Deep in the bowels of M15's headquarters in London the Liaison Officers Sorting, Evaluation and Research Section; better known to many of the less erudite members of the Service as the LOSERS department was running at full steam.

Dirk Maine, Senior Analyst was pounding away at his keyboard. Killerman a recent transferee from SO6 Scotland Yard sat well back in his seat, polished brogues set high upon his desk, thumbing through the pages of the illustrated version of The Snipers Annual Review. Their Chief, Section Officer Pawser Bingham was intently fettling his forelocks.

Pawser carefully laid the accoutrements of his dressage on the table and allowed himself a few moments to admire his luxuriant bouffant. It shone like a March hares coat in the moonlight. Satisfied with the effect he critically ran his hand over his well rounded mandible and mused to his team of highly trained professionals. 'So...do you think I should grow a beard?'

'No one likes a beardy Pawser,' remarked Dirk flatly.

Pawser flapped his fingers under his chin and experimentally moulded them into various follicle fantasies. Dirk was right of course, beards and naturally specs were intellectually suspect within MI5.

'Probably come out all grey and black,' drawled Killerman licking his fingertips and turning a page, 'you'd wander around looking like you had a rampant geriatric badger clinging to your face.'

'I'll ignore that blatantly ageist remark Killerman.' Pawser adjusted his mirror,' How about a goatee?'

'Too Welsh.'

'Something dashing then like those Spanish Conquistadors used to wear.'

'Too fascist.'

'You're right, if I grew one it might look aspirational and that's a dangerous thing at my time of life.' Pawser pulled a few more faces at his reflection before resignedly slipping the mirror into his jacket. 'I suppose I've got a few of Penny's cakes left .Would anyone like one?' Pawser pulled out a tin and passed it round.

'Ah Ha.' Dirk announced delightedly, taking the biscuit tin and leaning back in his chair as far as the wall allowed, casually stretched out his hands and placed them behind his head.

'I take it from your triumphant tone that after two solid days of work you have finally discovered Dark Matter, that elusive source of life, the Universe and everything.' remarked Pawser carefully adding yesterday's tea dregs to the Bizzy Lizzy that stood on his window ledge .

'Fortuitously for those excellent men at the large Haldron Collider the Higgs Bozen particle still looks unlikely to be discovered in the bowels of Thames House despite the magnificence of the array of scientific equipment we are provided with.' Dirk gave his aging computer terminal a derisory slap. 'Here look at this.' Dirk tossed Pawser a buff covered file.

Pawser briefly checked the numbering on the cover of the file which suggested it originated from Special Branch. 'Is this about money Dirk, with you it's always about money?'

'Money is the gravy of life Pawser. Where would we be without it?'

'Working here apparently.' Pawser reflected sourly. 'This letter is from the fraud section of the British Retail Association. The BRA are banging on to the Fraud Squad that their members are being targeted by an increasingly sophisticated gang of voucher fraudsters operating in south London and they are demanding to know what action Special Branch are taking.'

Pawser flipped through a few more pages of the file. 'Exhibit two, three and four, the evidence. Demonstrating a certain clinical efficiency the BRA has supplied Special Branch with heat sealed plastic sheets containing both forged vouchers and the genuine article.'

Pawser rifled a bit further through the file and carefully extracted a number of sheets and placed them on his desk. 'Here we have a dodgy £10 Argos voucher and its genuine counterpart. Nice job I must say they've even got the watermark down pat. And here...a M&S £50 voucher and its genuine opposite number. Good colour matching, probably would have fooled most of the oldies who work there. And...... finally the piece de resistance a £100 Harrods voucher and ....Ahhhhh.' Pawser held up a piece of plastic with a single voucher in it, the other having been expertly removed from the heat sealed plastic by the deft application of a craft knife. 'Dirk have you opened your Christmas Airfix kit early this year and got a little carried away with the Stanley knife?'

Dirk closed his eyes and said slowly, 'Read the file notes Pawser.'

'Of course. The file notes.' said Pawser referring to the inside cover of the file and running his finger down the script. 'Let's see. Looks like the letter was received by Special Branch some three weeks ago from the retail chappies.'

Pawser read the file notes.

Detective at Special Branch. Not much to go on here. Try MI5.

MI5 Case Officer. Unless spending £350 of hooky vouchers on a microwave has become a matter of National Security I can't see why this has come to us. Send back to Special Branch.

Special Branch. High end voucher fraud=Organised crime=Possible terrorist funding activities. Send back to MI5.

From 5. Poor recruitment standards at Special Branch=substandard staffing=wholly unjustifiable connections being made. Return to Special Branch.

Special Branch. Have you nicked that Harrods voucher?

From 5. I assumed it was you as it's the fake one that's been removed not the genuine one.

From Special Branch. You Dick.

From 5. I can't be arsed with this. Send it to those idiots downstairs and see what they can make of it.

Pawser laid down the file on his desk and looked up expectantly. 'And what have we idiots downstairs made of it?'