Stalking the Unicorn: A Fable of Tonight (4 page)

"That was what I meant."

"In fact, they graze for fifteen or twenty hours a day,” continued Mürgenstürm. “It takes quite a lot of tokens to fill one of them up.” He lowered his voice confidentially. “I heard that a number of them emigrated to Connecticut when they started making look-alike bus tokens up there, but evidently they weren't as nourishing, since most of the Gnomes have come back home."

"What would they have done if I hadn't tossed them the tokens?” asked Mallory, eyeing them warily.

"That all depends. I'm told they can sniff out a token at two hundred yards. If you hadn't had any, they would have left you alone."

"But I had some. What would have happened if I didn't turn them over?"

"I really don't know,” admitted Mürgenstürm. “I suppose we could ask them."

He took a step toward the Gnomes, but Mallory placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"It's not that important,” he said.

"You're sure?” asked Mürgenstürm.

"Some other time."

"Perhaps it's just as well. We're operating on a very tight schedule."

"Maybe you should tell that to the Transit Authority. I haven't seen any sign of a train."

Mürgenstürm leaned over the edge of the platform. “I can't imagine what's delaying it. It should have been here two or three minutes ago."

"I'll bring it here right now, if you'd like,” offered Mallory.

"You?” said the elf. “How?"

"You
can bring Time to a halt,” said Mallory. “Well,
I
can make it speed up.” He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. Just as he took a long puff and exhaled it, the train sounded its horn and pulled up to the platform.

"Never fails,” remarked Mallory, tossing the cigarette to the floor and stepping on it.

The doors slid open and they got into the subway car, the first in a line of four. Instead of the usual rows of worn-out and uncomfortable seats that Mallory was used to, the surprisingly clean interior of the car consisted of half a dozen curving leather booths. The floor was covered by a carpet of intricate design, and crushed velvet paper lined the walls.

"We get a better class of service on the Fourth Avenue line,” commented Mürgenstürm, observing the detective's reaction.

"You don't seem to get any customers, though,” replied Mallory.

"I'm sure the others are in the diner."

"There's a diner car?” asked Mallory, surprised.

Mürgenstürm nodded. “And a cocktail lounge as well."

"Then what are we waiting for?” said Mallory, getting to his feet.

"I need you sober,” said the elf.

"If I was sober, you'd vanish into thin air and I'd be back in my office."

"I wish you'd stop saying that,” complained Mürgenstürm. “Pretty soon you'll convince yourself it's the truth."

"So what?"

"So when we face certain dangers, you won't believe in them and won't take the proper precautions."

"What dangers?” demanded Mallory.

"If I knew, I'd be more than happy to tell you."

"Take a guess."

The elf shrugged. “I really have no idea. I just have a feeling that when we close in on Larkspur, whoever stole him is not going to be very happy about it."

"Larkspur?"

"That's the unicorn's name."

"What the hell were you doing with a unicorn that wasn't yours in the first place?” asked Mallory.

"Protecting him."

"Against what?"

"Against whoever wanted to steal him."

"Why would anyone want to steal a unicorn?"

"Greed, villainy, an unreasoning hatred of myself—who knows?"

"You're not being very helpful,” said Mallory.

"If I knew all the answers, I wouldn't need a detective, would I?” demanded Mürgenstürm irritably.

"All right,” said Mallory. “Let's try a different approach. Who owns the unicorn?"

"Very good, John Justin!” said Mürgenstürm enthusiastically. “That's a much better question."

"Then answer it."

"I can't."

"You don't know who owns the unicorn?"

"That's right."

"Then how do you know he'll kill you if you don't get it back by sunrise?"

"Oh,
he
won't kill me,” said Mürgenstürm. “He won't get the chance."

"Then who will?"

"My guild."

"Your guild?"

The little elf nodded. “We guard valuable possessions—precious stones, illuminated manuscripts, that sort of thing—and our lives are forfeit if we fail in our duties.” He grimaced. “That's why I had to hire you. I couldn't very well go to my guild and tell them what happened. They would have cut me to pieces."

"When was the unicorn stolen?"

"About noon. This was the first unicorn I'd ever been entrusted with. I thought it would be safe to leave it alone for a few minutes."

"Where did you go off to?” asked Mallory.

Mürgenstürm blushed a dark green. “I'd really rather not say."

"So even elves get laid."

"I beg your pardon!” exploded the elf furiously. “It was a beautiful and deeply moving romantic tryst! I won't have you making it sound cheap and tawdry."

"What it mostly was was stupid,” commented Mallory wryly. “They wouldn't have paid you to guard the damned animal if they didn't think someone might steal it."

"That thought has occurred to me,” said Mürgenstürm unhappily.

"After the fact, no doubt."

"As I was returning to Larkspur,” admitted the elf.

"Dumb,” said Mallory.

"How was I to know?” demanded Mürgenstürm. “Nothing happened the first six times I went off to answer the siren song of romance."

"Just how long was this unicorn in your charge?” asked Mallory.

"Not quite five hours."

"During which time you went off on
seven
romantic trysts?"

"I may look unapproachable and formidable,” said the little elf, “but I have needs just like anybody else."

"You've got needs like
nobody
else,” replied Mallory, impressed.

"All right!” exploded Mürgenstürm. “I'm not perfect! Sue me!"

Mallory winced. “Don't yell,” he said. “It's been a long day, and I've had a lot to drink."

"Then stop belittling me."

"I can do better than that,” said Mallory. “Give me a hard time, and I can stop helping you."

"No!” yelled the elf, causing Mallory to flinch in pain. “Please,” he continued, lowering his voice. “I apologize for losing my temper. It's just my passionate nature. It won't happen again."

"Until the next time."

"I promise,” said Mürgenstürm.

Suddenly the train slowed down and came to a stop.

"Are we there?” asked Mallory as the doors slid open.

"Next station,” replied the elf.

Mallory turned to the door and watched the passengers enter the car. There were three elves, a ruddy little man with a red handlebar moustache whose long overcoat could not totally conceal his twitching reptilian tail, and a smartly dressed elderly woman who had a small, maned, scaled animal on a leash. A Gnome of the Subway raced into the car just as the doors were closing and, disdaining the leather booths, leaned against the far wall and slid slowly to the floor, staring at Mallory all the while.

"I do wish we wouldn't let them ride first class,” complained Mürgenstürm softly, nodding his head toward the Gnome. “They just ruin the ambience."

"On the other hand,” remarked Mallory, “the old lady looks perfectly normal."

"Why shouldn't she?"

"She looks like she belongs in
my
Manhattan, not yours."

"That's Mrs. Hayden-Finch,” whispered Mürgenstürm. “She used to breed miniature poodles.” He sighed sadly. “Twenty-six years and not so much as a blue ribbon.” His face brightened. “Now she breeds miniature chimeras, and she's quite a success. In fact, she took Best in Show at the Garden last winter."

"I don't remember reading about any chimeras at Westminster,” said Mallory.

"North
minster,” corrected the elf. “It's much older and more prestigious."

"That brings up an interesting question,” said Mallory.

"About chimeras?"

"About unicorns. Why was
this
particular one so valuable? Was he a show specimen, or a breeding animal, or what?"

"Another excellent question! Oh, I hired the right man, no doubt about it!"

"I assume that means you don't have an answer."

"I'm afraid not, John Justin,” said Mürgenstürm. “If he wasn't valuable, he wouldn't have been placed in my keeping ... but beyond that, I know as little about him as you do."

"What do you know about unicorns in general?"

"Well,” said Mürgenstürm uncomfortably, “they're usually white, and they have horns that I am told are quite valuable. And they mess their stalls with shocking regularity."

"Anything else?"

The little elf shook his head. “Usually I just guard jewels and amulets and things like that. To be perfectly honest, I don't even know what unicorns eat."

"Then has the thought occurred to you that maybe Larkspur just wandered off on his own to grab a little snack?” asked Mallory.

"As a matter of fact, it hadn't,” admitted Mürgenstürm. “That would make him much easier to find, wouldn't it? I mean, once we know what unicorns eat."

Mallory nodded. “Yes, I'd have to say that it would.” He paused. “You're not much good at your work, are you?"

"No worse than yourself, I daresay,” responded the elf. “If I were a detective, the criminals
I
caught would
stay
caught."

"You haven't had much experience with the New York municipal court system, have you?” asked Mallory.

"What has one to do with the other?” demanded Mürgenstürm.

"Not a hell of a lot,” replied Mallory with some distaste.

The train began slowing down again, and Mürgenstürm got to his feet and walked over to the door.

"Come on,” he said to Mallory.

The detective got up, made a wide semicircle around the miniature chimera, which was hooting at him with an odd expression on its face, and joined the elf just as the train stopped and the doors slid open.

"Where are we now?” asked Mallory, looking around the unmarked platform.

"Unicorn Square."

"New York hasn't got a Unicorn Square."

"I know,” replied the elf. “That's my pet name for it.” Suddenly he giggled. “That's quite a pun—
pet
name!"

"Hilarious,” muttered Mallory, looking around for a staircase. “How do we get out of here?"

"The escalator."

"There isn't one."

"It'll be along any minute,” said Mürgenstürm. “Try lighting a cigarette. Oh, and you might step about three paces to your left."

"Why?"

"Because you're in the way."

Mallory moved aside, “In the way of what?"

"The escalator,” answered the elf.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a shining silver ramp was lowered into place, coming to rest exactly where Mallory had been standing. It hummed mechanically as the stairs began moving upward.

"Where does this take us?” asked Mallory, stepping onto a stair just behind Mürgenstürm.

"Up, of course."

They rode in silence for a few minutes.

"How high up?” asked Mallory at last.

"Ground level."

"We've been riding for three or four minutes,” said Mallory. “Where did we start from?"

"The subway level."

"Thanks."

They emerged into the open air in another minute. It was chilly and drizzling, and Mallory pulled the lapels of his suit jacket up.

"Looks deserted,” he commented. “Where are we?"

"Fifth Avenue and 57th Street."

Mallory looked around him. The buildings seemed vaguely familiar, but somehow the angles were slightly askew. He cocked his head to the right. It didn't help.

"Where are all the cars?” he asked.

"Who'd go driving in this weather?” asked Mürgenstürm, shivering noticeably.

"What about cabs?"

"Here comes one,” answered the elf, pointing south on Fifth Avenue, where a large elephant decked out in sparkling finery was walking up the street toward them. It carried a howdah on its broad back, and in it an elf with a megaphone was pointing out the wonders of Manhattan to a number of other elves who listened with rapt attention. The elephant suddenly spotted Mallory and Mürgenstürm, spread its ears out, extended its trunk toward them, and trumpeted.

"I meant like Yellow Cabs,” said Mallory, stepping back around the corner and out of the elephant's sight.

"Yellow Cab at your service, sir,” cried a voice, and Mallory turned just in time to avoid bumping into a bright yellow elephant, also resplendent in its trappings. “Non-stop to Fifth Avenue and Central Park,” continued the elf who perched on its back. “Guaranteed arrival before midnight."

"That's only two blocks from here,” said Mallory.

"Not the way old Jumbo goes,” replied the cabbie. “He zigs and zags and backtracks like crazy. Not fast, mind you—it's a perfectly smooth ride, and much better than some of those modern, stripped-down models—but determined. There's a fruit stand at 58th and Broadway that he hasn't missed in twenty years. Great memory!"

"Why don't you train him better?"

"Break his spirit?” said the outraged cabbie. “I wouldn't think of it!"

"It seems to me that there ought to be a happy medium between breaking his spirit and spending two hours to travel a hundred yards."

"We travel
miles!"
protested the cabbie. “Of course, we don't go in a very straight line ... but then, getting there is half the fun.” He glared at Mallory. “It's New Year's Eve and I'm a busy man, a very busy man. Now, do you want a ride or not?"

"We'll walk,” replied Mallory.

"Your loss,” said the cabbie. He kicked the yellow elephant with a tiny foot. “Come on, Jumbo—mush!"

The elephant squealed, pivoted 180 degrees, and headed off at a trot, ignoring his rider's frantic instructions.

"Does everyone around here make as little sense as you and that elephant driver?” asked Mallory.

"I thought he made perfect sense,” replied Mürgenstürm.

"You would,” said Mallory. “Let's get going."

"Right,” agreed Mürgenstürm, heading off across Fifth Avenue.