'Eh, boys,' Ari, stopped torturing a pair of plumb tomatoes and waved the phone handset across the café. 'Phone call. A laydee. Asking for you, Mester Bingham.'

Pawser took the receiver and nudged it between his shoulder and ear as he topped up his plate with some cold toast and sausages from the hot plate. 'Pawser speaking.'

'Fat Larry is reforming the band,' a voice hissed ,'and he wants you all in now.'

'I don't know what you're talking about, Olga, make sense will you?'

'You know the procedure Velvet Fox, this is an open line. Fat Larry is reforming the band.'

'That doesn't help me, Bismarck; I still don't know what you're on about.' Pawser picked up the brown sauce, tipped it upside down and shook it hard.

'I'm not helping you, Velvet Fox.'

'This is because of the thing in Sir Berty's office isn't it?' The top of the sauce popped off leaving a thick tide of brown gloop swimming over Pawser's plate. All he could hear was shallow breathing down the end of the phone. Olga's Germanic distain was going to kill him, and he knew resistance was futile. He gave a long low groan and called across the half empty café. 'Fat Larry's reforming the band and wants us all in.' An old roadie at the back dropped his paper and looked up expectantly. 'Not you, fella.' Pawser added curtly.

Dirk and Killerman grabbed their gear and hurried across. Dirk thrust Pawser's coat at him. 'It's Tuesday so Maximus's dog tag says he's Fat Larry today and he needs us over there right away, it's an emergency.'

'I thought Tuesday's was Genghis?'

'That's Thursday, Pawser.'

Pawser slid his plate back on the bar and pulled the phone closer to his ear. 'Can't fatty ask Haggis or the King of the Fairies to sort it out, we're just having breakfast?'

'Haggis isn't in yet and the King's still on leave. Anyway he says he wants you in just in case it pertains to the case you're on. Fatty, I mean Fat Larry is on his way in now and he's put in a call to Doctor Frankenstein. Velvet Fox, something terrible has happened to the Postman.'

'Stop taking in code, who's the postman?'

'The postman, you know. The man who delivers the post.'

'Christ, why didn't you say, you mean Barry, the postman.'

'Just get in here now, Pawser. I'll meet you at Admiralty entrance.'

Pawser dropped the phone on the counter and turned to Dirk and Killerman. 'Something's happened to Barry. We've got to get in quick, Berty's on his way and he's put out a call for Professor Leatherbottom. Let's get over there.'

***

A disdainful Olga refused to meet Pawser's eye as they arrived in reception. 'This way,' she said bluntly leading them quickly through the silent corridors to the mail room and pushing open the door. 'You've got five minutes, don't touch anything. Berty's strict instructions. He'll be here shortly with Leatherbottom.'

On the floor, in amongst of snowfall of regulation brown envelopes, lay a crumpled body. Half on its side, arm and leg raised as if in the process of climbing a wall, a short knife sticking out between his shoulders in the upper vertebra of the neck. A large bloodied stain had seeped across the floor and ebbed its way up again the base of the wooden counter.

'God, its Barry.' Murmured Pawser stepping sidewise into the room.

Barry's hair had ruffled up into a knotted ball of greasy seaweed but even in death his thick lips still held the serene upturned smile of a bottlenose dolphin. Just to be sure he was standing in the queue with the rest of the dead marine life waiting patiently for his entry to his celestial SeaWorld, Pawser checked his pulse. 'He's dead. Looking at him and the way the bloods congealed I would guess he's been here for a fair time. I wonder if this is connected to the supposed mole.'

Dirk edged around the sticky pool of blood. 'Barry was thick with Ron down in stores, I used to see them lurking in corners furtively popping each other's bubble-wrap. Perhaps they had a little contretemps and Ron did him with one of his letter openers.' Dirk pointed to the blade in Barry back. 'That is a letter opener isn't it?'

'I recognise that paperknife,' Pawser crouched down by Barry's body and inspected it closely. 'It's Jockos.'

'Perhaps Barry asked Jocko if he could borrow it and Jocko took offence.' Killerman interjected.

'Enough to stab him through the back?' mused Pawser, 'I know he had another target lined up for his paperknife. Mind you he won't get it back now so I'm feeling a bit better. It's all a bit odd, Barry was harmless enough really. Maybe he stumbled across something.'

'I didn't really know the guy to be honest.' Killerman had edged his way around to the small fridge on the counter and suddenly whipped opened the door as if expecting to find a masked ninja brandishing a celery stick crouched within. Seeing the fridge almost empty he picked up a milk carton, shook it, popped it open and took a large swig.

Pawser scanned the floor, charting the progress of the scattered envelopes back to their source, a large cupboard on the wall. 'Let's have a look round and see if there is anything else to go on.'

'Hold on what's this. Dirk picked up a folded piece of paper from the floor. It's a letter from Pandora to Barry. Dear Barry the tests are conclusive I'm afraid, you have syphilis. I can't believe you tried to make out you caught it off me. The only thing I've ever had is a small dose of botulism and I'm over that now. Its over Barry. I cannot abide your lies any longer, I never want to see you again.'

'Blimey!' Killerman took another large swig from the carton.

'Wait there's more, I've dropped two doses of the gonorrhoea virus into your milk, that'll teach you to try to take advantage of me you bastard.'

Killerman gulped like a strangled fish and sprayed the room liberally with a mouthful of milk. 'Jesus!'

'Only kidding, Killerman. Dirk waved the note in the air. I just can't abide people who abuse the facilities. The man's dead and here you are slopping down his milk without a care in the world.'

'Shit.' Killerman shook his soaked short and wiped the milk from his chin. 'I told you I hardly knew him.'

'Come on guys, have some respect,' Pawser motioned to Barry's body sprawled across the floor. 'Barry was our friend. He'd been here for years and was loved by all who he touched in his fleeting way as he delivered the mail.'

'He touched that girl in accounts, remember?' Dirk nodded solemnly.

'Well let's not get into that now. Perhaps touched doesn't capture it. Or loved, maybe more respected perhaps. Actually come to think of it he was a bit of a sanctimonious old git and I never really did trust him after that affair with the peaches. Let's just say Barry was, well part of the way of life here and we should show him some respect for that.'

'Yes, your right,' said Dirk. 'I'm sorry, Pawser.'

'Me too.' Killerman stared at the floor.

'Here you'd better see this,' Dirk handed Pawser the slip of paper.

Pawser quickly checked the script. The righteous perish, and no one ponders it in his heart; devout men are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil. 'This is Mr Bentley's writing. I'd recognise it anywhere.'

'I know, so with the knife that puts both Mr Bentley and Jocko at the scene.'

Killerman whistled, 'Jocko maybe, but the King of the Fairies I find hard to swallow.'

'Look, Berty will be here any moment. I think we've got enough to be going on with, we should go before anyone else comes in.' Dirk warily eyed the door.

'Perhaps just a minutes silence then, to show our respects,' said Pawser. 'Would either of you like to say anything?'

'Yes, I would.' said Dirk.

'That's very decent of you, Dirk.'

They formed a little circle around Barry's body and all bowed their heads. 'Lord,' started Dirk rather hesitantly, 'now that Barry has joined you up there in the great post room in the sky,' he paused if trying to regain his train of thought. 'Please give me the first shot at Pandora.'

'Ditto,' said Killerman without raising his head.

As they stood in silence Pawser tried to imagine Barry as he'd last seen him, at the Christmas party all dolphin smiles and floppy haircut, but somehow the image kept slipping away to be replaced by that of Pandora, her hair piled upon her head, little tendrils of gold falling down over her sculptured shoulders. Somehow Pandora seemed to have taken on an allure that Pawser had not felt before. He had a strong compulsion to see her again, to be there when she heard about Barry's death, to be there when she needed a shoulder to cry on.

The door swung open and for a moment Olga stood glaring at them. 'What the hell do you lot think you're doing, standing around looking like a bunch of waxwork dummies waiting to get melted down at Madame Tussards. '

'Do you mind Olga, we were just paying our last respects to Barry.'

'The hell you were. I bet you were all thinking how you could get into Pandora's knickers now that Barry's dead. I bet you all want to go down to tell her about Barry as you may get a shag out of it. You men, dummkopfs!'

'I say Olga, that's a bit strong.' Pawser sniffed.

Olga looked suspiciously at the milk on the wall, wiped it with a finger, sniffed it and slipped it on to her tongue 'What on earths all this milk doing all over the walls, it looks like a flatulent cow's exploded in here.'

'Killerman had an accident. Something disagreed with him,' chirped up Dirk.

Olga glared at Killerman and whispered angrily under her breath before turning to Pawser. 'Look, you could do Barry a big favour and find out who killed him, it might just be our mole. And remember that's why you're here. Here's Sir Berty and Professor Leatherbottom.'

Berty surveyed the room and wrung his hands like Lady Macbeth realising she'd left her washing out in the rain. 'My, my, my. Goodness me, What a ta-do.'

'I think that sums it up very saliently for us all, sir. May I take those sentiments down to his beloved one in Porton Down?'

'Porton Down?' Berty stepped cautiously away from Barry's body, 'you don't think?'

'A flesh eating disease signalling the beginning of the apocalypse. A worldwide epidemic of catastrophic proportions. That sort of thing?' Leatherbottom flapped his turtle wings in the air.

'Well, yes,' Sir Berty shuddered pulling his handkerchief from his pocket and covering his face.

Leatherbottom, momentarily dumbfound at Berty's gullibility raised his eyes in disbelief at the ceiling as if expecting to see a leering Beelzebub baring the red cheeks of his hairy bottom in delight at hearing his portent of doom. 'I don't think so sir, he does look a little peaky but then there is a six inch knife sticking out of his back.'

'As long as you're sure, Leatherbottom. Bingham, a woman down in Porton Down, you say? What was he doing with her?'

'I should think what most men do with their girlfriend's, sir. They were both into fish so god knows what they got up to, it probably involved covering each with batter and...'

'I don't need to know the details, Bingham. I'm a little concerned at the connection, MI5 and Porton Down. I was not aware of the relationship. With what's going on, perhaps we should have a chat with...what's her name?'

'Pandora, sir.' The mention of Pandora's name again set something off within Pawser, a little frisson of electricity shot through his body. Pawser suddenly realised he had a desperate urge to see her again. He hoped that it wasn't due to the sudden opening left by Barry's death. If it was, he was sure he could live with it. Barry wouldn't mind, he was dead after all. 'I'll go down with Killerman and have a word with her. Dirk can help Leatherbottom with the note; maybe he'll turn up something.'

'Hmm,' Berty flapped his handkerchief in the air as if he were surrendering to the idea, stepped back and edged toward the door. 'Yes, get down there. If anything's going on bring her back here and let me see her.'

Olga harrumphed loudly, crossed her arms and stormed from the room.

'Oh Dear. Olga, err, well,' Berty stood perplexed. 'Sort this out would you, Leatherbottom.' Then he ducked out of the door.

Leatherbottom pulled Barry's swivel chair out from under the desk and gently lowered himself on to it. For a moment he closed his eyes as if considering how best to make an exit. Then slowly he opened them and blinked in surprise as if seeing the room for the first time. 'Well, this is a right bollocks up isn't it? You sorted your soggy bottom out yet, Pawser?'