Pawser padded stealthily through the gap between the bookshelves. Typical Lucy he thought, knowing the location of the book and being able to quote the exact date of old Dearing's death. He never knew quite how she had ended up in the library. She'd joined Intelligence Gathering after coming out of Oxford top of her year, a double first in languages he recalled. Rumour had it that something had gone wrong on a job. Then one day she popped up in the library on light duties. When those people upstairs realised how good she was they ditched the mad bat Mrs Coaker and offered Lucy the job instead. At 28 she was the youngest Head Librarian MI5 had ever had. Exceptionally talented at her job and a looker into the bargain. Even Jocko had not opposed the appointment despite having his eye on the job for one of his own family members.

Pawser peered around the bookshelf. Neville Graydon whilst clearly enjoying the attention of Miss Dearing had not yet progressed to first base or whatever youngsters deemed to be first base these days. In fact looking at his fumbling's up the back of Jenny's jumper, as they stood locked in an inseparable embrace, it appeared that far from being at first base Neville was still aimlessly wondering around trying to ascertain where the field actually was. Anyway time was pressing. Now was clearly the moment for Pawser to hatch the plan he had conjured up in his stealthy approach to the courting couple.

He strode manfully up to the couple and bellowed in his best Scottish accent, 'Neville Graydon, what the heeel do're think you're dooin!' as close as he could to Neville's head. Which was not as close as he would have liked, Jenny having taken possession of most of it.

The effect was most gratifying. Neville pushed Jenny away so forcefully she almost fell backward over a small ladder that had been left against the bookshelf. Then he started standing to attention and saluting all in quick succession like a crazed version of Riverdance. Jenny pulled down her jumper and watched this spectacle, month wide open, oblivious to the red mist of embarrassment that was running up her neck on to her face. Neville's routine slowed like a clockwork toy winding down before he stopped and looking visibly drained said weakly, 'Oh. Mr Bingham. I thought it was Mr McBride.'

'And well it might have been, Mr Graydon and if it had you would now be being escorted from the premises by one of Mr Bentley's security staff to be cast into the street like the wretched individual you are. And there you'd join the ranks of the great unwashed, probably have to go and work in the city as a Broker, earn copious sums of Wonga, marry Jenny here and live a wholesome life of happiness surrounded by oodles of little Graydons. Think Graydon! Think what you would have thrown away.'

Neville looked perplexed by this unhappy conundrum.

Taking advantage of Neville's temporary stupor, Pawser turned to Jenny whose complexion had turned from a light crimson to a ruddy pink, 'And you Miss Dearing, what on earth were you thinking smoozing with this lad while wearing an article of clothing that no man has ever managed to successfully release with any decorum of self-respect. What were you thinking?' At this point Pawser began to run out of steam so rashly added, 'And with your father so recently passed away.'

Jenny's expression moved very quickly from one of embarrassment to disbelief to shock. Tears began to well up in her eyes. 'When did it happen, earlier today, we haven't heard. No one has told me?' she wailed mournfully.

Shit! Pawser thought. Bloody Lucy!

Neville manfully moved up and put his arm around the sobbing Jenny's shoulders. Pawser stepped back into the aisle and looked back toward the podium to where Lucy was sitting watching with a gleeful smile across her face. She raised her hand to her mouth, feigned surprise, and then silently mouthed 'GULL -A- BLE.'

I'm going to bloody well kill her. Pawser thought.

He turned back to the now inconsolable Jenny. 'Miss Darling, sorry I mean Dearing. It's all been a dreadful mistake. Your father's alive and well. Just let this be a lesson to you both.' Acutely embarrassed Pawser beat a swift retreat past Entrapment and ducked in behind the next bookshelf.

Aisle I was a suitable refuge after this slight misunderstanding. Pawser closed his eyes and stood quietly for a while in the vain hope that this cunning plan would offer him a temporary cloak of invisibility whilst he listened to the snuffling through the bookshelves, presumably the sound of Jenny getting over her father's death and sudden resurrection. Neville was offering hushed words of sympathy and was no doubt calculating at this very moment how he could use this to his advantage and advance his amours on the poor thing. After a short while Pawser could hear them shuffle off. With a bang, the great door at the end of the room signalled their departure.

Feeling a little relieved, Pawser peered around the bookshelf to make sure the coast was clear before slinking down the aisle to scan the shelves for the file that contained the source of Hitler's long adjourn to South America. A file which needless to say he could not locate. Another one of Lucy's little jokes no doubt.

However the small leather bound photo album he was looking for was there. He picked it up, flicked through it until he found what he was after. Sitting down, he carefully placed the book on the table and with a sharp well timed cough ripped a page from the book.

'PAWSER!' Lucy had appeared from nowhere and was standing over him, nose flaring and eyes flashing furiously, looking a lot less angelic than a few minutes ago. The shock of hearing her voice made Pawser jump up, his chair clattering to the floor, he instinctively clutched the page to his chest.

Lucy strode forward and with one swift movement grabbed him by the crutch and pushed him back hard against the bookcase. Satisfied that she had him immobilised, she smiled sweetly at him, 'Pawser. How very naughty of you, despoiling Crown property. Naughty, naughty, naughty.' She waved a finger of her spare hand in his face.

'I was only going to borrow it Lucy. Honestly.' Pawser blustered. 'You're hurting me.'

'Borrow it? Really, Pawser, telling me a porker like that. Us being old friends and all. What would Jocko McBride say if I were to tell him that one of his senior intelligence officers had come down here to steal from my library? Tch, Tch.'

'I'm not that senior, Lucy. I'll put it back now. Please let's not bother Jocko with this. You couldn't relax your grip a little could you?' Pawser pleaded.

'There's no time to relax anything at the moment, Pawser. The genie is out of the bottle now and as you know I'm a stickler for protocol.' She ran free her hand casually over her head, then shook it so her radiant blonde hair flicked across his face like a thousand admonishing rats tails. Her hold remained firm. It was obviously Pawser's cue say something

'What is it you want Lucy?' He asked resignedly.

Lucy flashed him a slightly sinister smile then leaned forward. At first he thought she was going to kiss him on the cheek but she moved her mouth close to his ear. Pawser didn't move, she had his undivided attention in her hand.

'I'll tell you what I want Pawser.' She said gently, her breath warm on his cheek. Then she whispered into his ear.

'What? I can't do that!' exclaimed Pawser. His voice moved up a strangled octave. As he stared into her resolute ice blue eyes his heart sunk. Like a fool he had been trapped. Now he was going to get skinned.

Her grip tightened to ensure there could only be one response.

After a very short painful period of reflection, Pawser realised there was nothing he could do. He acquiesced.

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Well, we've got to that point where you and I must have a little frank discussion.

You've made it this far, so either your principles must be absolutely corrupt and you have no moral compass what-so-ever or you've read this chapter by mistake thinking it was the latest One Direction update you've been waiting for the last three day that's just about to hit 10m reads. It's not, but you could be forgiven for making that mistake.

If you are the former and you think there may be one other person out there with the same distinct lack of taste you have clearly displayed, please vote for this chapter and any other chapter you deign to read in the vague hope that both of us may assuage our guilt's of being the sole participants of this sorry tale, of which, sad to say, there is lots more to come (and believe me it does continue to descend from here on in). The reason I write is to encourage others and surely once most people have had sight of this they cannot fail to believe they could do better . Thank you so much :). Come on ...press that button gggggrrrrrrr