Pawser folded up his map of Dartmoor, opened his flask and offered it around. From where they'd parked on the ridge they had a good view of Ferker-Rose's cottage. They just had to wait it out until the early hours and then they'd have a quick snoop around. Housebreaking really wasn't Pawser's thing. He felt like he was sitting in a dentist reception waiting for the first whine of the drill.

He needed a diversion. 'So Killerman, if your aunt was so rich why didn't you get the house when she snuffed it?'

'Good old Aunt Nonnie,' Killerman's voice came from the back of the car, 'richer than Croesus and madder than old Uncle George and Uncle Gilbert put together. She used to love fox hunting, absolutely loved it. When she was too old to ride she used to put a racoon hat on Horace and make him run round the herb garden while she sat on the veranda in her wheelchair taking pot shots at him with uncles 12 bore.'

'I'm not sure that would go down too well with the RSPCA these days.' said Pawser.

'RSPCA?' Killerman looked confused. 'Oh I see what you mean. No, Horace was the butler, remember? Good old Horace, a real stalwart he was, loved the family, been with them as long as.....' Killerman paused for a moment temporarily lost for words.

'Syphilis?' interjected Dirk.

Killerman stared hard at Dirk and after a moment continued, 'As long as I could remember was what I was going to say. Anyway, he used to come in on the right behind the privet hedge, break cover and scuttle over to the orangery , pause just long enough to let Nonnie get off two shots and then it was down to the orchard while she reloaded. There he would chuck out a few apples to draw her fire and then off down to the vine. He could put on a surprising turn of speed for his age you know. Then he would hunker down in the vine as Aunt would never shoot anything that has been in the family so long, Horace excepted of course. Then when he felt she was losing interest it was the last sprint down to the back gate and then he was safe.'

'And you were there when she did this?' Pawser interrupted.

'I lived with her from when I was seven. I used to reload the shotgun for her; she found it difficult at her age, arthritis. Anyway it couldn't go on of course, one day she clipped him. Masterful shot, got him just between the sage and the onions, must have been at least a hundred yards .They took Horace off to hospital and he came back six months later, lost a leg, gangrene. '

'Can't have been the same man after an experience like that I'd imagine.'

'No certainly not, I should think it halved his time from the apple trees to the gate. It was the crutch that slowed him down. Nonnie gave it all up shortly after. Said it wasn't sport any more. Mind you it worked out well for him in the end. When she died she left him the house, the estate and her art collection. I guess it was his reward for collecting half a pound of lead up his rear end. Horace threw me out of the house the ungrateful little git, seemed to think I'd encouraged her with the shooting thing. All I got was the shotgun and two Ming vases that stood either side of the fireplace in the drawing room. She couldn't stand them.'

'Too bad, too bad, Killerman.' Pawser stretched and closed his eyes. 'Well at least you got to keep the syphilis.'

Dirk checked the luminous hands on his Nautilus and shook Pawser's shoulder. 'Two am. The old bat must be hanging off the rafters by now.'

'Well that's it then. The lights have been out for four hours, she must be asleep. Let's nip down and have a look shall we? Dirk bring your wire cutters, we'll go in around the back.'

They trekked down the track to the house, keeping close to the laurel hedge for cover. On the edge of a clearing where they had a clear line of sight to the house, they waited until a solitary cloud drifted over the moon. Pawser's heart was pounding. He looked at Killerman and hissed. 'Killerman was it really necessary to black yourself up? With all that camo gear on you look like a terrified Louis Armstrong hiding in a six foot privet bush waiting for the Ku Klux Klan to turn up.'

'It's my Ranger's kit. I don't get a chance to use it often.'

'Ok, Ok, just to let you know if we get caught Dirk and I will disown you on the grounds of incredibly poor taste. Right, let's get this over with. Dirk, dogs?'

'I left some dosed meat within the fencing early on I saw them grab it earlier so shouldn't be a problem.' Dirks hushed voice responded though the gloom.

'Electric Fencing?'

'Disconnected. We'll get Killerman to touch it first just in case, he's very thick skinned.'

'Alarm system?'

'She's not using it, maybe due to the dogs.'

'Ok, balaclava's on. We'll stick to the plan, nip over the lawn and in through the French windows at the back. Keep your balaclavas on as the cameras are still on. Dirk you can turn them off once we are inside.'

'Check.'

'Let's go.' Said Pawser pulling on his leather gloves.

Lit by the single beam of Pawser's pencil torch they cut the wire fence, crawled through the hole and skirted the property. A low mist had descended leaving the open rear garden covered in a low rolling cloud of grey fog. They scuttled quickly across and stood, backs tight to the wall as Pawser forced the French windows. 'That's it, let's go.'

They eased their way into the room; Pawser pulled the doors gently to behind them and shone his narrow beam around the room. A small walnut bureau, topped with some pictures of Ferker-Rose and various notaries in them, an old phonogram, a leather settee...two bristling dogs standing in the doorway.

'Hello, gentlemen. Just popped by to watch an old lady get undressed have we?' The room flooded with light. 'I've just put the power back on. Failsafe you know.' Janet Ferker-Rose stood in her dressing gown with two of the largest hounds Pawser had ever seen. If Lord Baskerville had been there, he'd have been on the next train back to London, briefly stopping at Basingstoke to acquire a new set of undergarments and to cancel his appointment with Mr Holmes. Looking into their steely eyes, Pawser wondered if Ferker-Rose would let him borrow them. He knew a certain butcher he wanted to feed to them. He warily stepped back toward the French doors.

'You can make a run for it if you like, as you hit the electric fence the dogs will catch up with you, won't you boys. And then you can hang there with eleven hundred volts rippling through your torsos' and four hundred pounds of Rottweiler hanging off your arses until I turn the power off?'

As far as Pawser could ascertain scrolling through the various options tumbling mindlessly through his head, the legging it to the fence plan was beginning to look considerably less attractive.

'SIT,' snapped Ferker-Rose.

The two dogs sat. Pawser found himself sitting on the sofa with Killerman and Dirk sitting either side of him.

'I suppose Sir Berty sent you. So predicable!'

'And Haggard.' piped up Killerman. Pawser nudged him in the ribs.

'Of course, Haggard. How could I forget Horatio, how is he? Still pining after his missing appendage?

'I'm afraid so.' Pawser nodded mournfully.

Ferker-Rose patted the dog's heads. 'I've been watching you up on the ridge wondering when you'd get down here. Let me see, it's Bingham, Maine and Louis Armstrong. Isn't it?'

'It's Killerman.' Killerman volunteered.

'I wouldn't have known. With that kit on you should be in Panto.'

Pawser studied Ferker-Rose. 'You know who we are.'

'Of course I do ,Pawser. Of course I do. I knew you back in the day but you didn't know me as such. I have a good memory for these things you see. The louche Pawser Bingham they called you back then. It's in your file. I made it my business to know about everyone at MI5, I still do now. You're all on suspension aren't you? The ideal little team for Sir Berty to pick to come down here.'

'It appears we've been outmanoeuvred.' Pawser looked glumly at his shoes.

'Well I think you'd better tell me all about it don't you. Sit here and try not to annoy Berty and Horatio will you. They can be so irritable when they're woken up, especially when someone's been lobbing dodgy meat over the fence. They've been trained to bring it to me. They will not eat anything unless I've offered it to them.'

'I'm not sure you'll find us so accommodating.' said Pawser stiffly.

'I didn't expect so. Would you like some tea and scones?'

'That would be rather nice, thank you.'

Janet Ferker- Rose passed round the tea in little china cups, sat back on her winged chair between her two hell hounds and clipped back a little lock of greying hair that had fallen over her eyes. 'You know, the first time it occurred to me that things weren't right was when Lockwood came to see me some years ago. It was toward the end of my tenure at MI5 but some of what he told me rang a niggling little bell in the back of my head. He'd been retired for some time, he obviously had something on his mind and came to get it off his chest. He rambled on about his suspicions of a mole. But when I pressed him he become all confused. What mole? he said after a few moments and I realised my chance to get anything lucid out of him had gone. After he left I turned over our conversation to myself. It was just little things he'd said, nothing tangible but like him I felt certain uneasiness. I started to pull a few things together.'

'Lockwood's dead.' Dirk interjected.

'I know I attended his funeral yesterday.'

'Did you work out who the mole was?' Pawser bit into his cream scone.

'No, but after a while I had enough to leads me to believe something was going on.'

'And?'

'I took what I had to Icabalde Mayheme.'

'What did he do?' Dirk sat forward

'No one wanted to know and then all of a sudden I was retired. A political inconvenience, a Director of MI5 who suspects there's a mole in the services. More cake, Killerman?' She passed the plate around. 'Sitting here for the last few years I began to believe more and more there was a traitor in the service and whatever Lockwood believed held some truth. I went back to Mayheme and he still wasn't interested. So I've decided to publish my memoirs - and in them I lay out my suspicions. At least that might kick start an investigation.'

'Well from the way Haggard talked, Lockwood seemed completely surprised when Haggard confronted him about the allegations.' Pawser added.

'Well that's no surprise is it Pawser? Don't forget his lucidity was pretty shaky when I saw him. He'd probably forgotten about it and then Haggard bought it all back maybe the shock was enough to kill him.'

Pawser shrugged his shoulders. 'Anyway, he's gone now so that path is not open to us.'

'Not necessarily.' Ferker-rose put her cup down.

'How so?'

'At the funeral a mutual friend indicated he'd left the journals he kept when he was in the Service in the library at Thames House. I don't really approve of dairies being kept but in this case, Lockwood may have done us a favour.'

'Can't you just get them, maybe they hold some clues?'

'I'm sorry gentlemen, the libraries out of bounds for me now. And they are in the closed section. Access strictly limited.'

'I'll could talk to Lucy.'

'I don't think that would work, she knows nothing's allowed to leave there and you boys don't have the clearance. Even if you did, you're suspended right now. You'll just have to break in and get them for me.'

'What!' Pawser's scone almost reversed its decent down his gullet.

'For Queen and Country, Pawser. If you can lay your hands on those. I've got my records, then perhaps you can pull something together that might lead to the man we're after. Berty, Haggard!' Ferker-Rose tossed two biscuits into the air to be snapped up by the dogs.

'Or woman.' added Dirk pointedly.

'Unlikely as it may sound to you all. It's not Olga. She hates the Russians with a vengeance. It's a family thing, the war.'

'And your memoirs, can I take those?'

'Oh no, Pawser, you don't get sight of those. I know if they come out now then Mayheme will find a way of blocking them and dropping this investigation. No boys, nothing's changed until we find our mole. Show me Lockwood's journals and I'll show you the diaries. '

'What will we tell Haggard, Berty and Mayheme?'

'Tell them...tell them... ' Ferker-Rose went to the bureau and pulled out a letter. 'Here this is a letter from my Agent in America acknowledging receipt of the first draft. Say you broke in here and got this. The diaries are in the States.'

'Are they?'

'My Pawser, you are the inquisitive one. We might make a decent Section Officer out of you yet. Well,' she clapped her hands, 'It's late and I must be off to bed. And you have some diaries to acquire. Don't you?'

'We do.' said Pawser dolefully.

Ferker-Rose showed them to the front door. 'Oh boys, you can take those balaclava helmets off now. You're likely to get picked up for sheep rustling by the police as you go back through Exeter. And Pawser, don't be a stranger. Pop by any time. '

'You're in there,' muttered Dirk as they stomped up the gravel drive.

'Shut up Dirk, we've just got another problem to deal with now.'

***

Pawser left the car at the end of the drive so as not to wake Penny and picked his was up the edge of the field in the darkness. Letting himself into the house he shivered in the cold, he flicked on the kitchen light and checked the stove, it had gone out.

On the table, under a half empty bottle of wine was a note. Pawser picked it up and read it.

Pawser, I've decided to leave you. You can probably guess why, life with you used to be so exiting -now you are like a sponge with all the water squeezed out of you. Nothing interesting happens any longer. It's so sad , whatever happened to us? I've moved in with Nobby -he's so full of life and so funny. I'll arrange for the horses to be taken so don't worry about them. We'll sort out the details later.

I'm sorry it had to end like this.

Penny.

PS We made a spinach and sausage pie for you. It's in the fridge - we're thinking of selling it in the shop. Try and eat it, Nobby says you'll feel much better once you've had something to eat.

He opened the fridge pulled out the pie and dropped it into the rubbish bin. Kicking off his shoes, he put on his slippers, poured himself a brandy and went to sit in front of the TV. After an hour staring blankly at the screen, he plodded up the stairs and lay on the bed without undressing. He'd get the Aga going in the morning.