'In short, we need a ride,' Arthur said, sliding into a seat in front of the Major-General's desk. X chose to stay standing and began looking around the large office, at all the awards and ornaments. He hadn't seen doors lined with leather since he'd last been to the dentist.

'Transportation, eh?' Major-General Sir Thomas Arguthy Fort-William pondered Arthur's request, blowing tobacco smoke that filtered through his moustache. 'Well, the boys could rebuild your aviation device no problem.'

'We don't have the time, Major-General.' Arthur had long learned that his good friend and former tutor preferred hearing his rank instead of name. It was who he was. Only Mrs Fort-William could dare to call him Tom. 'We've got to get across to Africa.'

'Istanbul,' murmured X thoughtfully behind Arthur.

'What?' said Arthur, turning around. X was thoughtfully analysing a large map of the world in a golden frame.

'It says Constantinople here,' answered X. 'It should be Istanbul.'

Arthur ignored him and turned back to Fort-William, not before 'Burma?!' was yelped in scoffed surprise over his shoulder.

'Perhaps I could help?' inquired the sack at Arthur's side.

'What is the Devil's britches is that thing?' barked the Major-General.

'Oh erm, that's Father Sfretelanimousopocatepetl, a monk. We call him Sfret for short.'

'Really?' murmured the Major-General, wrinkling his moustache. 'And how did... er... you.and your sack... er... meet?'

'It's rather a long story.'

'Indulge me,' the Major-General grinned, trying to ignore X's proclamations.

'Siam!' exclaimed X from across the room. 'How old is this thing?'

Arthur ignored his partner and tryed to remain composed before his old drill sergeant.

'He's a monk.'

'Excommunicated!' shouted Sfret, slightly muffled through the Hessian weave.

'Excommunicated,' agreed Arthur.

'Fascinating.' the Major-General tugged on his pipe again.

'He's formerly of an order called the Cult of the Dying Pilchard. Ever heard of it?'

'Nope,' said the Major-General quickly.

'Arthur!' X called Arthur over to him by the map. 'Look at this!' he shouted, stabbing at some Polynesian islands.

'Excuse me one moment, Major-General,' Arthur said, standing up.

'What?' asked Arthur, coming over and peering down for a closer look.

X suddenly dropped his voice to a whisper. 'He knows something he's not saying. I can't put my finger on it but there's something not right about this.'

Arthur looked downcast, disappointed. X felt uneasy, but pressed on.

'Just look at this map. It's like someone's not seen a modern map and just drawn it from memory. The countries are all ancient. The boundaries are all wrong! Where are all the coastal regions? They've got the oceans completely the wrong shape, and who placed the Greenwich Meridian over Antarctica? It's just sloppy, and cartographers are always so... so... you know.'

'Meticulous,' nodded Arthur.

'Right,' nodded X, studying the map for further inconsistencies.

'I checked out the security station outside as we were brought in.' Arthur had that serious look on his face that spelt trouble. 'I counted at least 12 guards, probably more on the roof. They were all armed,' he said.

'We're snookered, then,' said X glumly.

'Looks like it, old chum.' confided Arthur. 'Tell the truth, I've been on edge ever since we were brought in here.'

'What about your mate General Sir whateverhisnameis,' said X, showing a disdain for the British hierarchical class system Arthur wasn't expecting. 'You think he —'

'Well, see now, that's just the thing. The Major I knew disappeared in 1983, leading an expedition in Afghanistan. I went to his memorial service. I knew the moment I heard that voice.'

X goggled.

'What's so deucedly fascinating about that wall?' called the Major-General from behind his desk.

Arthur and X turned graven-faced to reply.

Just then Sfret popped out of the sack, having successfully undone the stitching in the seams. He smiled first at Arthur and X, then turned to see who was behind him. He was stunned. 'Grand High Mage Wizard Zenokryptonvulcanisationfort-william! Division 3 of the 1st Order!' he cried out in horror.

'Wyrm!' You left the Order! You'll perish with the rest of them!'

The Major-General rose suddenly from behind his desk. He pressed a button on the intercom. 'Smythe, you can come in now — they already know too much.'

The door burst open. 'Freeze!' clichéd Smythe, aiming a pistol at the two Agents, who pressed themselves back against the wall.

'No!' X cried and reached out for ammunition, his hand closing around the thing closest to him. The delicate and precious wooden ship was hurled from a low shelf and struck Smythe across the hand.

The Major-General winced as his hobby splintered and smashed while Smythe cursed and rubbed his gun hand where he had been hit.

As X reloaded with a World War II submarine, the High Mage looked at Arthur with rage behind his eyes. 'Grab them!' he screamed.

Arthur came to his partner's aid, spinning a picture of Mrs Fort-William looking vaguely floral that struck a small dent in Smythe's forehead. X reloaded with a heavy bust of Winston Churchill...

Sfret finally released himself and stepped forward. Then the most incredible thing happened: a section of floor slid open in front of him and Sfret tipped forward and disappeared into it, then the hole resealed itself. The bust of Winston Churchill didn't lift up, but instead tipped forward on a lever and settled with a click 'What the —?' Arthur said. But then the map opened upward, scooping the two Agents inside in one revolution.

Fort-William snarled and grabbed at the edge of a full-length mirror on one wall — which opened like a door, revealing a series of stone steps descending down into darkness. He darted inside. The mirror closed behind him and the office was empty.

Arthur and X found themselves in a dark cavern. The air was damp like a cave.

'We're inside the Rock,' said Arthur. 'Look, someone's carved out some steps.'

Suddenly they heard footsteps hurriedly retreating into the distance, splashing through several puddles. 'That'll be Fort-William, after him!' Arthur charged down the steps. 'He's got Sfret! We need him!'

X trailed in his partner's wake.

Arthur dove over the rail of the stairs and hopped into the channel at the foot of the stairs. It stretched in both directions and was intermittently illuminated. A loud gunshot rang out and nearly succeeded in depriving Arthur of his right ear, leaving a small and appreciable crater in the stone. Arthur hit the deck behind some stacked crates.

Fort-William snapped open the back of his elephant gun and inserted another two cartridges. 'He is risen!' His bellow echoed down the carved corridor. 'The Cult will rule the world!'

Arthur pressed his back against the wood and patted his ear to test his hearing. X joined him.

'You'll not take me alive!" Fort-William snarled, and let loose another shot, blasting out a light and showering X and Arthur with fragmented bits of glass and loose rock. In the distance they heard an emergency door click closed.

Arthur finished counting to ten. 'After him!'

Arthur and X barrelled towards the door. They struck up either side of the frame.

'On three,' mouthed Arthur silently.

'One.'

'Two.'

'Thr—'

Someone opened the door. Arthur punched him for good measure.

'OW!'

Arthur blanched. 'Wag foo goo anb doo dat vor?' said the figure sitting in the shadows holding his mouth and nose.

'Who's that?' said X.

'Ids me,' said the figure gaining some measure of composure back as he stood up. 'It's me — Bert.'

'What do you want?' snapped Arthur.

'Listen. I'm here to help.'

'Help? How can we trust you?' said X.

'You stole my mustard,' said Bert accusatorily, looking at X.

'Yeah. Sorry 'bout that,' said X, scratching the back of his head as a displacement activity.

'I work for the Agency. I'm a field agent.'

Arthur and X shared a look of familiar pleasant nostalgia. 'Stockholm!' they said in unison.

'Everything's being going fine. I've been making reports as usual. Until last week; then everything just went crazy.'

'I received a communiqué from London telling me to expect you. It came from the UPS Man himself!'

'Guy's out of hospital?'

'Yeah, he told me to give you two these.'

Bert unclipped from his belt two secure satellite phones that looked like small walkie-talkies. 'You can use them to contact base. They said it was urgent. Your code-names are "Strawberries and Cream".'

'And base is?' Arthur asked, pocketing the phone.

'Wimbledon.'

'Got it.' Arthur gave it an experimental try-out. 'Wimbledon. Come in, over. This is Strawberries and Cream, do you copy, over.'

'That won't work,' Bert explained to Arthur, 'not inside here.' He patted the rock face.

'Oh yeah,' Arthur said, letting the radio languish at his side.

'So what about Fort-William — where did he come from?' X asked.

Arthur look grave. 'He should be dead.'

'He was posted here about a week or so ago, after the old chief died in a mysterious trawler accident,' Bert said, aching mystery in his voice.

'What happened?' Arthur asked.

'It landed on him.'

'Oh.'

'This new guy turns up out of nowhere, says he's a Major-General and said his received orders to take command. And since then everything's being going really weird around here. The locals have all been meeting in the town square at night, there's been a big bonfire, weird slogans. I can't even trust my lieutenant. More and more now I see the officers going along too. Everyone, including me, is tired and I've not heard squat from anyone until you guys turned up.'

'Yeah, I saw you on the hillside when we crashed,' said X, jogging a memory.

'Yeah, I was trying to reach you before Smythe did. He's become something of the right-hand man to the Major-General.'

'Anything else?' Arthur asked.

'I had to be discreet, you understand — but I did pick up one small clue. I overheard them discussing some sort of cult.'

'What cult?' Arthur asked, somewhat alarmed.

'The Cult of the Dying Pilchard.' Sounds ridiculous if you ask me, but —'

'No, no — it's good. We are the trail of some diamond thieves. They are trying to steal this diamond called the Turquoise Moon. We started off our investigation with the phrase "the dying pilchard bleeds under a turquoise moon". That's all we had. So perhaps this Cult has something to do with it,' Arthur mused. 'In any event, we need to get to Egypt pronto, 'cos that's where the diamond thieves were headed next.'

'I can get you down to the boat docks from here.' Bert suggested.

'We have to get after Fort-William!' said Arthur. 'He's got Sfret.'

'Actually, I've got Sfret,' said Bert. 'I used one of the booby traps the Major General had installed to grab him from the room while you had Smythe distracted — I'm sorry I had to leave you guys to fend for yourselves. I tried to get to you after Smythe first arrested you. After he was called back inside, I could see through the security station that you'd already found the switch to the hidden map door, so I grabbed Sfret and came down,' he said, looking at X.

'Oh. Yeah. The... hidden.' Arthur lowered his gaze at X as a school-teacher might at a misbehaving child '...map door. Yeah — we found it.'

'I'm taking Sfret back with me to the Agency for debriefing,' Bert said. He placed a set of engine keys in Arthur's palm. These will start the jet-boat moored in the dock. I filled her up with fuel this morning. You'll be able to get to Morocco from here. I imagine that's where the Major-General is headed. If you hurry, you won't be far behind.'

Arthur shook Bert's hand. 'Say hello to London for us.'

'You'd better get going.'

Arthur put the keys in his pocket and clipped the radio to his belt. Together he and X charged through a set of double doors and deep into the heart of the Rock of Gibraltar.

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