Our investigative partnership had been engaged by a committee of the casino bosses, at least one of whom must have had some inkling of the true nature of what lay beneath their feet. Or been able to find out. It's amazing just what money can buy, if you try hard enough - and you have enough of it. In any case, the name of our partnership had come to their attention, even though we do not advertise and indeed do our best to maintain a low profile.

Gumshoe had done the initial negotiations, as well as making interim reports in writing, on the phone and person, with me staying firmly out of sight. But now the final report, and our final payment, was due and our contact had requested an interview in person. Both of us: "Gamshack and Gask, Private Investigations." In the politest way, it was made clear this is was an invitation not to be refused.

We turned up at the appointed time at the largest casino in town, with me wearing my best attempt at a disguise as a human. Gumshoe abandoned his ancient Oldsmobile in the car park, rather than relying on the dubious skills of the parking valets. In short order we were shown into an expansive and very plush office on the upper floor by a couple of large men in dark glasses and dark suits - expensive suits carefully tailored to leave plenty of room under the arms.

Stretching away from us was a long table of highly-polished wood. Down both sides of it sat a series of men. They were all old men - not as old as me, of course, given the Mayfly human existence - but well-dressed and well preserved, and with the unmistakable trappings of money and power lingering about their shoulders. These would be the legitimate businessmen who ran the city of Las Vegas - unofficially, of course - and all the fleshpots, bars and gambling joints therein.

The goons in suits backed away and closed the doors behind them. There were a couple of modern leather office chairs standing empty at the end of the table closest to the door. We took the hint and sat. I selected a chair which had been adjusted to it maximum height, which meant I was not forced to peer over the edge of the table like a child.

Opposite us, at the far end of the table, was another man, younger than most but one who seemed to be Master of Ceremonies, at least for today.

"Welcome, Mister Gamshack, and Mister - Gask, is it?" he said smoothly.

"It is," I replied in my best attempt at an American English accent, "It's a pleasure to meet you all."

I did not seriously expect to hear any names offered in this audience. So it was something of a surprise when the man at the far end of the table got up and walked around and offered his hand. Gumshoe stood politely and took the proffered palm.

I noticed that he didn't offer to shake my hand. Whether because he was uncertain of the protocols in the Lower Realms or just that he didn't want to be scratched wasn't clear. By the way, Goblins do not have claws; it's just that our fingernails are particularly strong and sharp compared with the puny human equivalent.

"My name is Roy Bridges," the boss man said, adding with some pride, "I am the manager of this casino."

"It's a very impressive place you've got here," Gumshoe replied with a lack of sincerity I suspected only I could detect.

Bridges waved his hand airily, dismissing the majestic building and the highly-effective money-sieve as if it was a mere nothing.

"I've been very impressed by the way you've dealt with our recent little problem," he went on, "And I thought - indeed, we all thought - you might consider making your role here in Las Vegas a more permanent one."

Gumshoe frowned. I watched Bridges quizzically as he strolled back to his seat at the head of the table.

"I don't understand," he said, sounding puzzled, "We've completed the assignment you gave us already."

"We find our livelihood vulnerable to - well, I guess magic is the word," Bridges said carefully as he resumed his seat, "And we would like to offer you both a more permanent role to plug that weakness."

It was clear enough that we were being offered a retainer to police the casinos in this town, with the unspoken suggestion that we should deploy magics forbidden on the surface to protect against similar incidents in the future. I have a rule always to decline such offers of long-term employment, regardless of how lucrative they appear to be. They always lead to a position where your employer thinks they own you, and then you end up being put in an immoral, untenable or otherwise undesirable position. Gumshoe knew this rule, too.

"We'd be delighted to be of service at any time in the future," Gumshoe replied, smiling widely, "But unfortunately we do have other cases that demand our immediate attention."

"Ah," Bridges looked faintly disappointed, "Of course your services must be in considerable demand. No matter."

Gumshoe reached inside his coat and pulled out a large manila envelope. He opened it, made a show of thumbing through the typewritten sheets inside, then closed it again and put it on the polished tabletop.

"Here's your final report, as promised," Gumshoe said.

"Ah, yes. Good," Bridges drawled, "And no doubt you feel you deserve your final payment, too. Cash is always best for these matters, don't you think?"

"Always acceptable to me," Gumshoe grunted.

Bridges nodded, and a man on Gumshoe's right produced another envelope. He slid it across the slippery table just out of Gumshoe's reach. But not mine. I was quick enough to grab it as it slid past. I picked it up and looked inside. Wads of new hundred-dollar bills, still in the bank's binding. It looked about right.

"Thank you," I said, nodding to Gumshoe, "That will do nicely."

"Of course," Bridges demurred, "I imagine you must be going now. Please do think over our offer."

The door opened and the two bouncers reappeared, although he hadn't signalled them in any way I had spotted. We both stood, or at least Gumshoe did; I hopped down from the high chair in a way I've practised many times over the years.

"We’ll consider it carefully," Gumshoe replied politely, "And please don't hesitate to call should you require our further services."

"Oh, we won't," Bridges said wryly, "Good evening to you both."

We were shown out of the front door of the casino with polite disinterest. I felt sure the black-suited heavies were studying us closely, as professionals do. If either of us returned to this or any other casino in town, we would be watched closely just in case we got funny ideas about turning a quick buck on the tables.

Part 1

Part 3