Angelo Giordano, was the senior geologist for the EGMA, an EU organisation that was set up just weeks ago to monitor all of the volcanic activity within the EU member boundaries. Angelo formally the Italian government's advisor on geology wished he'd been a volcanoligist, his specialism was with oil and gas deposits and the occasional investigation when accidents happened. Angelo was in his late forties and rather over-weight, with a huge mop of unruly hair that he never seemed to get around to having cut. He had been wearing the same corduroy jacket and suede shoes ever since anyone could remember, and he had never learned to tie his neck-tie properly, or so everyone thought. He was also one of the few people left who insisted on continuing to smoke cigarettes, despite the many bans and health warnings. Amazingly Angelo was married to an ex-model and had two beautiful teenage girls, all of whom regarded Angelo almost as a demigod.
Angelo sat at the computer terminal staring at the screen that displayed the start-up screen of the specially written software that had just been installed. He had spent the last two weeks consulting with the program developers and now he needed to figure out how the darn thing worked. He understood the geology behind the program but they had also incorporated a modified marine navigation program to help, supposedly, to make predictions on the fissures and trenches that had started appearing. Georges Russo had been appointed as his deputy and was a whiz with computers, but he was off interviewing the first wave of potential staff. Angelo found the access to the American satellite's feed and sat in wonderment of the jagged enhanced line of the fissure, which seemed to have straightened it course over the past few days. It had been estimated that the fissure was heading for the Nile Delta, but had then turned north-east, so the red- alert for Egypt had been downgraded.
Angelo, in an attempt to try out this section of the software, decided to attempt a plot of the projected trajectory of the fissure. The latest fault lines beneath the sea and on land and also the places where the crust was thinnest, were already programmed in, so all Angelo had to do was to register the points where the fissure changed direction and connect them with vector line. All this seemed very easy and was going well. The plot completed he asked the computer to extrapolate the likely destination.
The computer uttered the word, “working” and Angelo sat back in his chair to take another bite of the pastry, and washed it down with some synthetic-coffee, just then the display showed the destination point. Angelo nearly choked on his mouthful of pastry and coffee, the flashing red spot was situated right in the centre of Jerusalem. As he zoomed in he realised that the precise location was . . Ammazza!!
Angelo lifted his desk COM and connected with the EU embassy a short walk away, the asked to speak to the Special Envoy, who was his contact and effectively his boss. Brendan O'Connor, a long serving Irish diplomat, answered the call and Angelo explained the situation, “Are you absolutely sure about this Angelo,” Brendan asked.
“As sure as I can be, I have run the prediction three times with the same result,” answered Angelo.
“OK, keep tracking it and checking the target, I'll contact the Israeli Embassy and get the ball rolling over there, Thanks Angelo, good Job.”
Heidi Goldbloom's face was almost white as she closed the connection with the Italian Embassy, she felt sick to her stomach and her hands were trembling. Thoughts of what had happened in Crete a few months ago when through her mind, was this going to happen to her beloved city. PM Goldbloom sat, or rather collapsed into her high-back leather chair and stared at the far wall for some minutes before leaning forward and tapping the icon that connected her to her Minister of Security, Benjamin Marks.
“Good afternoon Prime Minister, what can I do for you today,” came Ben Marks' voice.
“Can you get over here, please Ben, we have a really big problem, and I really don't want to talk over this link.” the PM asked.
“Of course Prime Minister, I'll be there there in about ten minutes.”
True to his word, Minister Marks was in the outer office in just nine minutes and was directed to go straight into the PM's office.
“Ben, thanks for coming, please sit.”
“Whatever is the problem, you are as white as a sheet,” he asked.
“I have just spoken to our embassy in Rome, the new EGMA have worked out where the Cretan fissure is headed,” she said with the words choking her, ”it's headed here.”
“To Israel, where about,” Ben asked.
“Here Ben, Jerusalem, in fact specifically the Temple Mount.”
“How long do we have,” asked Ben.
“I asked that, a few months it seems, at the rate the thing is progressing, but it has changed direction several times already, so it's not one hundred percent certain, but they say very likely.”
“I think we should start planning an evacuation, now,” suggested Ben, “we don't need to make it public unless we have to, no point in causing panic.”
“Agreed.”
“In fact,” said Ben half in thought, “we already have a plan in place, a contingency from back in the bad old days of the Arab wars.”
“I'd like a brief on the feasibility by the end of the week.”
“No problem Prime Minister, you'll have it.”