Stalking the Dragon (5 page)

“Well?” said Mallory, looking at Felina. “You know her scent. Is she here—or
has
she been here?”

“No, John Justin.”

“You're sure?”

She gave him a look of such withering contempt that he decided to accept it as an affirmative.

“Sorry to have put you to the trouble,” said Mallory to the handler.

“No problem. I hope you find Fluffy. I'd hate to see a chimera win the show.”

Mallory and his team returned to the beach. He stopped by a bait shop, which specialized in water buffalo and moose. It made him wonder just what people went fishing for around here. He asked the proprietor where he could find a pay phone.

“Ain't got one,” came the answer. “Got an old cell phone that someone left here. I'll sell it to you for ten dollars.”

“Make it five,” said Mallory.

“Can't sell you five. Only got the one phone.”

“Five dollars.”

“Split the difference,” said the man. “Nine-fifty and it's yours.”

Mallory laid a ten-dollar bill on the desk.

“Got no change,” said the man. “I'll have to owe it to you.”

He handed the phone to Mallory, who took it outside.

“My, what strong manly hands you have!” crooned the phone in a sultry voice.

Mallory stared at it without saying a word.

“The strong silent type,” said the phone. “I
like
that in a man.”

“Do you actually work?” asked Mallory.

“Try me, Big Boy,” said the phone.

Mallory began tapping out Brody's number.

“Oh my! Oh my!
Oh my!
” moaned the phone.

“Are you all right?” said Mallory when he had one more number to enter.

“Oh, yes, baby!” purred the phone. “Was it good for you, too?”

Mallory looked around to make sure that Felina and Jeeves weren't paying any attention, then tapped in the last number.

“Any ransom demands yet?” he asked when Brody picked up the receiver.

“None,” came the answer. “Are you making any progress?”

“We've eliminated Fire Island, if that counts.”

“Where are you going next?”

“I haven't decided,” said Mallory. “I'll have a quick powwow with your assistant and make up my mind, then check in with you when I get back to Manhattan.”

He broke the connection and was about to rejoin his companions when a single shot rang out and a bullet buried itself in the wall about an inch to the left of his head.

C
HAPTER
6

8:47
PM
–9:21
PM

“What happened?” asked Jeeves.

“What the hell does it look like?” said Mallory, scanning the darkness. “Felina, did you see anything?”

“Yes, John Justin.”

“What?”

“Someone tried to kill you,” she said. Suddenly she frowned. “It's early in the evening for killing. I wish they'd wait a few hours.”

“Thanks for that note of loyalty,” muttered Mallory. “Did you see anything else?”

“I saw the cutest, fattest little bird…”

“Never mind.” Mallory began walking, then suddenly stopped. “You two go ahead to the launch. I'll join you in a minute.”

“Ah!” said Jeeves knowingly. “A sudden call of Nature. Discretion is my middle name.”

“Felina is
my
middle name,” said the cat-girl proudly.

“I thought it was your first name,” said Jeeves.

“It is. I like it so much I use it for
all
my names.”

Then they walked around a corner. Mallory waited for a moment, then cleared his throat.

“All right,” he said without raising his voice. “I know you were watching. Who took that shot at me?”

“You must know by now that it is against my nature to reveal such things to you,” said the Grundy's disembodied voice.

“You want me to find this damned dragon or not?” said Mallory irritably. “I won't be of much use with a bullet in my head.”

“I made the assassin miss,” said the Grundy. “That should constitute enough help.”

“Did you kill him?” asked Mallory.

“Certainly not.”

“Then he'll probably try again.”

“Well, you
are
in a dangerous profession,” said the Grundy.

“You could make it less dangerous if you'd just—”

“This interview is at an end,” interrupted the Grundy, his voice fading on the wind.

“Thanks a lot,” said Mallory bitterly. He began walking toward the boat, then realized he was still holding the cell phone and put it in his pocket.

“It's dark and stuffy in here!” complained the phone.

“Be quiet,” said Mallory.

“I thought I meant something to you,” whined the phone. “I thought we shared something beautiful.”

“We shared a phone call,” said Mallory. “If you'll shut up and stop bothering me, someday we may share another one.”

“Go ahead!” cried the phone. “Break my heart! See if I care!”

“You don't have a heart,” said Mallory. “You're a telephone.”

“I know which of us doesn't have a heart,” said the phone. “Just you wait. Someday you'll need me, someday it'll be a matter of life and death, and maybe I'll put your call through and maybe I won't.”

“I'm starting to remember why I don't like cell phones.”

“Go ahead, insult me,” said the phone. “Cast me aside now that you've had your way with me. I'm never speaking to you again.”

“I can live with that,” said Mallory, increasing his pace to join Felina and Jeeves just before they all climbed onto the launch.

“Hey, Good-Looking,” said the phone. “Want to dial one more number, just for old times' sake?”

“What was that?” said Jeeves.

“Don't ask,” growled Mallory as the boat left the dock and began making its way back to Manhattan.

“How many fish are in a river, John Justin?” asked Felina, leaning far over the side of the boat.

“Lots.”

“How
many
?” she persisted.

“Twenty-seven trillion and eight,” said Mallory.

She reached down suddenly. Mallory heard a bite and a gulp, and then she straightened up and smiled at him. “Twenty-seven trillion and seven,” she corrected him, and then leaned over the side again.

“
Bon appétit
,” said Mallory. He turned to the gremlin. “Tell me again: What is a win at Eastminster worth in prize money?”

“There isn't any prize money,” answered the gremlin. “Just a satin rosette and a trophy.”

“Is the trophy solid gold?”

“Silver-plated,” said Jeeves.

“Something's wrong,” said Mallory.

“Yes,” said Jeeves. “Someone's stolen Fluffy.”

Mallory shook his head impatiently. “There's something wrong with this whole setup.”

“I don't understand.”

“Somebody just tried to kill me,” said Mallory. “You don't risk getting caught for murder or attempted murder for a piece of ribbon and a silver-plated trophy. There's got to be more involved. Lord knows I'm not worth much, but I'm worth more than a ribbon and a trophy.”

“Twenty-seven trillion and six,” announced Felina.

“I'm lonely,” said the cell phone.

Jeeves stared at Mallory's pants. “Is that your gun talking?” he asked.

“I don't carry a gun.”

“A detective without a gun—isn't that unusual?” asked the gremlin.

“No,” said Mallory. “Walking around in the middle of the night looking for an eleven-inch dragon named Fluffy is unusual. Not carrying a gun is merely eccentric.”

“Twenty-seven trillion and fourteen,” said Felina.

“You found eight fish on the boat and threw them in?” asked Mallory, surprised.

“No, I caught and ate another.”

“Then why is it twenty-seven trillion and fourteen?”

“Because I don't know what comes before twenty-seven trillion and six,” answered the cat-girl.

Mallory grimaced. “I'm going to give you a B-plus for that answer. It makes as much sense as anything else this evening.”

“Is a B-plus good to eat?” asked Felina.

“Only with mustard and whipped cream,” replied the detective.

“Eighty-three trillion and ninety-two!” cried Felina, holding up another fish. Suddenly she frowned and threw it back into the water.

“Too small?” asked Mallory.

“Too dead,” she replied. “I like to play with them first.”

“Yeah,” concurred Mallory, “I can see where the dead ones hardly play at all.”

“They cheat,” agreed Felina.

“Do me a favor,” said Mallory. “You see better in the dark than the rest of us. Go to the back of the boat and see if anyone is following us.”

“For two macaws, a parrot, and a musk ox,” she replied.

“How about: for not throwing you overboard right now?” said Mallory.

She considered for a moment, then nodded her agreement. “Okay, I'll go look.”

“Why do you think we're being followed?” asked Jeeves.

“Someone took a shot at me. Whoever it was knows we've left the island. It makes sense that he has no further business there. If he's following us, maybe we can arrange a little surprise for him when he lands.”

“He might not land where we do,” said Jeeves.

“And there might be a typhoon in the next thirty seconds,” said Mallory. “I can only plan for what I can control.”

“I thought contingency plans were for what you
couldn't
control,” said the phone.

“Once upon a time I thought so too. I even thought cell phones couldn't talk. You live and learn.” Mallory turned and walked to the back of the boat. “Anyone following us?” he asked Felina.

“Just the swimmer,” said the cat-girl.

“Swimmer?” repeated Mallory. “Where?”

She pointed to a spot in the water.

“Stop the boat!” snapped Mallory.

The boat came to a halt.

“Now where is he?”

“He's a she,” said Felina.

“Okay, where is
she
?”

“She'll reach us in another minute,” said Felina, pointing to a spot about two hundred yards distant. Mallory peered into the darkness and finally saw a steady ripple in the water, a ripple that was clearly approaching them.

In another thirty seconds he could make out the shape of a muscular woman, her arms and legs covered with grease, her bathing cap sporting a British Union Jack, swimming directly toward the boat.

“Avast there!” said a strong female voice. “Are you from the
Match
?”

“I beg your pardon?” said Mallory.

“The
Paris Match
,” she said. “You know—the newspaper!”

“I'm afraid not.”

“Damn!” said the swimmer, who now came up alongside the boat. “Well, do you see any members of the press in the area?”

“There's nothing in the area except us,” said Mallory.

“And twenty-seven trillion and seventy-three fish,” added Felina helpfully.

“Were you expecting the press?” continued Mallory.

“Of course,” said the woman. “Whenever you swim the English Channel, you expect the press to greet you at the other end.”

“The English Channel?” repeated Mallory.

“All right, all right,” she said irritably. “I know I went a little off course, but they set me straight at Brisbane.”

“Not as straight as you think,” said Mallory. “This is New York.”

“Are you quite sure?” she asked. “It smells just like Liverpool.”

“Not as sure as I was when I first arrived here,” answered Mallory. “But pretty sure.”

“Damn!” said the woman. “I'm getting really tired of all this swimming.”

“Let me give you a hand into the boat.”

“Oh, I couldn't do that,” she replied. “Not at all cricket. Hardly the British thing to do.” She paused. “Well, I must be off. Treading water is a total waste of energy. Is Maggie Thatcher still the prime minister?”

“I'm afraid not,” said Mallory.

“What a shame! What Brit does Ronald Reagan confide in these days?”

“Hardly anyone since he died,” replied Mallory.

“My goodness!” she said. “Who's left to face the Soviet Union? I'd best be off immediately,” she said. “I'll stay in France only long enough to give the press their interviews and have dinner at Maxim's, and then, if we haven't subdued the Falkland Islands yet, maybe I'll swim down there and lend a hand.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” said Mallory.

“Apologize to the New York press for me,” she said, starting to swim away. “I hate to disappoint them, but I really must get to France. I hope they have a soufflé at Maxim's; I'm getting rather tired of fish.”

“Those are
my
fish!” Felina yelled after her, but she was already out of earshot.

“Every time…” said Mallory.

“Every time?” repeated Jeeves curiously.

“Every time I think I'm starting to understand this Manhattan, something like that happens.”

“
This
Manhattan?”

“Never mind. If I try to explain, we'll both wind up with headaches.”

“
I
don't have a headache, darling,” said the cell phone.

“I thought we weren't on speaking terms,” said Mallory.

“I forgive you,” said the phone.

“Hey!” hissed Felina, staring angrily at Mallory's pants. “It's
my
job to forgive him!”

“Lose the bimbo,” said the phone. “I'll be waiting for you.”

They reached shore in another few minutes, and Mallory pulled out the phone.

“I want the same number I dialed before,” he said.

“Kiss me first,” said the phone.

“I haven't got time for this nonsense.”

“No kiss, no call,” pouted the phone.

Mallory put the phone back in his pocket and walked into a nearby drug store.

“You got a phone?” he asked the goblin behind the counter.

“Hey!” said the cell phone. “
I'm
a phone!”

“I want one that doesn't talk back,” said Mallory.

“Wouldn't you rather have a condom?” asked the goblin, staring at Mallory's pants.

“No,” said Mallory.

“You sure?” persisted the goblin. “I've never heard one of them talk before. If you're on friendly enough terms to have a conversation with it, the least you can do is protect it.”

“Just a phone.”

“We got blueberries, orangeberries, redberries,” said the goblin. “We got phones that play the Star-Spangled Banner when they ring, we got phones that cast a holographic image of Voluptuous Vanessa doing her specialty act (with or without the snake), we got phones that play the fourth quarter of the 1967 Super Bowl, we got—”

“I don't want to
buy
a phone,” said Mallory, struggling to get a word in edgewise. “I just want to
borrow
one.”

The goblin stared at him. “How do I know you'll bring it back?”

“I'm not taking it anywhere. I just need to use it right now.”

“That's what they all say,” replied the goblin. “Then they call Madam Bolero's House of Spanish Pleasures in Madrid and I'm stuck with the bill.”

“I want to make a local call.”

“Madrid isn't local.”

“I'm not calling Madrid.”

“You're not?” said the goblin. “Are you sick or something?”

“Something,” answered Mallory, trying to control his impatience.

“All right,” said the goblin, placing an old-fashioned dial phone on the counter. “Give me ten dollars and you can make a one-minute call.”

“That's extortionate,” said Mallory.

“That's business,” replied the goblin with a smile.

“Are you open to a counteroffer?”

“Sure.”

“One dollar for ten minutes.”

“Out of the question,” said the goblin.

“You're quite sure?” said Mallory.

“How dumb do I look?” said the goblin.

“Don't ask.” He turned to the door. “Felina! Come in here.” The cat-girl entered the store. “Would you like a new toy to play with?”

She grinned and nodded.

Mallory gestured to the goblin. “Here it is.”

“On second thought, a dollar for ten minutes is a perfectly reasonable price,” said the goblin quickly.