Janet Ferker-Rose was sitting in the foyer of the Dorchester drinking tea when Pawser arrived. She nudged up the leather couch and patted the space next to her. 'Hello Pawser, won't you join me.'

Pawser watched as she arranged the teacups and poured the tea. She passed him a cup and sat back. 'Before you say anything Pawser. I know. I got a call about twenty minutes ago. Air Sea Rescue have been called out but the weather's hampering the search. His secretary sounded most upset when I rang her.'

'Oh dear.' said Pawser.

'I see,' said Ferker-Rose with a look of regret. 'Was he?'

'Yes, I'm afraid so.'

'She seemed such a nice girl, but Icabalde? Well I can say I'm a little surprised, he always seemed so focused on his career. I didn't think he had time for dalliances. Most unfortunate.' She thoughtfully stirred her tea. 'Mayheme told me he was meeting you this morning about your future. Did you have time for a little chat about that?'

'I did.' Pawser wondered if Ferker-Rose knew about the Will.

'Good and what did you decide.'

'There are a few things I need to reflect on.'

'That's fine. Drink your tea, it's getting cold.'

'There are some things I still don't understand.'

'I'll help you out if I can, Pawser but I have one thing I need to know first. Did you push him?'

'No, why does everyone think I did. He slipped on the wet grass?'

'Sorry Pawser, doing what we do makes us all a little paranoid if you know what I mean. It's such a shame really.'

'You liked him?'

'No, not at all Pawser he was a politician, a master manipulator. They make our lives a misery. Always changing their minds, having to keep their dirty little secrets, it's all such hard work. No, its just I've picked up a new puppy and I was going to name him Icabalde but if he's out there in the Channel dodging container ships, I suppose that might look a bit disrespectful. Never mind, I'll think of something. Now what did you want to know?'

'Well your manuscript, who did it suggest was the mole? You must have pointed your finger at someone.'

'Oh Pawser, you're so gullible, just like the rest of them,' Ferker-Rose laughed. 'There never was a manuscript. No diaries, no agent in America. I never named anyone, it was just a ruse.'

'I don't understand.'

'I'd long suspected something was going on, the Foreign Office was telling me the French Intelligence Services always seemed to have the edge over us. Little things that they shouldn't have known but I couldn't work out if I was just seeing shadows. The PM wasn't interested, bloody Alexander whispering in his ear. So after I was retired I told Sir Berty I was writing my memoirs and claimed there was a mole. That did the job, it kick started the whole investigation. And the mole was finally trapped, as I had intended. You did a good job.'

'Skippy, well who'd have known eh?' Pawser stuffed some paper napkins down the sides of his wet shoes. 'Stewing away in the corner there for all those years. Olga, was she working with you?'

'Yes, from the beginning. She even put your name forward when you got suspended, it was difficult you get you chosen for the job. Miss Whippy did a fine job in getting their preferred candidate out of the way. Olga had already mentioned you to Sir Berty. I just needed to be in control, so with you and Olga on the case it was ideal.'

'Miss Whippy is one of yours?'

'Ours Pawser, she's on MI5's payroll. Can you imagine the problems we would have if she wasn't? We'd have every jumped up tart from here to Aldwich blackmailing our judges and junior ministers or selling tales of their tawdry little activities to the press. Better to fund someone to entertain them and be sure we have control of them.'

'But what about the package in the loo, the roll of photographs?'

'Olga put it there. We thought we needed to give you guys an early success to get the momentum going. It had nothing to do with the mole, we just popped them down there to pique everyone's interest.'

'Well, if she put it down there she could have got it out. I ruined a good pair of gloves.'

'For Queen and Country, Pawser.' smiled Ferker-Rose. 'You wanted to see Skippy before he went off didn't you? Don't worry you won't need your coat, he's a little closer than you may imagine. Come on.' She stood up and guided him to the lobby and called the lift.

'Why did you choose me to find the mole?' Pawser stepped in and watched Ferker-Rose press the button for the top floor.

'Berty and Icabalde had no intention of having a serious investigation into the mole, it was a political time bomb. They wanted you to sweep along and find nothing and report the same. Then everyone could go back to what they were doing before, Sir Berty dealing with the little intrigues in the office and Icabalde his wheeling and dealing at Number Ten.'

'But why me?'

'To be honest Pawser when I got Berty to settle on you to carry out the investigation I felt you had little chance of actually finding the mole but with a bit of support I thought all your lunging about would come to the moles attention and he would show his hand, either to misdirect you or cover his tracks. You were surprisingly effective in that respect. Skippy was panicked into making a number of mistakes and the meeting at the warehouse wrapped it all up.' She tapped lightly on the door of Suite 202.

'Hello chaps, I'm just going to watch a movie, do you want to join me?' Skippy lay sprawled across on a king sized bed in voluminous, white cotton dressing gown. He waved the magnum of Dom Pérignon at them and called out. 'Royston, can you bring a couple of flutes in for our guests. Tsk, tsk, tsk.'

'This is Royston,' Ferker–Rose said. 'I think you two may have met.'

Pawser studied Royston, 'Ari the Greek café owner or Alberto the Roman Baths proprietor?'

'Both, I think.' Royston had a slight public school twang in his accent. 'Nice to see you again, Mr Bingham.'

'I thought it would be a good idea to keep an eye on you boys, just to make sure you didn't come off the rails. I didn't want Maine flashing his bits around or Killerman shooting people. They really are most creative those two, if a little unconventional. Royston here, has long been running the café for us, it tends to be a bit of a hotspot for recruitment of our staff by foreign agencies. And the Roman Baths well let's not talk about what goes on there shall we? So Royston here helped out a little with the details didn't you, Royston?'

Royston nodded, in his real persona apparently he was not one given to words.

'The church mouse is peeping out from under the pulpit. ' remarked Pawser looking disdainfully at Skippy.

'What's that,' said Skippy. Rolling over on the bed and dropping a canapé into his cavernous jaws.

'He means you need to do up your dressing gown.' Said Ferker-Rose curtly, turning down Skippy's offer of glass of bubbly. 'Royston, could I have a cup of tea please?'

Royston cleared the discarded glasses and plates and disappeared into the kitchen. Royston looked like a man you didn't mess with, the black tight polo neck sweater he wore sculpted itself around his toned muscles. A bit like the man Pawser had left on the cliff.

'So Skippy,' said Ferker-Rose placing her handbag on the table. 'Are you still adamant that you gave nothing away to anyone but Serge?'

'Hold on I like this bit,' Skippy turned up the volume of the TV.

Janet Ferker-Rose patiently sipped her tea and studied Skippy over the top of her spectacles.

'Yes, you were saying?' Skippy rolled over and turned the volume down. 'Ah yes, like I've already said, I gave some information to Serge at the French Embassy but nothing much.'

'Like what and for how long have you been doing it?'

'Oh, not long, nothing really. Just tittle tattle of what was happening around the office. Who was going out with who? Who was in, who was out. It's nothing. Christ everyone's making such a big deal about this like I'm some sort of super mole. It was for the French, after all aren't they meant to be our allies. So what if they knew who was shagging who? You can't prove anything more than that and I'd like to get home now.' Skippy threw his glass petulantly on the floor.

Pawser looked up. Royston at the sound of raised voices had appeared silently at the door.

'Why were you down at the warehouse?' Pressed Ferker-Rose.

'Like I said before I saw the message in The Times and I went along to see what it was all about. I'd heard about the letters Jocko was getting so I thought I could get a few Brownie points. Skippy sat back and picked up a spare glass and waved it at Royston. 'And I didn't kill Barry or have anything to do with that woman at Porton Down.'

Ferker-Rose lent back in her chair. 'What if I told you that yesterday the French arrested Serge and charged him with being a double agent for the Russians?'

'What! 'Skippy sat bolt upright. 'Hold on I didn't know about that. No. No. No! You can't pin that on me.' Skippy leapt to his feet and looked wildly about him. Royston moved swiftly across the room and before Pawser knew it Skippy was back on the bed breathing heavily with Royston sitting next to him.'

'I didn't tell him anything.' winced Skippy, rubbing his chest.

'That funny because according to Serge he asked you a whole load of things and you got the answers for him.'

'He wouldn't say that.'

'He would if you and him were going to be exchanged to the Russians for two of our diplomats arrested yesterday by the Russians for spying.' Ferker-Rose stared unblinkingly at Skippy.

'But I can't go there they must know I wasn't spying for them. Why would they want me?'

'After so many years in MI5? Like you say, you know all about who did what, where, with whom. The list of intrigues is endless. Imagine the fun your going to have chatting it all over in a barrack room somewhere in Siberia.'

'You might want to take your socks to keep little mosey warm on those long winter nights.' Pawser winked.

'Just tell us what you know.' Ferker-Rose hardened. 'And maybe something more suitable can be organised.'

Skippy's eyes dulled, he emptied his glass and his head dropped. 'About twenty years, that's how long. It was just a tittle tattle. That's how it started with Serge, that's all he wanted. I thought, what did it matter he was French, we were all in it together.

'Why?'

'Because he liked me, we got on. He didn't treat me like an idiot.'

'What happened to Barry?'

'Over the years Serge pressed me for more and more. I just gave him what he needed, never any more. I really did try. But when I heard about Barry and Pandora and their side line flogging dodgy kit from Porton Down, it was a gift.

'How so?'

'It was my way out. One last job I agreed with Serge and that would be the end of it. I wrote to Barry saying I wanted something from him. If he didn't get it I'd let his dirty little secret out about Pandora and all that kit they'd been nicking. Of course he didn't know who I was. I told him to acquire some chemical agents from Porton Down. Serge told me what he wanted. Once I had it I'd have passed it to Serge and then he was supposed to leave me alone.'

'It doesn't work like that Skippy, you never get left alone. Whatever you ever stole from us, you give to Serge and he gives it to the Russians. They were not ever going to leave you alone.' Ferker-Rose sighed. 'What happened next?'

'That bastard Barry looked at the CCTV and worked out I'd bought in the Christmas cards that day. He called for me to go down and see me, the ballsy little git. We had a big argument and I let slip about Pandora and Porton Down and then he knew it was me, I could tell.'

'The Christmas cards were just a distraction?'

'Keep everyone busy,' said Serge. 'Keep those little office fracas's going. It will slow down any investigation, just add up to more distractions for Sir Berty to deal with.'

'And Barry?'

'I killed him with Jocko's knife. I'd nicked it and then forged the note from Bentley. I needed to shut Barry up. And slow Pawser up. If I could buy some time I knew Berty would give up and tell Pawser to write a report saying no mole existed.'

'You gave me up to the O'Reilly brothers!' Exclaimed Pawser.

'Sure Pawser, let the old dog have a little distraction or two. It might put him off the scent. When Sir Berty told me you were in on the hunt I guessed what was going on and gave you up to them. I hope they didn't upset you.'

'They thought I was Special Branch, in cahoots with Springer.'

'Did they? I didn't really get into the detail you know, just a little message to set them off down the path to finding you.'

'And Spring-heeled Jack. You put the note from him into my pocket.'

'Come on, Pawser he knew who you were anyway. He knows Ron, so he knows you did the job where you got all that cash. I just put you both in touch. How were the baths?'

'Hotter than hell, with Springer chasing Dirk and I around after our knackers.' Pawser shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the memory. 'And the Jocko blackmail?'

Skippy shook his head. 'God knows. That wasn't me. Mind you I'm glad the Scots' nerk got it in the neck. We can do without people like him in the Service.'

'Come on, Pawser. I've heard enough.' Ferker-Rose stood and brushed her skirt down. 'Let's go.'

'What about me?' Skippy called.

'We'll be moving you soon Skippy, don't worry.' Said Ferker-Rose as she pulled the door to.

Ferker-Rose steered Pawser down the corridor with one arm slipped through his. 'We'll be having some more conversations with Skippy now he's opened up.'

'What then?'

'Pawser, the Government is not in a position to admit we've had a mole in play at MI5 , so once Skippy has told us what he leaked, he will be given a new identity and flown off to a new life in Scotland where we have people who will keep an eye on him.'

'I don't believe it!'

'Well, that's it Pawser, the practicalities of British politics and it's perception of its Security Services means we have no choice. The public have to believe we know what we are doing. It's for the greater good. I can't say I don't want to chop off his little mouse and feed it to my dogs, but there we go. '

They walked together to the lift and took the short trip down to the ground floor in silence.' Have you had time to reflect, Pawser?'

'Mayheme said there's a problem with getting our jobs back... what happens if I go to the press or say, write a book of my experiences to keep me in funds. If I had my job back and so did the others, then I wouldn't need to. It's not as if I'm asking for much.'

'I see,' Ferker–Rose looked at Pawser from under her eyebrows, dipped into her bag and pulled out a package. 'Pawser before you go, I have something for you. I suggest we won't be meeting again.' She handed him the box. 'Call it a late Christmas present if you will. You will be prudent about what you know, won't you? Governments have fallen on less than this and we wouldn't want that, would we?'

'About our jobs....'

'Goodbye, Pawser.'

Sitting alone in his car in the hotel's underground car park, Pawser weighed the package in his hands. It was wrapped in reindeer paper with lots of dancing Santa's on it. Pawser tore it open. It contained a small florescent jacket, a single lock pick and a video tape with the word COPY written boldly in red down its side.

'Bugger,' said Pawser. He started his car, pulled up the ramp and into the London traffic.