‘I just had the most extraordinary conversation with the Chief over at the kempeitai' - Number Three said beaming from ear to ear.

He had walked into Number Two’s office at the slaughterhouse. The secret service were stationed in a disused slaughterhouse on the outskirts of Victorious. They liked to be away from the ministry, and the operations team. They also liked the foreboding environment, and the effect it had on suspects brought in for questioning.

The secret service referred to the operations team as the kempeitai - the name of the former secret police of Imperial Japan. There was no dress code at the secret service. No charcoal gray suits, crisp white shirts, or trilby hats. Everything was very casual. Everyone was an intelligence officer - no other ranks - except for Number Four, Number Three, Number Two, and Number One.

‘Oh really?’ - Number Two asked - ‘What did he say, “Sorry old boy, but we have shot all of the suspects”.’

“No, I think that extraordinary conversation comes later” - Number Three closed the door and sat down - “No, he wanted to hand over the target list for the dock worker associates of Lancelot. He said that he wanted to share the work - give us something to contribute until Bedivere surfaces. Us and the kempeitai working together for - and I quote - “the greater good”.’

‘The greater fucking what…?’

‘I told you it was an extraordinary conversation.’

‘Has the wicked witch put a spell on him?’

‘Maybe. He is sending the files over now.’

Number two had fought in the war - most of it on the losing side. He had served as a colonel in military counterintelligence, rooting out revolutionary spies. He had caught many of them - shot some of them himself. Near the end - when all the cards were on the table and it was obvious he was on the side with the losing hand, he made a deal with the People’s Revolutionary Army to give up the plans for the final battles in return for the lives of his men and himself. He was spared - his actions shortened the war by several months. After the war he was reeducated (not too much wailing and crying), given a medal, party membership, and a new job doing his old job. But his men did not fare so well. The lucky ones were shot. The unlucky ones were gassed. All of them - 38 men - ended up going through a woodchipper and becoming fertilizer for the People’s Ministry of Agriculture and Farming. But all is fair in love and war.

‘He is sending them now?’

‘Ministry courier.’

‘This is indeed extraordinary. How many files?’

‘12.’

‘I guess the odds of us getting suspects with a pulse have improved - so what’s the plan Number Three?’

‘12 targets, three snatch teams - what’s the time?’

‘2 PM.’

‘All the targets are on the night shift at the docks - so there’s a pretty good chance they will all be home until at least 10 PM. I think we can have them all bagged up and back here tucked in for the night before 9.’

‘And you think this is kosher - this kempeitai line about “working for the greater good”?’

‘I don’t give a fuck about whatever crazy shit the Super and the wicked witch have going on - the kempeitai were going to bag the targets up anyway and hand them over to us. At least now we can get warm packages and cut out the keystone cops. The sooner we get the targets in a room, the sooner we can start putting together a more complete picture of Lancelot.’

‘And Bedivere?’

‘Nothing yet. Still within the contact window, apparently. The kempeitai are still expecting contact to be made by early tomorrow morning.’

‘Sandbagging…?’

‘Who the fuck knows? Maybe the fuckers shot him by mistake!’

‘Okay - greenlight from me on Operation Greater Good. As soon as the courier arrives - send me the files.’

‘Roger that.’

Number Three had missed the war - Just a boy. The war hadn’t missed his family though. His father, uncle, and older brother all served the revolutionaries and had died for them. In his flat he had their battle ribbons kept in an old cigar box. When he was 16 he joined the People’s Militia. When he was 18, he transferred from the Militia to the People’s Expeditionary Force, and when he was 22, he transferred from the People’s Expeditionary Force to the Clandestine Operations Directorate or COD, for short. At the COD he specialized in covert direct action - he was an assassin. He was part of an international direct action team tasked with tracking accused war criminals, former political officials, and members of the monarchy - locating them, and then dispatching them to the afterlife. After 10 years in the COD he lost active duty status due to a knife wound he suffered that limited his ability to lift his left arm above his shoulder. He sat at a desk job at COD for a few years - and was then approached by the People’s Ministry for State Security and Policing to join their secret service division as Number Three - and to join the fight against the Unit. Number Three had many admirers at the People’s Ministry; his work in the field had brought some of the party’s most hated nemesis’ to the People’s justice.

‘Number Four - my office.’

Number Four was eating a sandwich. He put the sandwich down on his desk and hurried to Number Three’s office.

Number Three was sitting behind a cluttered desk.

‘Operation Greater Good!’ - Number Three said, smiling.