always separate the Ethiopian Jews from others. Equally, the tribal nature of religion would always separate the Falasha from the other African nations. So they had ended up here, but for what, Avi thought.  
    The revving of a vehicle from further down the road interrupted his thoughts. Avi stood to look out the window as it screeched to a halt at the boundary of the settlement, hip hop music blaring at full volume. A young man jumped out of the passenger side, running around to the trunk of the car. He popped it open and then hauled a body out, dumping it on the dusty ground. Avi reached for his smartphone, quickly activating the camera. He zoomed it at the car, clicking away as the young man jumped back in, barely closing the door before it sped off away from the