‘Bedivere is dead…?’ - The deputy-minister was talking into the phone.

The deputy-minister was in her luxurious office. A giant room with floor to ceiling windows on the 42nd floor of the People’s Ministry of State Security and Policing.

She was sitting in a black Barcelona chair with a dull looking woman wearing a domestic help uniform kneeling in front of her. The dull looking woman was giving the deputy-minister a pedicure. The deputy-minister was wearing a white spa robe and had her feet resting on a plush black ottoman. The dull looking woman was picking and scraping at the deputy-minister’s toes.

‘Not so fucking hard!’ - The deputy-minister shrieked at the dull woman.

‘Sorry ma'am’ - said the dull woman, not looking up.

The deputy-minister’s office was more like a Manhattan penthouse apartment. Beautiful furniture and objets d’art filled the space. A painting of water lilies sitting upon a pond hung on the wall - and soft jazz was playing over the sound system.

‘Not you’ - the deputy-minister said into the phone.

The deputy-minister was holding the phone with her neck. In one hand she held a thin cigar, and in the other a glass of bubbling champagne. On the side table next to her was a crystal ashtray, and a crystal bowl with plump black grapes.

‘Did your fucking death squad shoot him? - The deputy-minister asked in a huff, puffing on her cigar and swigging champagne - ‘Enough - get away from me!’ - The deputy-minister yelled, pulling her feet away from the dull woman. ‘NOW!’ - The deputy-minister shouted again. The dull woman picked up her pedicure tools and stood and walked away, leaving the office and closing the door behind her.

‘Fucking proles!’ - The deputy-minister muttered.

‘So who are you planning on shooting next Superintendent?’

‘Deputy-minister - Bedivere was discovered dead by the secret service’ - said the Superintendent - ‘I am suggesting that we reconvene our Operation Camelot working group in order to establish next steps. The weapon used to murder Bedivere is linked to a number of political assassinations - party members, deputy-minister.’

‘Party members?’

‘Yes deputy-minister - party members. We should reconvene, discuss next steps. The scoundrel Percival is the target now. Bedivere will be for the woodchipper. We have the Gawain targets - and it would please you to know that they are all alive.’

‘Did you run out of bullets, Superintendent?’ - The deputy-minister snorted and laughed.

‘Whilst the secret service are softening up the Gawain targets - we should meet again and plan the next step for when we identify Percival’ - said the Superintendent.

‘Okay - I will call Number Two and see what he thinks. Goodbye Superintendent’ - the Deputy Minister hung up.

‘GET ME NUMBER TWO ON THE PHONE!’ - Screamed the deputy-minister to no one in particular.

The assistant deputy-minister walked into the office from a bedroom, wearing nothing but a pair of black Speedo style swimming trunks while smoking a cigarette. He walked over to the deputy-minister and picked up the phone from the side table. He dialed zero.

‘The slaughterhouse’ - he said and waited.

‘What?’ - Said a voice on the other end of the line.

‘Deputy-minister for Number Two’ - said the assistant deputy-minister.

The line clicked and then went quiet - and then clicked again.

‘Number Two’ - said Number Two.

‘Hang on’ - said the assistant deputy-minister, and handed the phone to the deputy-minister.

The deputy-minister took the phone and said - ‘Number Two?’

The assistant deputy-minister walked away, back to the bedroom off from the main office.

‘Deputy-minister - what a pleasant surprise’ - said Number Two.

‘Sorry to pull you away from your important work in your dungeons, Number two’ - said the deputy-minister puffing on her cigar and swigging more champagne.

‘We are never too busy with our work to talk to you, deputy-minister. How can I help?’

‘The Superintendent wants another meeting - I understand you have Bedivere and he had his head shot off. Is this correct?’

‘Correct deputy-minister - we discovered Bedivere deceased. The weapon used to…’

‘Yes, I know. “Political assassinations” - lots of them!’ - Said the deputy-minister.

‘Correct again deputy-minister. 17 in total. We might be getting closer to Percival.’

‘So you want this meeting?’ - Asked the deputy-minister, puffing her cigar.

‘Yes - not the full house this time, however. No need for us to all make our way to the 16th floor. I would suggest Number Four, the Inspector, and your man - to take notes and report back to you.’

‘He’s not much of a note taker, my man. And when do you want this meeting?’

‘I think we should reconvene tomorrow deputy-minister.’

‘Very well’ - the deputy-minister hung up.

“GET ME THE SUPERINTENDENT ON THE PHONE’ - The deputy-minister screamed.

The assistant deputy-minister walked back into the room. He picked up the phone and dialed zero, tapping his foot in wait.

‘Superintendent, 16th floor’ - he said.

‘Superintendent's office, 16th floor’ - said the Superintendent's assistant.

‘Deputy-minister for the Superintendent’ - the assistant deputy-minister replied.

‘Hold the line’ - said the Superintendent's assistant.

The line clicked and went quiet - then clicked again.

‘Deputy-minister?’ - The Superintendent said over the line.

The assistant deputy-minister handed the phone to the deputy-minister and walked away.

‘Tomorrow for your meeting?’

‘Perfect’ - said the Superintendent.

‘Number Two doesn’t want a full house. He doesn’t want to come to the 16th floor - and neither do I for that matter.’

‘Very good’ - said the Superintendent.

‘Number Four, the Inspector - and my man to keep an eye on you all’ - said the deputy-minister, swigging the last of her champagne - ‘hang on comrade.’

‘MORE CHAMPAGNE!’ - She screamed out.

The assistant deputy-minister came back out of the side room. He wandered to the large glass coffee table and pulled a bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. He walked to the deputy-minister and filled her champagne glass. He then took the champagne bottle back to the ice bucket, and then wandered back to the bedroom.

The deputy-minister lit another cigar and puffed and swigged some champagne.

‘Very good deputy-minister’ - said the Superintendent.

‘Okay - give Number Two a call and let my office know where and when’ - the deputy-minister hung up and puffed on her cigar.