The lobby lift door slid open again as soon as it had closed, and Sam expected to see Harold fussing with the button. Instead, they stood before a gloomy chamber filled with row upon row of shelves. 

‘How…?’ 

Jasper stepped past his dithering son and triggered the light sensors. ‘Speedlifts!’ 

‘How far down or up did we go?’ 

‘We’re about two hundred metres below The Society lobby.’ 

‘What?’ Sam hurried to keep up. ‘We travelled two hundred metres in a second? That’s impossible!’ 

Jasper favoured his son with an expansive grin. ‘Boring old office, indeed! Down here,’ he spread his arms, ‘impossible is one word that’s seldom used. Now where is Theoretical Genetics? I swear it moves every time I… Oh, I give up. Flic!’ He turned and shouted.