Rick Pickles arrived at his new headquarters building at exactly nine o'clock. Rather than land his executive LIMO on the roof, he pulled up outside the building's main entrance where the media had set up camp two days before, and where thousands of onlookers had also gathered. He alighted from the transportation and waved toward the assembled masses. He gave a few words to the media and entered the building through the bullet-proof glass doors. It had taken the Israeli government just two days to convert and equip the multi story office block, formerly the Ministry of Transportation, into a government headquarters. Pickles took the elevator to the top floor and entered his office for the first time.
The office overlooked the Temple Mount through a full wall of glass, blast and bullet-proof of course. The large desk was at one end, so that Rick to see the magnificent view, and was made of rare hard-woods, including a magnificent walnut surface beneath a topper of hard transparent sheet. The office was some twenty meters long and around twelve meters wide with the windows along the long side equipped with opaque controls to shade against the afternoon sun and privacy. The glass for once was a product of Pilkington Glass rather than the product of the Pickles Corporation. At the opposite end to the desk was an informal area with a low table and easy chairs and a long couch, which sat upon carpets that covered the polished wooded floor. It was an impressive office.
Rick stood looking out at the scene to the west, lost in his thoughts, when there came a knock on the door, at first he ignored it thinking that his, yet to be appointed, PA would handle the visitor. The realisation that he had no PA prompted him to call out, “Come in.” Someone he had never seen before entered the office with a hand outstretched.
“Mr President,” said the stranger, I am Edward Cohen, Sir, Mrs Goldbloom has sent me over to act as your PA until you make your own appointment. I have been the Prime Minister's Private Secretary for almost eight years and before that I was in Israel's diplomatic service.”
“Good to have you on-board Edward,” said the President still shaking Cohen's hand.
“Please, call me Ed, Sir, if you call me Edward no one will know who you are talking about,” Ed said, and then got straight to business, “What would you want me to do Mr. President?”
“Straight to work then Ed, I like that. Firstly, we need to start to get some sort of plan together to bring all the nations together, and then we need to assemble an interim council, of maybe twelve representatives from the twelve major nations, or unions. What was your position in the diplomatic service Ed,” asked Rick.
“I was a legal attaché, Sir, I obtained a masters in law at London University and then a doctorate at Cambridge.
“That Ed, will be really useful,” said Rick, slapping Ed on the back. “To make a start, I need you to identify the twelve of the world's most powerful nations and then contact each one, tell them they have seven days to appoint a senator. I want the first senate meeting next Wednesday, the twenty-ninth, at ten in the morning. Any nation that misses the meeting will not be represented, until after the elections of course, but that could take few years to organise.”
“What would be your definition of a powerful nation, Sir?”
“Good question, I suggest you get a formulae together based on sphere of influence in foreign affairs, military strength, commercial level, GDP, standard of living index and any other factors you can think of. Assign a numerical value to each and get a total result.”
“Right Sir,” said Ed, “I'll get right onto it. I assume that is my office outside?”
“For the time being Ed, I will need you close at hand,” said the new President, “by the way, count the UK as one of your twelve, and of course Israel.”
Fred Matthews placed his tea-cup down on the table and took a deep breath, “Our next item is to nominate someone to become a Senator – designate, in this world government that we all seem to have agreed to. We received a communication from President Pickles, that really sticks in my throat; asking that we send someone to next Wednesday's meeting or we will be excluded, in honesty I didn't like the tone of the message.”
“It seemed to me that it was just to the point and succinct,” commented Henry Harden, the Home Secretary, “President Pickles is a no nonsense kind of man, Personally I think the UN made a good choice.”
“That may as be, but we, Britain I mean, didn't actually vote,” Foreign Secretary Arnold reminded the cabinet, “there was no point it was going to be passed either way.”
“Well I know that MI5 and Sir James have serious reservations about this World Government idea, and more so about Pickles,” the Prime Minister came back, “It seems that he's rather power mad, his file says, and I quote, 'Eric Pickles seems to have a god complex, he is certainly a control freak who tries to control the lives of his more senior employees.' so I think we should tread very carefully.”
“Do you have any preferences as to who our Senator should be Prime Minister,” asked Daniel Grieves, the UK Defence Minister.
“I do actually,” said Prime Minister Matthews, “Do you know of David Luther,” the majority shook their heads,
the remainder made no indication at all, “David is employed by MI5 but has been on detachment to MI6 for several years, he's been stationed at our embassy in Columbia as a legal attaches and has a keen analytical mind. He was my best advisor when I was Foreign Secretary, he's someone I trust. You will find his full CV in your folders, take a few minutes to read it through,” the Prime Minister asked. There was silence as the Cabinet read the document, which was marked as 'TOP SECRET' Restricted Access. Slowly a few slow nods started around the table, showing approval of the Cabinet members. Five minutes later PM Matthews asked, “Do we have agreement on this?”
The only dissenting voice came from Henry Harden, who was looking quite angry, “With the greatest respect Prime Minister you cannot nominate a 'spook' for a position like this. Being a Senator is an administrative job, a diplomat, we need someone who will help mould policy not someone who will spy on another President.”
“Henry, everyone, except yourself, has some suspicions about our friend Pickles,” said the PM, “I for one want to know what's in out World President's mind and I need an analyst on the spot. Besides, Luther is a proven statesman, he has degrees in politics, law, corporate law, and a dozen others. He will do the job Henry and he will not be sucked into Pickles' dreams of god-ship.”
“Maybe”, allowed Harden, “but I don't think it's fair on Rick, we should be supporting him, he is British after all.”
“And we will Henry, as long as he plays the game, but on the chance that he looks like being corrupted by the immense power, I want someone on the inside,” said Matthews, flatly.