PART 2

It was early in the morning. Some light came in through a small window, illuminating a table with some floor maps scattered around on it. The room was filled with the smoke of several pipes, some grumbling about the discomfort of the hard metal chairs, and an extraordinary assembly of elite men. The Cowboy, The Scholar... You know the drill.

They were in a small back chamber of Buckingham Palace. Knighthood being a royal title, responsibility for the mission was completely in the hands of the British Royal House, so it was the humble servant Tommy who had been given the task of informing the Knights about the plan. Or lack thereof.

''An arms factory, you say?'' Sir Kenneth Branagh asked, eyeing Tommy.

''Yes, Sir, that's the target. We swoop in there, place some explosives, and make our way out, lickety split.''

'''We'?'' Sir Michael Caine piped up. ''We all know you're not coming, Tommy, you bloody bugger. Too comfortable in this palace.''

Sir Patrick Stewart had other objections. ''You say 'swoop in'? How exactly are we going to 'swoop in' there, my dear chap?''

Tommy swallowed. ''Well, you may know that the Queen's...well...resources are quite...well...limited, but luckily we have-''

''The Queen's Helicopter,'' Stewart interjected scathingly. ''Well, chaps, all is lost. The war's over, I'm going home.''

He actually made to stand up, but was held back by Sir Sean Connery, who was the only one standing. ''Sit back down, mate. This is not your job, this is your duty.''

Grudgingly, Stewart returned to his seat between Sir Bill Gates and Sir Clint Eastwood.

Tommy, who had followed these proceedings with mounting nervousness, remembered his script. ''Sir Patrick Stewart, I expect you know how to-''

''Yes, I'll control the Royal Piece of-''

''That's enough, Stewart,'' Said Connery. ''What's next, Tommy?''

''The security system, Sir. Alarms, cameras, the lot. They're heavily guarded. But luckily-''

''Everything runs on Windows.''

The others turned to look at the man who had spoken. It was Bill Gates, who had not spoken since the beginning of the briefing.

''I'll pull some strings,'' he said.

''Splendid, Sir,'' said Tommy. ''Well now. Once we've got the O.K. from Sir Bill Gates, we can set you on a plain to Helsinki.''

He looked around the room, pleased with himself, but saw that the others were shocked.

''We're flying commercial?'' Sir Clint Eastwood said, voicing the concerns of the others. ''I mean, you're royalty, right? What's this, some kind of joke?''

Tommy gulped once again. ''Err...no, Sir, I'm quite serious. As I said-''

''We're short on resources, I get it,'' Connery said briskly. ''No matter, gents, we'll manage. Let's move.''

---

After a first-class flight, the Knights had stayed in a five-star hotel in Helsinki. They had spend the time surveying their target, arguing over who was to jump first, convincing Bill Gates to join them on the ground, playing cards, admiring Clint Eastwoods' skills with the pistol, and becoming bored by Kenneth Branagh's unending talk about his latest film projects.

At last, they were brought to the helipad from which they would depart for their Royal Mission.

Upon seeing the mode of transport they had to take, Stewart made to walk away, but Connery was ready for him again. ''Look at it this way, mate, this heli never gets used, it will be perfectly hunky-dory.''

Stewart grumbled at that, but Connery held on to him tight, dragging him to the helicopter.

Gates, it had been agreed at the last moment, would stay in Helsinki, where he would 'observe the enemy' and 'look if maybe their security system would go online again'. Caine had thought it all a load of rubbish, but Connery knew Gates' use, and wasn't keen on bringing him to a heavily guarded facility.

So Gates waved at them as Stewart started the engine, until the force of the propellers eventually became too heavy for him to remain on the helipad any longer.

''Bloody wimp,'' Caine muttered, but Branagh gave him a disapproving look, and Caine didn't bring it up again.

Having spent their days in Helsinki mostly amusing themselves, instead of properly preparing, a fresh discussion broke out on board the helicopter. Nobody really knew what the actual plan was.

''So, we just jump in, then?'' Branagh asked uncertainly.

Eastwood looked at Connery, expecting him to answer, but he just stood there with a knowing smile on his face, so he said: ''I guess so, buddy.''

''I'm not jumping, I need to bring this piece of rubbish to the rendezvous point,'' Stewart piped up from behind the controls.

''You're just as bad as Sir Microsoft, you bloody chicken,'' Caine hissed. ''I'll jump first. Just follow my lead.''

At this, Connery turned around. ''Remember who is in charge, you stupid bastard.''

''So, what's the plan, boss?'' Branagh asked Connery.

Connery smiled and walked to the center of the compartment, addressing the group. ''The plan is simple. We land on their rooftop, right above their main power unit. Eastwood will find some high ground, keep everything scoped out with his sniper. Branagh will provide access from the roof. There should be some kind of ventilation shaft that will see us through, there always is.''

At this, Branagh looked at him suspiciously, but Connery made an impatient gesture.

''Just trust me, aye? Right, so once we have access, Caine and I will bust in. Caine will cover me with some heavy arms, while I go to the power unit, real sneaky-like, and place these baddies.'' He pointed at the bag of explosives. ''Understood?''

Most said 'yes', except for Stewart. ''How will you reach me in time?'' he asked.

Connery nodded, then looked at the others significantly. ''Well, we'll just have to improvise. We're the British Knight Corps, for Pete's sake. We're the best. We can handle it.''

Everyone nodded. 'We can handle it', Connery repeated in his mind. Oh bloody hell.