One can say that a carefully well prepared conspiratorial plan of the America attack was disclosed.
"And let everybody speak again that Israel is a haven of thieves. But we did it! ".
Benjamin Netanyahu opened a thick grey folder. The Prime Minister, like a soldier on the front line, got used for many years for any events, but even he felt awfully. In that thick folder there were questionnaires of the military opponents who managed to resist America and start the fire of the war. Day and night, the Pentagon has been trying to identify the enemy. At the end of the folder there was a document with the classified information signed by the US Defense Secretary Chuck Hagel. On the paper there was written that the majority of the opponents were not identified.
At eleven forty PM, the Prime assembled the Committee leaders of the intelligence service "Varash". Each of those six powerful men had held the data with the prepared plan of action. Each of them was given no more than ten minutes to the report. Forty minutes later the plan code-named "A White Flower" was agreed.
- Will see? - the Prime invited everyone to see the first shots of the seizure operation the mansion in Hong Kong. There were brought tea and coffee. The shots showed in real-time as against the background of the morning there were sun four helicopters Stealth Hawk over the mansion. Two special cars in the area of the mansion muffled the whole communication. Elijah, the commander of the squadron, made the commandos a started sign inside the helicopter. Somehow, his shirt and camouflage fabric pattern "digital desert" trousers and his flask for water camelbak has been showing for a long time. Close up they show eighteen commandos armed with weapons of various calibers (favorite ones a sniper version of the mini - and micro ultrasound, assault gun Tavor Tar-21, a snipers gun the Tavor STAR 21, Sig Sauer R226 with a silencer, a tommy gun M4 and Heckler & Koch MP7). They jump on the roof, then an instant mopping-up of the mansion territory and the opening the gates, the fight in the main building and the calm after the shootout.
- Twelve minutes! – Tamir Pardo, the head of Mossad, satisfied with the work of their subordinates said with a Cheshire cat easy smile.
Spectators began leaving quickly. Of course, the involved person, who became recently known as "Maher" wasn’t in the mansion. It was clear that he would be an easy prey. But the seizure of that main warehouse was the half of the affair. With undisguised surprise, commandos found a huge library of the involved person.
But then there were new incredible shots like in Hollywood horror movies. Gentlemen stood still. Dozens of Maher’s people began getting out from some basements, like the Trojan trap. The commandos, having losses, retreated out of the gate, helicopters hit the building, but the terrorists are hiding and continue resist in an organized way. There was a pause on all screens. The Stealth Hawk starts heeling, swaying and twisting. Everyone cried with despair, when the helicopter falls into the firestorm of the burning mansion. Paled military men assembling at the Prime Minister’s place partially assume the responsibility for remote management of the battle, and trying not to lose people, to retreat in an organized way.
No one noticed that at the big table appeared the Chief Sephardic Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak. Netanyahu sat next to Isaac. They were silent, like two ancient sages. Netanyahu was touching his cell-phone, and Isaac was stroking his beard.
- It is not the first time when the paganism erects another golden calf - he said. The antidote to immortality exist, find it up and you will conquer people with it.
Benjamin has been silent for a long time. Then he asked Yosef:
- Rabi, don’t you object to the building of the Third Temple?
For a long time, they have been listening to the night and looked at their souls lights. Isaac didn’t say a single word. The time was two o’clock.
*
Three hundred different clocks at the Buckingham Palace, watched by two servants during their working day, showed eleven PM sharply. Hearing the last subdued melodic sound of the bell, the Queen of Great Britain turned off the light. At eight o'clock in the morning she will wake up, during her breakfast she will read newspapers and will retire at her office for the paperwork at nine o'clock. She had to sign hundreds of documents.
For twenty-three thousand one hundred and eighty days, she has been doing her royal work beautifully, laboriously, regularly and reliably like the clocks of the palace.
Through the open window, a gust of wind brought the freshness of the spring night with the smell of blooming roses. Sounds seemed not to reach the big sleepy town. She suddenly remembered a moment when she was a little Lilibeth and went out to the spacious terrace in the courtyard of the palace. Being the spotlight of endless official ceremonies and receptions, the front pages of newspapers, paparazzi, television, internet and rumors, she, as always, carried her royal dignity with sincere charity, but she was closed for annoying thoughts of her millions patrials. The city seemed to asleep, and she enjoyed the freedom to be herself. Memory suddenly twisted the brightest beautiful pictures. Here she is very little, playing with ponies in the garden, her first love letter to her future husband when she was thirteen years. In 1945 she is with a happy millionth crowds in London on a Victory Day, incognito, exclaiming: "We want the King!". The wedding, the birth of her first child and her sacred coronation. Let noise of the outside material world full of passion, sometimes alien to her, where prime ministers change each other, wars begin and end, empires are collapsed and new countries appear on the world map, she has its own kingdom of the finest world. And in this world there is love, her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, sincere affection and sacrifice, without any calculation.
During the day several times from heaven Albion poured large cold raindrops. Many invitees were slowly entering the wonderful Royal Chelsea Flower Exhibition, adorning with the stylish bright big umbrellas. At three PM there appeared the royal retinue like aliens troops landed. Media beat with the drumbeat, switches and buttons, ready to hear snatches of conversation in "nous" language and being overjoyed, immediately pilfer them on citations. According to the program we were offered some special nominations: for the best small fountain, a mini-garden and a bouquet of original roses. They said that finally, there was created the purple rose and, probably, it will be a favorite of the how. Everyone was waiting for Chelsea Clinton to come, who was late, having stuck in a traffic jam.
Despite of the special security measures, by some incomprehensible way some anonymous entered the accompanying crowd. An awkward bumpkin, dressed an old sweater and without an umbrella, slowly zigzagging bumping clumsily and badly into the aristocrats, saying "Pardon me" instead of "Pardon" and, in the end, he seemed to touch the elbow of the duke of Edinburgh. The royal couple at the same time turned to the place where had to be Dickie Arbiter, but instead of him there was a lanky red-headed fellow, showing in all the ways his joy and happiness. For a split second two absolutely different worlds met with eyes. Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, said a witty phrase: "You probably came here recently, and you do not have a tummy."
At the same moment, the employees of the special services accurately made the stranger out of the suite. Incredibly, the young man hardly spoke English, he had no invitation, did not have any documents and other things, except a heavy pack of twenty pound notes in his pocket.
- I think he entered the back door - smiled one of the suite.
Night star flashed through the gap of the double heavy curtains. On the white pillows there was sleeping Emma, Linnet, Monty, the palace fell asleep and Queen's Guards quietly changed each other.
Only the window of the Royal Guard chief Sapta Boyle was anxiously lighting for the whole night. He missed dinner, he was hungry and angry. The incident at the show could cost him his career. Dozens of times he mentally voiced version of that happened. The truth was so terrible and helpless that, as Sir Winston Churchill said, she had to be protected by the lie squads. He looked once more at the report of the offender’s interrogation, he remembered a categorical, slightly seeded look, and his strange behavior. Firstly, he wanted to let the foreigner go, to give the guards the blast and to hush up another funny incident. But at the end of the interrogation, when the offender asked a cigarette, everything started.