Eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds of a Sunday

You see, Jamie Glass was a workaholic. He devoured devious documents on deviants devotedly and was the chief mastermind of all of the bureau's most successful captures. While his father had been a lucrative, jet-setting, flamboyant, moneymaking billionaire-cum-Lord Viscount, Glass Jr was the reticent, dilligent boss of the country's most esoteric ministry. In fact, it was not even called a ministry but bureau; for cladestine purposes, they say.

One particularly fine evening, Glass came across a series of highly confidential documents and was highly intrigued by the odd creature featured. This creature was none other than 'the Great Unknown". Like many foolish human beings before him, Glass thought (well, he couldn't speak), "I don't believe in the unknown. The unknown is but Man's excuse for not knowing everything."

The file read something like this:
Species Name: Unknown
Also Known As: The Great Unknown
Age: Unknown
Whereabouts: Unknown
Odds of nabbing: Unknown

Glass was immensely intrigued. He pressed the lime green buzzer on his desk and summoned his wife to his side. Dahling Bel impressed him; as always. He was increasingly impressed by her uncanny ability to keep up with the latest news.

"It was last seen at L'Forte Maison Cafe with a blond transvestite. We didn't quite see it with our own eyes but when we questioned the blond, he said, 'yeh, ah dunno'," she educated her spouse. Her tone was imperturbable and cold; robotlike. To the couple, work was work. Although they did occasionally break their self-imposed regulations, they abided to them almost piously for most part. They preferred not to sit together for lunch at the staff canteen in order to not arouse suspicions that they were seeing each other, since no one knew that they were actually married as there had been no ceremony or invited guests at all. "Such rumours would put us in the most hideous of scenarios. They'd spread like wildfire," Treadwell told her husband once. She was obviously not in the know. They also preferred to forget their maritial responsibilities to each other from nine to seven, seven days a week. Yes, Sunday too. Neither observed the Sabbath. Their rationale behind this was their reasoning that 'every second could bring a villianous varmint closer to their fingertips, so why waste the precious eighty-six thousand and four hundred seconds of a Sunday?'

Glass sucked on his pencil. *He observed that it had a rather sweet flavour. With a businessman like air, he let its tip drop and drew the bold outline of a star on the top right hand corner of the page; the same sort teachers did on outstanding test scripts. Jamie Glass now had a new assignment.

*- Author's Note: Some people are just strange!