'Dirk and Killerman are on their way,' said Pawser putting down the receiver. 'You know I'm missing that new Bond movie, it's out today.'

'Like that'll make a difference.' said Olga staring fixedly at his day glo jacket.

'I'll ignore that.'

Olga sighed, 'So we are left waiting for Killerman and Dirk to get here in time before the staff come in.'

'Yes I'm afraid so.'

'It's worse than I thought then, let's try and get some sleep then.'

Pawser stepped a bit closer to Olga and let the jacket slip casually to the ground, 'I was hoping.'

'In your dreams.' snapped Olga and strode into the little office slamming the door behind her.

Left in the dark Pawser pulled the jacket back on, curled into a ball on the lino floor behind the desk and drifted into a fitful sleep to be woken by a tapping on the glass door. Killerman and Maine were standing there. Dirk, was waving a black dustbin liner. Pawser jumped up and let them in.

'Nice jacket Pawser, couldn't afford the whole suit?'

'Up yours Dirk. Did you get our clothes from Berty's office?'

'We did. Maximus's office looked like I'd walked in late to Caligula's pre dinner drinks. Garments a-plenty spread all over the floor, glass table and hanging off Berty's chandelier was a pair of......'

'I get the picture Dirk, I was there remember? Just give us what you picked up. You did clear it all up, didn't you?'

'Sure did, even wiped the evidence off the glass. You dog, you. Where's Olga?' Grinned Dirk.

'In the back office.'

'Shall I nip in and debrief her for you?'

'Our clothes,' Pawser demanded, holding out his hand.

Dirk threw him the black sack. 'You're lucky I'm not the only one with one of these.' He held up a plastic access card. 'It's six am so hardly anyone's in, Killerman and I managed to dodge in and lift all your gear. Don't forget there's a debrief with Berty at nine am. We're off downstairs while no one's around. Give our love to Olga when you see her.'

'Just to let you know I don't approve old man.' Killerman scowled as he followed Dirk through to the stairs.

Pawser climbed into his trousers. 'Yeah, well thanks for that, Killerman.'

He opened the door a crack. Olga stood, hands across her chest, immobile, glaring at him. He figured she probably been standing like that all night. 'Here's your stuff, Olga. I'm going down to the office to pick up some of my gear, while it's quiet. See you up in Sir Berty's office later.'

Leaving just enough time for the deathly silence to curdle the air, Pawser exited from the back of the Admiralty quicker than a greased pig at a redneck barbeque. It appeared rather pointless to try to strike up a conversation with the brusque Bavarian now that his blotter had been well and truly blotted. While the building was fairly empty it seemed like a good opportunity to nip down and retrieve the few bits and bobs he'd left behind when he'd been so rudely ejected from the premises following his cursory interview with the old goat, Jocko McBride.

He flitted through the back of main reception and crept down the basement stairs, making sure the coast was clear of any itinerant staff foolish enough to be in at this unearthly hour. Walking swiftly along the corridor, he paused a few times to make sure no one was around. Reassured by the lack of noise he slipped into his office, gently pushing the door to behind him. Dropping into his chair he rummaged through his drawers for his wallet when a dull bang echoed through the room.

He froze. Tilting his head sideways he could make up a dull shuffling noise coming from the room next door. Rising stealthily from his seat he worked his way along the wall until the noise was loudest. It appeared to be emanating from behind his recently procured picture of Hitler and his cronies.

Pawser gently pulled the picture aside and was surprised to see that, behind it, where before Killerman's shot had taken out a large chunk of plaster, a large ragged oval hole had opened up in the wall. Seeing movement in the room next door Pawser carefully pushed his head into the hole. Unable to move due to the snugness of the jagged plaster around his head Pawser, swivelled his eyes around to take in this newly acquired vista.

Like a gargoyle atop a cathedral wall he was peering through the wall into the decrepit gentleman's toilet next door. This was the favoured sanctuary of Pawser or his team when they needed a quick fag to relieve the tensions of the day, and that was the only relief that was to be found there. Any unfortunate that might stumble on this sanctuary, would , most likely, look at the mould stained sink and cracked tiling, the odd shaped stains on the ceiling above the urinal and decided to hotfoot their way up to the ground floor and avail themselves of the more comfortable facilities there. It was quite likely that the last person that had used the facilities in anger had been there under the tutelage of Sir Digby Dashwood. As they'd exited the small cubicle to Pawser's right they'd pinned a little note on the door, 'I'd give it five,' and that had deterred potential entrants to trap one for the next ten years or so.

Looking down, Pawser could see the single discoloured urinal beneath him, scattered around the floor was the debris from the hole he now had his head in. Straining to look to the left he could see the source of the noise he'd heard.

The rotund figure of Sir Berty was standing just inside the doorway looking disconcertedly at the shabby door of the single cubicle.

'I'd use the one upstairs, sir. The last person who used this was the one that posted the, 'Give it five,' note, did it so long ago that whatever lurks in there now has probably taken on the form of a Japanese turd monster, ready to take vengeance on the first pair of lily white buttocks to inadvertently expose themselves to it. Sit on it and a proboscis the size of Belgium is likely to whip up your jacksi faster than you can say, 'what bastards nicked the last of the toilet paper?''

Sir Berty looked up, his eyes narrowing as his appraised the floating head on the wall. 'Actually Bingham, that happened to me not so long ago in the executive toilets upstairs. A most distressing experience.'

'The proboscis thing, sir?'

There was a long silence. Sir Berty's expression suggested he might be considering countering his impertinence by plucking both of Pawser's eyes out and dropping them down the bowl that marked the entrance to Hades, to float, watching for the rest of eternity for the emergence for the brown beast within. Having parked this thought in the back of his mind Sir Berty said slowly. 'I'm glad you're here Bingham, I've been wanting a word with you.'

'Do you want to pop round, sir - to the office?'

'It's this diet I'm on, Bingham. It seems to have upset my constitution, my bladder seems to need relieving with unconscionable regularity.' Berty approached the battered urinal and waved a bulging brown paper bag labelled, 'Chocco Doughnuts,' at Pawser. He appeared uncertain where to leave it while he relieved himself. Looking at Pawser, his forehead furrowed. 'You wouldn't mind, just while I, eh?' He motioned to the urinal and tapped Pawser under his jaw. Pawser, somewhat confused, opened his month allowing Berty to slip the handles of the bag into his month

'And close.' ordered Sir Berty.

Pawser clamped his teeth around the top of the bag.

Sir Berty stepped up and undid his fly.

Pawser looked at the ceiling.

'I just thought we could have a quick catch up while you were here.' Sir Berty's nose was almost touching Pawser's.

Pawser felt a considerable urge to withdraw his head but the bag of doughnuts made this an impossibility. His deliberations were curtly cut short by a dark look from Sir Berty. 'Don't drop those, Pawser. I've just had them taxied across from Covent Garden. There's a little place there called Fat Fannies, does some great food. You should try it. Did you find anything upstairs in Ferker-Rose's room?'

'Som Uto's.'

'Ah yes. I just bumped into Olga and she's shown me. Anything useful in them, do you think?' The splashing indicated Berty was in full flow.

'Maywe.' Pawser's eyes had begun to water.

'I've asked Olga to take them to Professor Leatherbottom. He'll run them through some tests and get them enhanced, that's his kettle of fish.'

'Un hun.'

'It seems this investigation is going to take a little longer than we'd hoped, the Deputy PM and I. If there is no mole or conclusive evidence of one, then let's report it as such, shall we and move on. Obviously a, 'No,' would mean we could close this unfortunate investigation and I could review your disciplinary and we could get it all sorted out. Tickety boo eh?' Sir Berty nodded his head encouragingly at Pawser.

'Ut ubt th hotos?'

'Yes, as you say, the photos. Well it seem to me Bingham that they don't actually tell us anything do they? A bunch of grimy shots of someone with Vosimov, doesn't mean we have a mole here.' Sir Berty looked suspiciously down into the urinal.

'Bu hot abt Herker Hose and hu wiries?'

'Ah yes, but her suspicions, in themselves, prove nothing. After all she was in charge back then and had her opportunity to unmask the supposed mole but never did. Ergo, there is no mole. And have you considered, Pawser what an allegation of a mole would do to her book sales, eh?'

'Unu, I hant.'

'I see. It strikes me you've not really got much evidence here. You've got forty eight hours and then I want it wrapped up with your report which better be, there is no mole, unless you can produce more than a roll of tired photos showing god knows what.'

'Fory ait hurs?'

'That's was I said Bingham, so do what you've been directed to do.' Sir Berty gave a little shake and relived Pawser of the bag

'Just one thing, sir?'

'If you were wondering why it's was purple, Bingham. It's because I'm on a beetroot diet.'

'I wasn't looking really, sir. No, what I was wondering about was the diaries. Do we really need to retrieve them?''

'Show a bit of backbone man! Of course we still need to see Ferker-Rose's diaries. Not that it will make much difference in the long run. Get down to her place in Dartmoor and turn it over. I'll talk to Haggard and Mayheme when they get here and let them know you're off to collect them.'

'Yes of course, sir.'

'Well, that's it then,' said Berty wiping his hands on his jacket. 'Report back to me tomorrow.'

'Yes, sir.'

Berty paused at the door.' And Bingham, don't let her catch you. That would be most inconvenient. You know what'll happen to you then?'

'The Portsmouth thing. Haggard told me.'

'Exactly!' Sir Berty shouted as the door swung to.' You don't want to end up in that shit hole do you?'

Pawser closed his eyes and struggled to slow his elevated pulse. This whole thing was becoming most challenging. The search of Ferker-Rose's office had given up little. Unless Professor Leatherbottom could find anything useful in his analysis of the photos his was now going to have to go to Dartmoor and search her house. After being almost caught in flagrante delicto germanicus with the Teutonic warrior, it was unlikely that Olga would be providing much further assistance. The whole affair was now becoming both over taxing and rather sordid into the bargain. He sighed, perhaps, after all, Portsmouth did have its attractions. He'd have to get used to the idea.

'Haggard here,' Dirk's voice came through the wall. 'I'm now going to be giving you a little something that will make your eyes water, Bingham.'