Robert Walsh looked at the vast array of weaponry that filled the room. There were pistols and handguns of every persuasion, most of which he didn’t recognise other than the revolver and what looked to him to be a Walther PPK; wasted Bank Holiday Mondays in front of the TV watching the obligatory James Bond movies didn’t seem so wasted after all.
Every inch of table was covered, as well as most of the floor and any other flat surface available. People swarmed about, checking firing mechanisms; filling magazines; cleaning chambers; readying things for the upcoming war.
Robert shuddered when he saw what he thought was a bazooka in the corner jutting out from behind the office door, but the feeling passed quickly when he realised that it was just the projection screen rolled up and in its travel case. Little did he know that hidden behind the door was a portable rocket launcher.
A colleague of Lars had purchased it on Ebay a few months previously and shipped it over to him when he had requested some assistance. It still amazed him that it was able to get there without being confiscated, but in his experience it had never been a problem before. There were always ways around things.
“This is insane,” he muttered.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Janice, the receptionist, carrying something in her arms. He spun around wondering what weapon she had allied herself with, only to find that it was a tea tray with several mugs of coffee on top and a plate of chocolate digestive biscuits.
“Coffee Mr Walsh?” she asked sweetly.
“Uh, no,” he said. “Thanks all the same.”
“Mr Lars said that the troops should be awake and alert for battle,” she said.
“I’m fine, really,” he said, smiling nervously.
“This is so exciting isn’t it?” she asked, looking around at the chaos. “Never thought I’d be involved in something like this, did you?”
Robert felt his stomach do flip flops. He needed to go to the toilet as nerves were loosening his bowels and had done so for the past two hours.
“No, no I never did,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Go for it,” Janice said. “I have to give succour to the troops.”
With that she stood to attention and, balancing the tray of hot beverage in one hand, saluted him.
“Yes,” he said, and attempted to return the salute, although half-heartedly.
“Just doing my bit for the cause,” she announced as he rushed past her on the way to the gents.
Robert burst through the door and leapt into the nearest cubicle. He slammed the door shut and locked it, all the while fighting to control the reaction that was building up inside of him, desperate for release. He pulled down his trousers and fell back onto the toilet.
“You know,” he said softly, almost to himself, “If the bank manager could see this I’m pretty sure he won’t be approving the extra funding we’ve requested.”