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"Are you sure?" I demanded. Trinity nodded, looking irredeemably smug. "Pretty sure," she smiled nastily, "My boys ran around here more quietly than your dear Captain's flatfoots. Although I'd admit there's a certain amount of luck involved, too." "Where is he?" I wanted to know. Trinity seemed to be enjoying the moment. "We were just watching the streets," she said with relish, "And, for a while, there was nothing much to see. But, then I noticed a lot of Goblins, big mean-looking Goblins, converging on a place over that way." She waved a finger vaguely. "The Library Theatre." Living space in the Lower Realms is always at a premium, but those with more money than sense can usually find a way of overcoming the planning and zoning regulations. The Library Theatre was a circular building set in the centre of the plaza that few people visited. It was an architectural folly with a domed roof, originally erected as a library by a generous but misguided philanthropist on a budget, a minor palace of learning for the lower orders. It soon became too small for its original function and operated for a time as a theatre in the round, but the size and shape of the building meant that it was both operationally inconvenient and not large enough to turn butts-on-seats into a profit. The theatre was closed down and the building boarded up for quite a while, at least according to the newspaper reports, the memories of which had started stirring behind my eyes. "Ah," I retorted, "I should have guessed. So why haven't you and your boys gone and got him then?" Trinity snorted. "Reinforcements," she replied shortly, "There's a small army in there now, if the number of bodies I saw can be believed." The old theatre would make a superb defensible position, with lines of sight in all directions, including upwards. It would be impossible for anyone to approach without getting shot at. It would need a massed attack - and serious protections - to take such a stronghold. "You're the one with the Establishment connections," she went on, "Time for you to help." It was my turn to grin as well. "There's a quicker way of getting Luncardy's attention than just asking," I said wryly, "Follow me." I reached into my pocket for my PI buzzer, then set off at a run in the direction of the Theatre. One of the universal rules of policing is that running people always attract the attentions of the police, and I had not gone more than a couple of hundred yards when I heard a voice behind me. "Hey, you! Stop, police!" I stopped and raised my hands slightly. My sister and her henchmen did the same, Trinity in particular looking frustrated. The young copper didn't recognise me, so I flashed the PI badge at him. "Findo Gask, Private Detective," I said sharply, "I know where Garrick can be found. Get on the blower to your Captain and get her down here pronto!" It didn't take long for Luncardy and her crew to turn up. They had probably seen me hurrying about from their command and control eyrie in any case. The Captain stalked up to me, her eyes narrowed in professional suspicion, distracted only briefly with a glare in the direction of my sister. "Two Gasks in the same place at the same time," she muttered, "Can't be good." "Very funny," Trinity sneered. Goblin faces are very good at sneering. "Quit messing about," I said grumpily. I had been skipping far too much sleep to be able to tolerate very many of these games. "Okay, so what's the urgency?" Luncardy demanded, her gaze flicking from Trinity to me and back again. "I've found Garrick," Trinity replied shortly, "Are you sure?" Luncardy responded, sounding stereotypically cop-sceptical. "Look, I want Garrick detained as much as either of you," Trinity said, sounding annoyed, "And I would've gone and got him myself if I thought there was the slightest chance I could do it without being shot." I interjected with a quick explanation of the Library Theatre before the two ladies started trying to tear each others throats out. To her credit, Luncardy saw both the problem and the logic behind it immediately. She sullied her immaculate face by furrowed her brow for a few seconds before summoning over her most trusted lieutenants for a brief conflab. Within moments, we were off, a large fraction of the combined police forces making their way along side-streets and trying to keep under cover. But to no avail. I guess it was impossible to hide the approach of such a considerable force from those emplaced in the theatre. Some of the advance guard - including Luncardy and myself - were attempting to conceal ourselves in alleys and doorways when we all felt a surge of that difficult-to-describe feeling, the innate sense of magic being deployed that, after thousands of years of exposure, most Goblins are very finely attuned to. I looked over the plaza to the old theatre. As I watched, it seemed to shimmer in a pale blue haze, as if it had suddenly receded to a great distance and I was seeing it through many miles of dusty atmosphere. I recognised it immediately, of course, although I had never seen one this big. It was a protection glamour, an impermeable magical shield. It must have cost a fortune. I sprinted across the plaza, my sudden anger and frsutration allowing me to outpace even Luncardy's long legs. I rammed the translucent, faintly-sparkling shield with my shoulder - pointless, since I just bounced off and collapsed on the stone flags of the plaza. My shoulder ached for days afterwards. Picking myself up, I could see that the old theatre was entirely surrounded by the magic, with a gap of just a few dozen paces between the shield and the worm stonework of the building. Then a door opened and I could see a solitary figure walking across the stonework of the plaza, a figure I recognised. Professor Urquhart Garrick. He stopped on the other side of the barrier and regarded me coolly. "So, dear boy, here we are again," he said, as calmly as if it were an afternoon tutorial in a cosy little office off the quad. "Garrick," I acknowledged, barely keeping my seething anger in check. "A stalemate," Garrick went on in the same professorial tones he always used, "Time to call off your dogs. I have what your friends in the police would undoubtedly call a hostage. Miss Rosie o'Chill." "No!" I cried, hammering on the impervious magical shield with my fists and the butt of my gun, "Let her go!" The Professor just shook his head. "I don't think so," he said calmly.
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Part 90