“Good news,” said Ben Marks after he broke the connection, “The European Security Council have voted to support us Madam Prime Minister.”
“That's good,” concluded Israeli Minister of Finance, Moshe Oppenheimer, “the UN and the US have also made commitments to support us, but they are not the ones picking up the tab, we just cannot afford a full all out war.”
“Well we will just have to afford it Moshe, unless you want to see millions of our people murdered,” said the Minister of Defence.
“Gentlemen, please,” interrupted Prime Minister Goldbloom, “The US will supply whatever weapons we need, if required, and the EU has offered loans.”
“Need I remind everyone that we have the Ark,” commented Ben Marks, “in our history we have always prevailed when we were in possession of the Ark. That is the reason the Muslims have been trying to steal it from us, they fear us when it is in our possession.”
“Indeed Ben, they regard . . . ,” started the PM, but was interrupted by the intercom buzzing, “one moment please. Yes, what is it?”
“Madam Prime Minister, Mr. Richard Pickles is here, he is insisting on seeing you,” said the voice from the outer office.
“I will come out to see him,” Goldbloom said, flicking the intercom off, “Please excuse me for a few minutes Ministers, it seems that I am wanted outside.” The PM exited her office and left her senior ministers to talk among themselves.
“Rick, nice to see you again, what can I do for you, we are a little preoccupied at the moment so I can't spare more than a few minutes,” the PM explained.
“Madam Prime Minister, I think it's what I can do for you this time,” stated Pickles.
Five minutes later Goldbloom was taking Rick Pickles back into her office to meet her Ministers.
“Gentlemen,” she announced, “I'd like you to meet Rick Pickles, saviour of Israel.”
It took another hour for Rick Pickles to outline what he was offering Israel. Twenty years ago Rick had set up a covert division his organization, code named 'Red- onion' it had become the Pickles Defence Development Division, known to its employees a 'Triple D'. Over the two decades Triple D had developed some very sophisticated weapons, based on microwave and energy projection. In all cases there had only been limited field tests, Pickles knew they worked but had little information on practical use and capabilities.
“What I propose,” went on Pickles, “is a seven year contract, during that time my organisation will provide weaponry that will guarantee the safety of Israel, totally free of charge. In return I need the Israeli military to feed back some data on performance, capabilities, ease of use and accuracy, stuff like that. Triple D will provide training and a help and advice service, on-site. Do we have a deal,” he asked.
Moshe Oppenheimer looked delighted, and Pickles thought that he may start jumping up and down whilst clapping his hands at any minute. Everyone, other than Ben Marks were very happy with the offer, but Ben seemed a little subdued.
“Are you not happy with this offer Ben,” asked the PM. “It's just that it seems too good to be true, and if that is how it seems, then all too often it is, too good to be true, that is.”
“Minister, it is very simple, you have a desperate need for defensive and offensive weaponry and I have a need to prove my products on the battlefield,” Pickles explained.
“Maybe so, may be not,” commented Ben, “however we are not in a position to refuse.”
“Good, it's settled then,” said Rick, “I have the contract here.” Rick opened his briefcase and extracted a multi- page document, which he placed on the PM's desk.
“I will need to let our legal department review this contract,” before I sign it,” stated Goldbloom.
“OK, but we have little time to negotiate, Heidi,” said Pickles with a smug look on his face, “I have my first consignment waiting off Cyprus, we only have two days, if my sources are correct, and we need to get the weapons set up to protect you. I'm afraid to say, if we fail to stop the attack because we have no time to set things up, the deal is off.”
The Prime Minister looked shocked, she glanced around the room at her senior Ministers, and there was silence for almost half a minute. “I don't see we have any alternative Madam Prime Minister,” said Oppenheimer, the others quickly nodded their assent. “Are we all agreed then,” asked PM Goldbloom.
Every one confirmed their support, except for Ben, who said, “I'm still not happy, but I guess we are between a rock and a hard place.”
Heidi Goldbloom, Prime Minister of the most powerful state in the Middle East, flipped through the twenty pages of the Pickles contract, took a deep breath and signed the document that was placed in front of her. “Thank you Prime Minister,” Pickles said through the smirk that hung on his face, he took a Com-unit from his jacket pocket and thumbed a button, “Captain, this is Rick Pickles, authorisation seven, delta, six, six, six, beta, Romeo. You can proceed with the delivery of the Christmas present to the port of Ashdod. Make every haste captain, full speed. I will meet you there in three hours.” Pickles closed the connection and turned to the assembled Ministers and said, “Now if you will excuse me there is much I have to do,” and headed for the door. The door was open when he turned, “By the way, I assume the Ark Parade on the twenty-fifth is still to go ahead,” he asked, “that was a rhetorical question by the way, I’d like to take part in that parade, see you all on Sunday then,” he waved and the door closed, leaving everyone staring at the closed door.