I screamed when I saw him. In the instant that it took me to recognise him I went through fear, shame, anger, disappointment and disillusion. Doubts became reality, and certainties grew uncertain. The game was at an end but, after all this time, I felt no triumph or satisfaction. I felt vaguely let-down, to be honest. The last two months had brought many changes, had seen highs and lows, had induced contradictory emotions within me, but they had always been exotic. Now, in a micro-second's revelation, they seemed mundane.

McCabe. It was McCabe.

But then I noticed a strange thing. There was no look of triumph on his face. On the contrary, if anything he looked more perplexed than me. There was a stunned-rabbit look to his eyes, his hand still resting in mid-air in the act of switching off the TV. This wasn't the usual Geoff McCabe, the huge, blubbery, swaggering tyrant of the office, a man supremely in charge of his life and business. Seconds passed, and we exchanged increasingly confused glances.

There was no question. Geoff McCabe was even more surprised than I was by what was happening. Whatever he was doing here, he wasn't str8guy.

"Well," he said. "Molly. That's very clever. Very clever indeed. I never suspected." He rolled off the bed and sat up, pouring a couple of glasses of wine from a bottle chilling on the sideboard. He handed me one and nodded, his eyes bold, boring into me. "Well done, indeed. You played a blinder. Hoodwinked the hoodwinker. Bullshitted the bullshitter. I'm proud of you. And disappointed, obviously. I thought you were one of mine, Molly. My kind."

"Geoff, as usual I haven't the faintest fucking idea what you're talking about."

He laughed sardonically. "Really? Just happened to be passing, did you?"

"No, I was sent. By..." I stopped. This was too complicated to explain and I was flummoxed, unable to think logically.

"Yes, tell me. Sent by whom, Molly? Who are you working for? Who's been feeding the weasel, all the time I thought I was nurturing the ferret?"

"Huh? Jesus, Geoff, these animal metaphors of yours are getting impossible." I'd drained my glass already, without noticing it had touched my lips. I helped myself to a refill and stood before him. "Listen mate, I haven't a clue what's going on here. Honestly."

He stared at me, and I could see the calculations going on his head. "The trouble is, Molly, I've trained you so well I can't tell when you're bullshitting any more. You look like you're telling the truth, but I've seen you do that to clients so often I won't let myself fall for it."

"But that's work, Geoff. This is real life."

"There's a difference?"

"'Course there is."

"'Course there isn't. Remember the stories I've told you. How I got Miles Chase on board. Shafted him and got his money for the business. Stuff like that. That was real life. But it was work, too. Same thing. It's all connected. I thought you understood that. You live to work."

"Well, I bloody don't."

"You bloody do."

"I bloody don't."

We shouted ourselves into a pantomimic dead end and each supped our drinks while we thought of a different tack.

"So tell me," I said. "You say you never suspected. Suspected what?"

"And you tell me, who sent you?"

"str8guy."

"str8guy? Who the fuck's str8guy?"

"Hah!" I snorted so loudly some of my wine shot down my nose and I dissolved into a coughing fit for some moments. "Who's str8guy? You don't know how funny that is, mate. I've been trying to figure that one out for two fucking months."

I stopped dead. Realisation finally dawned on me. I'd already narrowed my suspects down to two candidates: if it wasn't McCabe, that meant it had to be Rod.

Rod was str8guy. Fucking Rod, witless wonder and joker extraordinaire. Well, this was his biggest joke of all. I stared at McCabe, thunderstruck. He was staring back, his expression equally intent.

His mouth opened, a distinctly ugly sight which made him look like a land-locked carp. "So that's what it was all for. It makes sense now." He poured himself another drink and refilled mine. At this rate I'd be paralytic before I figured it out. "Molly, you poor girl. I'm so sorry. They've been using you. Using you to get me."

"What?"

"They've been blackmailing you."

"I know." I paused. "Hold on, how do you know that?"

"Come off it, Molly. How could I not know? What have you been doing for the last two months?"

I stared at him, dumbstruck. "How do you know?" I repeated.

"Look, when somebody starts accessing porn chatrooms on the company network, it tends to get noticed. And when they start installing bloody webcams under their desks it sticks out like a sore thumb. IT notified me of what you were doing in early April. I've been wondering what the hell it was all about. At first, I just thought you were just oversexed. George Cross from Clowes Manor certainly thought so... He's completely terrified of you, by the way. Wants you to continue on the project, but never to go down to the school again."

My body froze with fear and humiliation. All this time, McCabe had known what was going on. He'd known what I was doing. God almighty! Had he been watching? Had he seen what I was doing? I looked away, too ashamed to face him, aware of the crimson heat on my cheeks.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Why should I? You're my best worker, Molly. Whatever kinky stuff you get involved in, it's none of my business. And even if you were spending half the day in chatrooms, you were still getting the work done. ESF, Sure Start, all going smoothly."

"But I was being blackmailed!"

"I didn't know that. I've only just realised it."

"That's not true is it? You tried to tell me about it the other day, didn't you?" I started to feel angry as I recalled the strange conversation from last Tuesday, when he warned me about the smoke and mirrors and fire. It made sense now. Typical McCabe: so opaque you have no idea what he means.

"I suspected something - but I didn't know what. I wanted to warn you, make you think about things. I figured if I was vague enough you'd work out what I meant."

"Geoff, you're always vague. Don't you know that?" He shook his head solemnly and despite the tension I laughed. "So what is happening, then? What's this all about?"

He suddenly looked serious, and I saw a side of Geoff McCabe I don't think I'd seen before: still serious, intent on business, but with a wariness in the eyes which suggested, for the first time, an element of compassion. "I don't think you're going to like this, Molly."

"You don't say! Like I've been the Happiness Fairy for the last two months..."

"Hmm, perhaps. The thing is, Molly, they've been using you. To get me."

"To get you?"

"Yes."

I was beginning to feel light-headed, the speed with which we were draining the wine leaving me reeling. I couldn't think straight. I shook my head.

"Tell me."

"Okay. This is all about blackmail. But not blackmail of you."

"You're wrong there, let me assure you."

"No, I'm sorry Molly. A skunk lays it scent to attract its mate, but everyone has to suffer the smell. You got caught in their plans to get me." I shook my head again, his metaphor sailing several miles above my level of comprehension. "Yes, they blackmailed you. But only so they could blackmail me. They just used you."

I rose to my feet in outrage, as the implications of McCabe's words filtered their way through my drink-addled mind and settled in my heart. I felt my world collapse, any certainties I had known cast asunder. Throughout the last two months I had endured god knows what indignity, I had allowed myself to submit to the will of an unknown blackmailer, I had silently endured humiliation and shame and embarrassment. But, all the time, at least I had been comforted that I was the object of the attention; that my blackmailer was doing all of this because he was interested in me. Now, McCabe was telling me I was just the bait, a pathetic worm str8guy was working onto his line so he could catch the real target.

And now, for the final and definitive time, I can say that this was the most humiliating moment of my entire life. Nothing will ever be worse than what McCabe had just told me.

"I'm sorry," he said. "This must be hard."

"I'm not so fucking clever now, am I? Not your blue-eyed girl any more, am I? I'm just a stupid bitch who gets herself blackmailed so they can blackmail someone else more important."

"Don't start feeling sorry for yourself."

Of course, he was right, but the stupid bastard should have known not to say something so insensitive at a moment like that. I struck out and hit his shoulder, screaming at him. "Don't fucking patronise me! I've had enough of that to last a lifetime." I started to cry and immediately hated myself for it. Pulling myself upright, I emptied my glass again and held it out for him to refill. He drained the bottle, shaking the last few drops into my glass.

"Okay," I said, breathing deeply. "So tell me. Blackmail. You. How. Why?"

He slumped onto the bed and rested his glass on his gut. "How? Well, I don't understand exactly how you came to be here tonight, but I was expecting an escort agency lady." He paused. "A tart, by any other name. A hooker."

"Yeah," I said. "I get the picture. So?"

"So, I'm married. Bad news. Bad publicity. Nasty stuff. Best avoided. Blackmail territory, wouldn't you think?"

"Come off it. A middle-aged businessman having a bit on the side with an escort lady. Hardly News of the World stuff, is it? I know you, Geoff. You'd just tell them to fuck off."

He smiled ruefully. "Exactly. That's where you come in."

"Me? How?"

"As you say, if some tart starts blabbing her mouth about being tupped by Geoff McCabe, I'm not going to start cacking my pants about it, am I? Her word against mine. Lots of friends who'll give me alibis if I need them. It's a hard world, Molly. It's dog eat dog, and I've got huge choppers when I need them.

"But.

"If Molly Hadley, future partner in Chase McCabe, the woman being groomed for stardom, starts shouting from the rooftops about Geoff McCabe's infidelities, then that's a different kettle of dog food. Not even this cunning old dog could eat that one."

"Geoff, you're talking bollocks again. Cut the metaphors."

"Okay. You're too high-profile, Molly. Too important. When you start accusing me, people are going to take notice."

"But I won't accuse you."

"You will, Molly."

"I won't."

"Why are you here?"

I stopped dead. He was right. I'd been manoeuvred into a corner. It was him or me. One of us would have our sordid private lives brought into the public domain. Either I would shop McCabe, or str8guy would go public with me. Molly the high-class hooker. McCabe watched as realisation dawned on me.

"I won't blame you, Molly. I don't know what they've got on you, but it must be good. Lots of pictures, I expect, from the webcam." I nodded. "And this won't be the first time you've done escort work?" I didn't respond, but the expression on my face confirmed it anyway. "Oh, Molly, I'm sorry."

I shook my head and walked round the room impatiently. "No!" I yelled. "They're not going to get away with it."

"They will, Molly. You know it as well as I do. You have to go along with what they want, or they'll expose you."

"Let them!"

"Don't be silly. Whatever you do, don't fuck up your career. You've got to think of number one, Molly. You know I would."

The silly old sod. His very words contradicted him. Here he was, thinking of me when he could have been trying to find a way of saving himself. I stared at him. His eyes were hard, calculating, and yet I thought I could detect some affection in them. He talked about me being his blue-eyed girl, his star worker, but I'd always seen it as office talk, the boss encouraging his staff. I expected he talked to the others the same way. Now, I wasn't sure.

I only realised then how fond I'd grown of McCabe in the past few months. Our regular jousts with the English language had been growing increasingly bizarre, and I began to wonder whether, subconsciously, there was an element of teasing in it, flirting in a very business-like way. I hated the idea that I was going to betray McCabe. I hated the idea that he was going to lose. That we were going to lose.

"Who's doing it?" I asked.

"I don't know. The list of people who'd like to shaft me is probably endless."

"Well I know."

"Really? Who?" McCabe was surprised, but immediately showed interest.

"Rod."

"Rod? Rod who?"

"Rod Eaves."

"Rod Eaves? Don't be fucking stupid. The man's a halfwit. He couldn't organise shite to come out of his arse if it wasn't for gravity." He chuckled and sipped his wine. "Jesus, I'd rip my throat out with my bare hands if I thought I could be shafted by that moron."

"It is," I insisted. I explained how I'd worked my way through the list of suspects and eliminated them all until I was left with only Rod and him. "If it's not you who's been blackmailing me, it must be Rod."

"Molly, you may be clever, but sometimes you're thick as shit."

"Why?"

"Look, Rod's a numbskull. You know it, I know it. Why would I appoint him?" I shook my head. "And why I would I continued to employ him? Easy. He's my brother-in-law."

"I didn't know that."

"Nobody does. Nepotism is best kept secret, especially when the nep in question is as stupid as Rod."

"You're full of surprises Geoff. You could almost take that as evidence of a compassionate streak."

He shook his head solemenly. "Never, ever suggest to anyone that I've got a compassionate streak, Molly. It would ruin me. Now, that really would be something to blackmail me over."

I grinned. "Okay, so if it's not Rod, who is it? It's someone from the office, and I've eliminated everyone else."

"I don't know. But it's nobody in the office."

"It is. He told me."

"He lied then. There's only ever been two connections to the porn chatrooms from our computers. Just the two of you."

"Two of us?"

"You and Tess."

"Tess. What's she got to do with it?"

"That's the other PC that connects to the porn chatroom. They're blackmailing both of you, presumably." The world started swimming around me, floating into a vague, dizzying spiral. I was barely aware of Geoff as he continued to talk. "Haven't you spoken to her about it? I thought you must be going through it together."

Piece by piece, the whole, rotten episode began to make sense, and as the extent of my betrayal became clearer, my world began to collapse.