by Trevor Hopkins

Trinity's ears, and Nether's, pricked up as the sounds of approaching police cars became louder and more distinct. Even the humans in the room finally realised something was going on.

"Can I hear sirens?" Rosie asked, not really displaying any signs of worry. Humans in this city are inured to alarms and sirens - and even gunshots - at all hours of the day and night.

"Cops," Trinity hissed, "Sounds like they're on their way here. Getting closer, fast."

She leaned forward and yanked open a drawer in the desk, and reached inside. There must have been some kind of emergency alert button concealed within, as a loud hooter started up outside, drowning out the police sirens, accompanied by flashing red lights that hurt my eyes.

"What's going on?" Gumshoe demanded, looking around and sounding agitated.

"We're about to be raided," I replied, with what I hoped he would interpret as an ironic grin on my face. Either that, or he would notice the large number of sharp teeth I was displaying.

Gumshoe leapt up and turned to the window overlooking the shop floor. I joined him, more slowly; there was no rush, not just yet. There was even more bustle in the warehouse than when we arrived, but nobody was panicking. They probably practiced this as an emergency drill - perhaps some of them even thought this was still a false alarm.

Moving with the coordination of a well-oiled machine, two Goblins stood one either side of the archway that marked the entrance to the Lower Realms, manipulating hidden - and almost certainly magical - controls. The purple light winked out of existence and the archway itself sank smoothly into the floor leaving not a mark to indicate where it had once stood. It was of course vitally important to ensure that the Goblin world was not discovered by uninitiated members of the human race.

I imagined that the standing instructions to the Goblin staff were: scarper as soon as trouble appears, pausing only to safeguard a few pieces of critical infrastructure. And for the humans, they were to sit tight; you're doing nothing wrong, just loading and unloading trucks with goods; say nothing to the police, just wait for our lawyers to be deployed to get you off the hook.

"Okay, then," I said, turning to Trinity, who was still sitting in her executive chair behind the desk, "Time to be going."

Nether snorted. He knew what was about to happen as well as I did.

No Goblin feels comfortable in a place with only one exit; a lair with just one way out is not a hidey-hole, it's a trap. Trinity was no different than any of us in this respect; it would have been no more than averagely paranoid to expect that there was a hidden exit in this very room. Besides, I had already noted that there were rather more filing cabinets lining the walls than seemed reasonable even for a busy import/export business.

Trinity hopped out of her chair, marched over to the largest bank of cabinets and tapped on several of the drawers in a distinct pattern. For a moment, there was just the sound of Goblin scratching on painted metal, audible even over the racket of the alerts. Then, all at once, the entire front of two of the grey cabinets swung open to reveal a low doorway.

"Come on," Trinity cried, with a glint of malice in her eyes, "This is our exit strategy. Though it may be a tight squeeze for some of you."

Then she ducked into the dark opening and disappeared.

Part 35 Part 37