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That afternoon Gus took the Volkswagen for a spin around town, still ecstatic over Basil’s proposition. All feelings of unease and suspicious had been totally clouded over by this new feeling of thrill.

It was dark when Gus finally arrived home. Morde’s baton and torch were still in their places, signifying that Mordecai was most probably still at home. It suddenly occurred to Gus that he hadn’t seen him all day.

Gus switched on the living room ceiling light and froze with horror at what he saw before him.

“MORDECAI!” he screamed instantly.

In a few flips, Morde came bouncing down the stairs to stand beside his companion. He saw the limp and bloodied corpse of Basil, then turned to murmur weakly:

“It wasn’t me.”

--------------------------------------

But Gus didn't hear him. He was too shocked, the world went cloudy and he collapsed in a faint on the floor.

When Gus came to he was lying on his back on the floor. Morning light was streaming through the open window and Mordecai was straddling his chest, leaning forward with his mouth just inches from Gus'.

"Morde, what the hell are you doing?!!" yelled Gus weakly as he jumped up and sent Morde flying to the floor.

"Um...CPR... you passed out...and I like...panicked!" stammered Mordecai.

“Right" said Gus trying to avoid staring at Basil's corpse. Mordecai didn't seem very panicked to him. In fact he seemed very calm considering the situation. 'Stop it Gus!' he thought to himself, 'you can't think Morde would've done something like this...or could you?' He shook his head and wandered into the kitchen for a cup of tea to calm his nerves.

"Stop, think, react Gus," Mordecai lectured as Gus poured boiling water onto his hand. As he winced with pain, tears escaped from his eyes. Oh how could this be happening, he thought miserably.

"I better call the guys from the secret service," Mordecai decided. "I knew
something fishy was going on, when HE arrived." He gave the living room a bitter glare.

Gus felt himself tremble with anger. Cold, accusing, jealous Mordecai - Gus had never wanted to throttle his friend more than he did now.

He heard Mordecai put the receiver back in its place, and then return to where Gus was sitting.

"They don't want to talk to me... after you know. You better call them later. But for now, Gus, I think we should do some detective work of our own."

"Oh Morde, for the love of Mary..." Gus groaned as he stared the cup of tea he couldn't bring himself to drink. Basil liked to drink tea... "Morde, I don’t think I can right now-"

Morde wasn't listening. "So, you and Basil were 'old friends'. Where exactly was it you knew him from?"

"School," Gus muttered angrily.

"School?"

"Yeah, School. We were friends at school." Well... sort of, Gus thought as he dreamily reminisced.

"Tell me about it." Mordecai demanded.

Gus thought for a second. "Well, at school, Basil and I were very different people. Not the kinda kids you'd generally imagine to be hanging around one another, you know?"

Morde nodded thoughtfully, "but you did hang around, hey?"
"Yes, we did. A lot. Basil talked and I saved my lunch money just so I could buy him his favourite ice creams. And...and..."

Morde never found out what came next as Gus was overcome with emotion and began to sob heavily into the freshly laundered tablecloth.

Mordecai rolled his eyes. He was the last person in the world you would call for any emotional help, so he left Gus sobbing on the tablecloth and switched on the radio to catch a few overs of the cricket.

After about fifteen minutes, Gus wiped the tears from his eyes.

“We’re four for three hundred and six,” he murmured weakly. “That’s not bad.”

Mordecai grunted in agreement. He checked to see whether Gus was emotionally stable yet, then asked carefully “Would you like to call the secret service now?”

Gus nodded and Mordecai passed him the phone.

“Beep…Oh hi Sally… this is Gus. Is the boss busy right now? … uh huh… yeah… oh yeah, we were just listening to the cricket…Um, Mikey there’s been a bit of an incident at my place.” Gus fought to keep his voice level and continued to tell the head of the secret service about Basil’s murder. With a deep breath, he put the phone down.

“They’re coming over,” he told Mordecai. Standing up, he added in a serious voice: “I’m going to spend some time in the ‘calming down’ room. Don’t try to come and talk to me.”

An hour later, a black car pulled up in Gus’ driveway. A very short, round woman of middle age stepped out and checked a few things in her flamboyantly red handbag. Her name was Barbara Connolly, but the boys in blue just called her Auntie Barb. The secret agents however (or ex-agents such as Gus and Morde) knew her by a name much less affectionate.

Mordecai gasped as he stared out the window of the small flat. “Gus!” he cried out, ignoring Gus’ specific instruction not to talk to him, “Gus! They’ve sent Number One!”

Gus emerged quickly from the ‘calming down’ room to stand beside Mordecai at the window.

“Agent Number One,” he breathed in amazement. “Geez, Morde… they’re really taking this case seriously!”


Agent Number One made her way up the stairs and Gus greeted her as hospitably as he was able.

“Well if it isn’t little old Angus Doolan,” Barb cooed as she shook Gus’ hand enthusiastically. “Well, if memory serves, I’d say you used to make a mean apple pie!”

“Why, thank you.” Gus said politely. Barb lifted her gaze to meet Morde’s. Her expression darkened.

“Oh… it’s you. Agent – ahem – Ex Agent Number Forty-seven, Mordecai Rosenberg.”

“Barbara,” Morde replied just as coldly. “The body is in the living room. Wipe your feet before you enter.”

Barb turned back to Gus. “Be a dear, Gus, and put the kettle on. Let old Auntie Barb sort this fuss out.”


Barb lifted the sheet to reveal Basil’s corpse, still lying unmoved on the living room floor. Gus covered his eyes with his hands. Barb made a hmm sound.

“We’ll send this off to forensics, but I’d say he was killed by stab wounds to the back. At this point I’m ruling off suicide.”

Mordecai rolled his eyes. He gave Gus a sceptical look, but Gus only returned it with a glare.

“Mrs. Connolly, how serious has the service deemed this case?” Mordecai asked curtly. “Because I…”

Barb narrowed her eyes. “What was it again that they kicked you out for, Rosenberg?”

Mordecai’s face flushed a shade of red, and he stared at the ground mumbling something that sounded like anti-Semitism.

“Hmm…I heard something about a serious lack of competence in a potentially life or death situation…”

Mordecai lifted his head and stamped his foot in indignation. “I’ll have you know – although it is hardly your business – I was dismissed on the grounds of Poor. Mental. Condition!”

Mordecai’s face was red and his breathing was ragged. Barb stepped back a bit fearing Morde’s Poor Mental Condition was about to become a hazard.

“Well I suppose I better let you know then,” she continued, “that the service has deemed this case very serious. It just so happens, that this Basil Kemp, who dear Gus described to us and is supposedly lying dead at our feet… does not exist.”

Gus gasped. “But I knew him! We were at school together.”

Barb ignored him and continued with her exposition. “Before I came, we ran through the computers to see what we could find on him. Oh you know – technology these days is very advanced… anyway we couldn’t find a scrap of information. Birth, family, bank history, all that… but not a thing. It occurred to us, that we may have here one of the most elusive con men of our age. But then again, we can’t be sure, because the fact of the matter is we don’t know a thing about him. This murder has created quite some mystery and presented a few difficult questions. Certain aspects have suggested the involvement of an anti-government organisation so secret I couldn’t even tell you the name…”

“Why not?” Mordecai demanded.

“Because then it wouldn’t be a secret, would it Rosenberg? Although it is worth noting that we could be completely off course with this sort of thinking. May I please ask… where were you both at the time of the crime?”

Gus cleared his throat. “I was out driving the Volkswagen around town. Pete the ice-cream man can confirm that.”

Barb smiled at Gus, and then turned to Morde.

“I was here, in my hammock.”

Barb raised her eyebrows. “Oh really? You were in the building at the time, and you never heard anyone enter?”

“I may have been sleeping at the time.”
Barb looked sceptical. Gus was about to mention that it was normal for Mordecai to sleep at odd hours of the day, but the presence of Basil’s corpse had drained all desire to stick up for his friend. Instead with a distinct dose of venom in his voice, Gus spoke against him.

“He was probably sulking!”

“Sulking?”

“Yes, sulking. He was jealous of my friendship with Basil.”

Mordecai looked at Gus in horror. Barb looked pleased. “Well I’m going to send over some white-coats to have a look at this body. I better get back to HQ with this information. Good day to you boys.”

With that Barb made her way back to her car.


Mordecai watched the Number One agent drive off with a feeling of dread. She had a suspect now. A suspect with a clear motive, a piss-weak alibi, a professional knowledge of murder weapons, a violent background and a Poor. Mental. Condition.


Gus seated himself uncomfortably on the arm of the loveseat and watched his friend by the window in an awkward and painful silence.

“I’m sorry Morde,” he said softly. “It just kind of… slipped out.”

Morde didn’t answer.

They sat in silence for what Gus thought was far too long. “Would you like something for lunch?” he finally asked.

“You really don’t think it was me… do you?” Mordecai said suddenly. “Because it wasn’t.”

Gus thought about it logically. Morde often got himself into states of hysteria, but he surely wasn’t capable of killing someone. During his time in the service he had always been considered incorruptible, if not a little overacting. Deep down Gus knew that Mordecai would never turn from a crime-fighter to a criminal over something so petty.

“It’s okay Morde… I know it wasn’t you.”
Mordecai smiled very slightly and held out his hand for Gus to shake. “So you’ll help prove that, won’t you?” he asked hopefully.

Gus nodded. “But what can we do?”

Mordecai gave him an incredulous look. “Well the obvious, of course.” He stood up. “I’m going through his suitcase.”

Before Gus had the chance to offer his opinion on that proposition, Mordecai was already heading up the stairs to where Basil’s things had been left. Gus quickly followed.

"Morde! Don't you think this is a little disrespectful? And do you really want them to find your fingerprints all over his stuff?" Gus stammered from the doorway. "Morde! Mor...What the hell is that?"

Morde, having emptied the contents of the suitcase on the floor, had found a secret compartment hidden in the bottom.

"Bingo!" Morde mumbled under his breath. Gus moved from his position in the doorway to kneel near Morde on the floor.

"Shall you do the honours?"

Morde smirked at Gus and motioned for him to pull up the lid on the compartment.

Without meaning to, Gus held his breath as he reached for the small pull tab Morde had discovered. Gently, he pulled up the cover and gasped loudly at what he saw. He was only slightly surprised by the dozen or so different passports stacked in one corner, and hardly even glanced at the neatly piled $50 bills. What really had an impact on Gus was the photographs scattered around the very bottom of the compartment.

Photos on their own are rather unremarkable, however, discovering that your dead friend has months worth of surviellance photos of you (including some rather embarassing ones in the shower) can be a little hard to take, so for the second time since coming home into this drama Gus fainted backwards into a pile of Basils clothes.