'Hail Pawsius. What news from the Eastern Front?' A husky voice echoed down the phone. Pawser checked his bedside clock. It was four am and his knee was killing him despite being over a week since his visit from the O'Reilly brothers.

'Get lost,' Pawser said and slammed the receiver down and rolled over to go back to sleep.

'Who was that?' Penny asked drowsily.

'Some drunken idiot from the pub I should think.' Probably your fat pie man ringing me up to wind me up after I've upset his equine boyfriend. This rather satisfying thought crossed Pawser's mind as he closed his eyes and slipped into a comfortable slumber.

The phone rang again.

'Hail Pawsius. What news from the Eastern Front?'

Pawser sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes, 'What!'

'It's Chairman Mao. Have you forgotten all your tradecraft Velvet Fox? Good God man! Has it been that long?' the voice hissed.' We'll try again shall we?'

The phone went dead.

Chairman Mao! Sir Berty! Pawser was dumbstruck. Why on earth would he be getting a call direct from the Head of MI5?

The phone trilled. Pawser picked it up on the first ring.

'Hail Pawsius. What news from the Eastern Front?'

'Hail Bertius Maximus,' Pawser struggled to recall the script, 'Hannibal's legions are vanquished. We return in triumph.'

'Meet me at the Greek amphitheatre on the Via Whitechapel. Bring your legions.'

'What bring Killer, Killer ...Killemananiuos and Mainaneius?' Bloody hell there had to be an easier way of doing this.

'Don't worry my Edict has already reached them. They'll be there. And tell no one. Rome has many enemies. 6.00am. Be prompt.' Chairman Mao instructed him.

'What of the Praetorian guard?' Pawser quizzed.

'They've failed us Pawsius. In our hour of need.'

'How so, Maxiumus?'

'Entranced by a great seductress. Tricked into opening an amphora of finest imported Greek oil,' the voice regretted.

'Ah, that news has reached us on the Front. We read it all about in the Timesus on the XX of December. Bad news for the Empire.'

'Look Pawsius, never mind all this Tommy trot. Just be there will you.'

'Yes Maximus.' Pawser replaced the handset.

He sat there and wondered. Could this to be to do with the shooting? It seemed unlikely. Sir Berty was a stickler for bureaucratic procedure so he'd be sure to let Jocko run with it to keep the whole thing at arm's length. Sir Berty certainly wouldn't want to get too close to the investigation. But if not the shooting, then what?

'What the hell was that was all about?' Penny sat up in bed and switched the light on. 'It sounded like you were auditioning for a bit part in Ben Hur.'

'Bloody hell, it was Sir Berty .Calling me! Thank God.'

'I don't see what the big deal is about Pawser. It's hardly like you don't work there,' Penny shrugged.

The phone rang.

'Chairman Mao here. I said tell no one and that includes your Matriarch. Do you understand? 'The phone went dead.

'Shit,' said Pawser putting down the receiver,' they've bugged the room.'

'Wouldn't worry,' said Penny turning over and switching the light off, 'There's not much to listen to here. Is there, Flatulus?'

There would be if you woke up with Satan's steeds head in the bed next to you, thought Pawser bitterly.

He was so eager he couldn't sleep. He lay there awake ruminating on what Sir Berty could possibly want with him and his team that would warrant a call in the middle of the night.

After a while he slipped out of bed and began to prepare for the meeting. In the spare room he took his best sports jacket from the wardrobe and black corduroys from the drawer. In the kitchen he rummaged around in the boot locker to pull out his slip on leather patent Chelsea boots. For the next twenty minutes he stood in his underpants trimming the frayed cuffs on his cotton shirt, brushing down his cords and conducting an emergency repair on one of the leather elbow patches on his jacket. Then he quickly dressed in front of the mirror in the hall.

Satisfied with the results, he grabbed his car keys and headed out of the back door into the darkness.