"So you're Zam? It's so good to finally meet you." The man extended his hand and Zam shook. "The name's Duncan Jones, head of the Monetary Policy Committee."

"Yes, I think I recall seeing you on the news when Johto's economy wasn't doing particularly well," Zam replied as he eyed up the man.

"A minor miscalculation in the setting of interest rates that caused a much over exaggerated response in the press. The problem was quickly and easily resolved."

Duncan gestured for Zam to step forwards and thus, his tour began. After winning The Apprentice with absolute ease by simply picking off the completely idiotic contestants one by one, Lord Salt had sent Zam to the headquarters of the Monetary Policy Committee, led by Duncan Jones to start their business ventures together. Of course, Zam had no interest in starting a business with Lord Salt; all he needed was money and information and this was the perfect way to gain access to it.

They walked briskly towards the tallest skyscraper in all of Goldenrod which was apparently the only building large enough to contain the MPC's egos. The tower was at least twice the size of any neighbouring building and so it dominated the scenery, looming over all other structures as if it were looking down upon them. The blazing sun reflected off of its glass walls, intensifying the unseasonal heat even further, so much so that even Zam, in his white suit began to sweat. When the pair were close enough, the automatic doors slid open and Zam was in the foyer. Thankfully, the air conditioning was on full blast and so he was quickly able to cool down. He took a brief glance at the large open space but was bored by its cleanliness and order. There were some bored looking security guards who weren't really checking who was coming in and some even more bored looking receptionists who Zam felt quite certain were sleeping on the job.

He then turned his attention to his tour guide. Duncan looked like a proud man. As he entered the building he took a deep breath and smiled an incredibly smug smile, showing his extraordinarily white teeth. Clearly, the man was rich and proud of it. His blue tailored suit was top of the range, at least five times more expensive than Zam's signature white suit and he spent half the time checking his real Rolex purely just to show off his wealth. His well-kept goatee and well-groomed blond hair showed no signs of greying, possibly due to the enormous amount of product he used, judging by the odd scent of strawberries that emanated from him. Still, Zam could see a hint of hunger and a hint of greed in those devilish blue eyes. He had a feeling that Duncan Jones wasn't quite content with his money and wanted something more.

"The lifts are just through here," Duncan pointed and Zam followed. "You'll need to get used to using these, you'll be working on the thirtieth floor." Despite the number of floors they needed to travel, the lift got them to their location in mere seconds.

They stepped out of the lift walked a few feet to a set of large glass doors which they pushed open and then Zam was very disappointed. It was an office block. A regular old, boring, nothing special about it whatsoever office block. The lifts were in the middle in a large square and then rows of computers, desks, chairs and workers were stationed around the square. The people tapped away at their keyboards mindlessly, doing absolutely nothing productive. Zam wondered if they realised their existence was completely meaningless.

"And this would be your desk here." Duncan showed Zam a space in between a brain-dead adolescent and an actually dead old woman.

"No, sorry, I have an IQ of roughly five thousand but not even I can think properly when confronted with the smell of a rotting corpse."

"I'm not dead!" the woman protested, jumping to life.

"Ah! Zombie!" Zam cried, literally jumping several feet in the air. It suddenly occurred to Zam that she had never really been dead, just resting her eyes. And maybe that was just what she smelt like normally. In any case, he couldn't work here. He couldn't even pretend to work here. "Um, what I meant to say is I feel like I can offer my services better... a little higher up."

"Lord Salt has already invested two hundred and fifty thousand Poképounds into your business plan. Your job is to use that investment wisely in order to turn a profit."

"And if you've been keeping up with the show, I can clearly do that and more," Zam argued. "I know I'm new around here but I think you could use a brain like mine."

"Are you actually suggesting what I think you are?" Duncan asked, a shocked expression written all over his face. "You want to be a member of the committee?"

"Yes. I feel like I could make a great asset to your team," Zam replied with confidence. Duncan scanned him with his eyes for almost an entire minute before grinning.

"You've got guts kid. I'll show you our office." They walked back to the lift where Duncan used some kind of special key card to go up to the fortieth floor. Once there, Zam was a little more impressed.

Each side of this floor seemed to belong to one person, the main four members of the committee and Zam was very intrigued to find out more about each member. The first decorated desk he looked at belonged to none other than his business partner, Lord Salt. It housed pictures of the greying man and his family as well as many signed pictures from what was apparently his favourite sports team.

"Of course, you've met Lord Salt many a time," Duncan said. "He's the business expert of the MPC. He helps gather information about private firms and business and advises us on how to use that information to help better the economy."

The next desk was only home to one picture and was more overloaded with paperwork and files. Zam picked up the frame and looked at a blonde woman in a black gown and a rather silly looking hat. She was smiling and holding a certificate. Apparently, she had just graduated from law school.

"This is Crawford's desk," Duncan explained. "Crawford is the MPC's lawyer. With the best lawyer in the world on our side, we've never lost a case."

"So, this is Crawford?" Zam asked.

"No," Duncan replied, avoiding Zam's eyes. "She was once Crawford's lover. They worked at the same law firm before we signed Crawford on as our lawyer. The two separated."

"Well that's very unfortunate to hear," Zam replied, trying to sound as sincere as possible. He guessed that a split in a relationship was a bad thing.

"Anyways, best not to dwell on the past," Duncan said, a smile returning to his face instantly. "Over here is my brother Melvin's desk. We call him the accountant. He's the numbers man and a brilliant statistician. I don't know where we'd be without him."

Zam stopped paying attention to Duncan's words and skirted over to the only desk that mattered to him. It had taken twelve weeks of manipulating idiotic entrepreneurs but he'd finally gained access to Melvin Jones' desk. Whilst Duncan raved on about his own job in the committee, Zam gathered enough information from the various photographs and awards that were scattered around Melvin's desk to correctly determine his password.

He glanced over at Duncan. He had his back turned and was far too busy blabbering on about the importance of the MPC and how they had saved the region from economic turmoil to notice what Zam was doing. His fingers moved incredibly quickly across the keyboard, unlocking the computer with the word 'Melvin'. He had to suppress a chuckle when he was correct. The man was incredibly self-obsessed. Of course, his password would be his own name. Even billionaire poker champions were idiots.

Once in, Zam made his way to emails, hoping to find something incriminating that he could use as proof for the cheat that Melvin allegedly was. He found something but it wouldn't exactly do as far as proof went. A series of emails sent back and forth between Melvin and a group of dealers arranging a meeting. It was suspicious but not technically cheating. What he really needed to see were some financial records but there was no way even he could hack into a bank account in a matter of seconds. It looked as though he would need to use Lord Salt's money after all. He was going to have to find some proof in person. Still, he took some pictures of the emails with his phone, just in case.

"An organisation such as this cannot survive without the correct staff. I've spent years making this committee as strong as it is and that starts with the right people..." Duncan was still droning on about the MPC. He hadn't noticed any of what Zam had done.

"But what exactly is it that you four do here?" Zam asked. Duncan turned around like some kind of dramatic Patrat as if he'd only just realised that Zam hadn't listened to a word he'd said. "I mean I get that you control interest rates to try and control inflation to help the economy but what does that have to do with importing Pokémon?"

"What?"

"Well, I couldn't help notice when we walked in that a truck had just pulled up outside the offices that started unloading crates. Crates that were hissing. How often do you need to import Pokémon to help save the economy?"

"The crates you saw contained Seviper," Duncan answered immediately. "We're importing them from Hoenn to try and help with the overwhelming outbreak of Zangoose around the Safari Zone area. The two species are deadly rivals and so it should deal with the overpopulation."

"But why is the Monetary Policy Committee doing that?" Zam asked. He genuinely didn't know the answer.

"With all of our money and power we are asked to do many things that don't involve interest rates," Duncan replied cryptically. He seemed to be catching on to Zam; he was eyeing him with much more suspicion than before. "We just try and do what we're asked to by people in need. We do our best to help this great region to prosper."

"And spending four years destroying Johto's economy for personal gain was the best way to do that?" Zam grinned as Duncan's eyes widened. It had probably been a long, long time since somebody had talked to him this way.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, yeah, the usual bollocks," Zam rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm a genius and I could tell years ago that something wasn't quite right with this committee. It's just basic economics at the end of the day. The region needed inflation which is caused by an increase in aggregate demand which can be caused by lowering interest rates to discourage saving and encourage spending. And yet for four years, interest rates went up and up and up with no sign of stopping. When I was younger, I wondered why the MPC would do that and then I met you."

"What about me?"

"To be specific, your motive," Zam grinned. "Why would anyone want such ridiculously high interest rates? So they could put all of their money in a super high interest account and it's like creating money. You could literally set how much money you could make and you abused that power. Not many people in this region were spared because of your selfish, greedy actions. I knew from the moment we met that that was the kind of man you were."

"I take it you won't be joining the committee then?" Duncan asked after a long pause in which he had only let out a long, exasperated sigh.

"No, I won't," Zam replied. "And I think that after seeing what dodgy things you lot are up to here, I'm going to have to cancel my business arrangements with Lord Salt. Tell him he'll receive his money back in full. Goodbye Duncan Jones." He turned and walked away, not even bothering to hear Duncan's response. When he was in the lift, Zam whipped out his phone and dialled a number.

"Zam?"

"Taylor, it's me—"

"You utter cock!" she yelled into the phone. "Where the bloody hell have you been? Why the bloody hell did you not tell me what was going on? I was worried sick! I thought you were in danger! I thought—"

"Taylor, calm down!" Zam urged. He certainly hadn't expected this response! He thought she would've been happy to speak to him again. "I've been doing some work for a case and I needed some money—"

"So you went on The Apprentice—I know," she finished for him. "One phone call before you left. That's all it would've taken. Just to let me know what the bloody hell was going on instead of running away like some stupid little—"

"I'm sorry ok?" Zam said, "I should've got in touch but before I realised, it was too late. The producers didn't allow me to speak to you. Listen, it was an honest mistake, I was working on a plan and I got a bit too wrapped up in it."

"Well it better be good."

"It is!" Zam insisted. "I needed to investigate this poker player called Melvin Jones who also works for this branch of government called the MPC. I got the money I needed and infiltrated the MPC via Lord Salt, got all I could from the MPC and now I need to actually take on this Melvin Jones at a high stakes poker game to see if he's a cheat."

"Very clever," Taylor said, although Zam found this comment strange given how angry she seemed.

"Look, Taylor I'm really sorry," Zam said, trying his best to sound apologetic. "I know you're angry but I need you for this. I'm due to play this Melvin guy tonight and you know I'll need support. Meet me at Goldenrod Station as soon as possible, ok?"

"Fine," she said, still not sounding happy in the slightest and hung up. Now Zam had an even bigger problem on his hands; he had a furious Taylor to deal with. He'd take potentially losing all of his money and ending up in prison for life over her rage any day of the week. Still, an impressive showing tonight was sure to get her to lighten up and if not... well, Zam had a very long night ahead of him.