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As the food started to arrive, Trinity seemed to wind her prickly personal armour back a notch or two. I gently prompted her about Garrick's disappearance, which she told me at some length, between mouthfuls. Trinity has always had a raging appetite. Even when she was a child, she ate twice as much as her elder siblings, much to my Mother's despair at dinnertime. I guess, even now, her regime of high-stress work assignments and intense physical exercise meant that she still burned calories really fast, even compared with a big male like myself. "You'll know that much of my work comes through agents of one kind or another," Trinity explained between mouthfuls. I nodded. Her line of business was not the kind of thing that one would expect to find in the trade pages of the telephone directory. Unlike mine, where desperate housewives and frustrated businessmen seem more than willing to find some random stranger in the phone book to listen to their woes. "Garrick came to me through a personal recommendation," she went on. "Who recommended you to him?" I interjected. Trinity chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "It's not entirely unusual, but I don't remember asking him," she said slowly, "And I'm sure he never told me exactly who it was." She shook her head. "Anyway, Garrick called my office, wanted to engage my services. I called him back and agreed to an introductory meet. It was in a cafe at a shopping mall, nowhere special. He was a bit jumpy - but, then again, most of my clients are. He said he had been hiding out, afraid for his life, he said, although he didn't say who or what was threatening him." "Didn't you ask?" I pressed. "Frankly, no," she replied wearily, "My experience is that a panic-stricken client either doesn't know what he's facing, or thinks he does, but turns out to be just plain wrong. Anything a customer says in answer to that question is likely to be misleading at best, and a distraction at worst." "Did he say where he had been hiding out?" "Again, I didn't press, although I got the impression that he had been living in the Deeps." The Deeps are really off the beaten track, the Goblin equivalent of the back of beyond. The further down one goes, the warmer the caverns get, and more likely you are to encounter some of the more unusual creatures with whom we share our Realm. There are persistent rumours - even in this day and age - of unknown and sometimes violent denizens secreted in the side-tunnels and hidden ways although, personally, I suspect this is some combination of urban myth and wishful thinking. "Anyway," Trinity went on, "We agreed terms, and Garrick handed over a bankers draft as a deposit. Within the hour, I had arranged to transport him to a safe house, one of several my organisation manages. I got him installed, set up a standard roster from my staff; teams of two changing three times a day, usual stuff." She paused again to wipe clean her plate with the last piece of toadstool bread. "And then?" I prompted. "I took to calling on the Professor every two or three days..." "To conduct that mysterious business you're not tell me about," I added. Trinity looked peeved. One of David's waiters chose that moment to hurry over and take away our empty plates. "Including a little business on the side," she agreed acidly, once the waiter had disappeared, "So, there were no real incidents, just a couple of false alarms which were understandable enough, I suppose. Further instalments of his fees turned up in my bank account with monotonous regularity. From my point of view, he was the dream client." Trinity fell silent. I sipped the last of my beer and waited as patiently as I could manage. "Two days ago," she resumed eventually, "I visited the safe house as usual. Garrick was there, looking relaxed. After the pleasantries, I broached the subject of our business" - she frowned - "Garrick nodded amiably enough, then explained he needed to step into his bedroom for a moment. He was still dressed in his pyjamas. I waited and waited, getting increasingly agitated. There was no answer to knocks or shouts. The door was locked from the inside, and took all three of us to break it down." "Not there?" I said softly. "Garrick wasn't there," she agreed simply, "It was an old-fashioned Goblin bedroom, all heavy masonry and hewn stone. No windows. No furniture other than the bed itself, and a couple of small cabinets. The kind of place designed to make you feel safe and secure. There were no hidden tunnels or secret exits we could find. I used up a fortune in Reveal spells and detection glamours. That's another thing he owes me for," she added sourly. Trinity sat back in her chair, looking at me levelly over the table. "So," she said finally, "I've a score to settle. So have you. You track him down, I'll grab him and extract what he owes me - from his hide, if necessary. Then, you can turn him over to the authorities. How's that sound?"
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Part 22