Stalking the Unicorn: A Fable of Tonight (3 page)

Mürgenstürm shook his head. “Two very large, mean-looking men with bulges under their arms. One of them has a scar on his left cheek."

"Shit!” muttered Mallory, racing unsteadily to the light switch and plunging the room into darkness. “They were supposed to be waiting downstairs!” He hurried back to his desk and knelt down behind it.

"Perhaps they got tired of waiting,” suggested the elf.

"But they don't want
me!"
complained Mallory. “It's Nick Fallico they're after!"

"They looked pretty determined,” said Mürgenstürm. “I think they want anyone they can find."

"Well,” said Mallory, wishing he could have just one more drink, “it looks like you may not be the only one who doesn't live to a ripe old age."

"You're going to kill them?” asked Mürgenstürm.

"I wasn't referring to
them."

"Aren't you going to shoot them?"

"With what?” asked Mallory.

"With your gun, of course."

"I don't own a gun."

"A detective without a gun?” said the elf. “I never heard of such a thing!"

"I never needed one,” said Mallory.

"Never?"

"Until now,” he amended.

"Do you really think they'll kill you?” asked Mürgenstürm.

"Only if they get carried away. They'll probably just break my fingers and see to it that I don't walk without crutches for a couple of years."

Two bulky figures could be seen through the clouded glass of the office door.

"I have a proposition to make to you, John Justin,” said Mürgenstürm.

"Why am I not surprised?” replied Mallory with a touch of irony.

"If I make them go away without hurting you, will you help me find the unicorn?"

"If you can make
them
go away, you don't need my help,” said Mallory with conviction.

"Do we have a deal?” persisted the elf.

The doorknob slowly turned.

"What about the ten thousand dollars?” whispered Mallory.

"It's yours."

"Deal!” said Mallory just as the door opened and the two men burst into his office.

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8:53 PM-9:58 PM

Mürgenstürm murmured something in a tongue that was not even remotely familiar to Mallory, and the two figures suddenly froze in mid-stride.

"What the hell did you do to them?” demanded the detective, cautiously getting up from behind his desk.

"I altered their subjectivity
vis-à-vis
Time,” replied the elf with a modest shrug. “As far as they're concerned, Time has ground to a halt. The condition should last about five minutes."

"Magic?” asked Mallory.

"Advanced psychology,” said Mürgenstürm.

"Bullshit."

"It's the truth, John Justin. I live in the same world you live in. Magic doesn't work here. This is totally in keeping with natural law."

"I heard you chanting a spell,” persisted Mallory.

"Ancient Aramaic, nothing more,” replied Mürgenstürm. “It appeals to their racial memory.” He lowered his voice confidentially. “Jung was very close to it when he died."

"While we're at it, how did you pluck that money out of the air?” asked Mallory, waving a hand in front of the nearer gunman and getting no reaction.

"Sleight of hand."

Mallory stared at him disbelievingly, but said nothing.

"Come along, John Justin,” said Mürgenstürm, walking to the door. “We have work to do."

"I don't think this one's breathing,” said Mallory, indicating one of the gunmen.

"He will be, as soon as Time starts up for him again—which will be in less than three minutes. We really should be going before that happens."

"First things first,” said Mallory. He picked the roll of bills off his desk and shoved it into a pocket.

"Hurry!” said the elf urgently.

"All right,” said Mallory, walking around the two men and stepping out into the corridor.

"This way,” said Mürgenstürm, racing ahead to the elevator.

"Let's take the stairs,” suggested Mallory.

"The stairs?” repeated the elf. “But you're on the sixth floor!"

"Yeah. But the stairs don't let us out in the main lobby, and the elevator does. And whether this is a dream or a DT or reality, a green elf is just naturally going to look a little out of place getting out of the elevator and turning right at the tobacco stand."

Mürgenstürm smiled. “Not to worry, John Justin. We're not getting out on the main floor."

"You think your unicorn is hiding between here and the lobby?” asked Mallory. “All we've got below us are two discount stockbrokers, a drunken one-eyed dentist, a stamp and coin dealer, a guy who handles hot jewelry, and—let me think—a tailor who can't speak English and an old lady who jobs artificial flowers."

"I know,” said Mürgenstürm, stepping into the elevator cab.

"Okay,” shrugged Mallory, following him. “What floor?"

"Just press DOWN,” said the elf.

"There isn't any DOWN button,” said Mallory. “Just floor numbers."

"Right there,” said Mürgenstürm, pointing to the panel.

"Well, I'll be damned!” muttered Mallory. “I never noticed it before."

He reached out and pressed the button, and the elevator began descending slowly. A moment later it passed the second floor, and Mallory looked at the elf.

"I'd better press STOP,” he said.

"Don't."

"We'll crash."

"No, we won't,” said the elf.

"This building hasn't got a basement,” said Mallory with a trace of panic in his voice. “If I don't hit the emergency stop button, they're going to spend the next two days scraping us off the ceiling."

"Trust me."

"Trust you? I don't even believe in you!"

"Then believe in the ten thousand dollars."

Mallory felt his pocket to make sure the money hadn't vanished. “If
that's
real,
this
is real. I'd better stop it now.” He turned back to the panel.

"Don't bother,” said Mürgenstürm. “We passed the main floor ten seconds ago."

Mallory looked up at the lights that denoted which floor the elevator was passing and saw that all of them were dark.

"Great!” he muttered. “We're stuck."

"No, we're not,” said Mürgenstürm. “We're still moving. Can't you feel it, John Justin?"

And suddenly Mallory realized that they
were
moving.

"One of the lights must be on the blink,” he suggested unsteadily.

"All the lights are working,” answered the elf. “They just don't go this far down.” He paused. “All right. You can stop us now."

Mallory hit the STOP button, and was about to press OPEN DOOR when the doors slid back on their own.

"Where are we?” he demanded as they stepped out into a plain, unfurnished, dimly lit foyer.

"In your building, of course,” said Mürgenstürm. “Elevators don't leave their shafts."

"They also don't go below ground level in buildings that are erected on concrete slabs,” said Mallory.

"That's
our
doing,” said Mürgenstürm with a smile. “We visited the architect's office one night and made some changes."

"And nobody questioned it?"

"We did it with a very special ink. Let's just say that nobody who could read it questioned it."

"How far beneath the ground are we?” asked Mallory.

"Not very. An inch, a foot, a meter, a fathom, a mile—it all depends on where the ground is, doesn't it?"

"I suppose so.” He looked around. “You expect to find your unicorn here?"

"If it were that easy, I wouldn't need a detective,” replied Mürgenstürm.

"You brought Time to a standstill and took us to a floor that doesn't exist,” said Mallory. “If that's
easy,
I hate to think about what's hard."

"Hard is finding the unicorn.” Mürgenstürm sighed. “I suppose I ought to take you to the scene of the crime."

"That's usually a pretty good place to start,” agreed Mallory sardonically. “Where is it?"

"This way,” said the elf, walking into the shadows.

Mallory fell into step behind him, and a moment later they came to a door that had been invisible from the elevator. They walked through it, proceeded about twenty feet, and came to a concrete staircase. They walked up two flights and stopped at a large landing.

"Where to now?” asked Mallory.

"Down,” said Mürgenstürm, crossing the landing and starting down another flight of stairs.

"Hold it,” said Mallory. “We just climbed
up
two flights."

"That's right."

"Then why are we going back down?"

"This is a different staircase,” said the elf, as if that explained everything.

They climbed down three flights, came to another landing, and then climbed up a flight.

"Give me a second to rest,” said Mallory, leaning on a banister and panting heavily. He looked around and saw no other stairs. “By my count, we're right back where we started from."

Mürgenstürm smiled. “Not at all."

"Two minus three plus one,” said Mallory, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopping his face. “We're back at the beginning."

"Look around you,” said Mürgenstürm. “Does this look like anyplace we've already been?"

Mallory peered into the gloom and saw an array of lights leading off into the distance, lining what appeared to be a narrow, domed corridor.

"Maybe I'd better not write this up and send it off to one of the magazines after all,” he said at last. “They'd probably lock me away."

"Have you rested enough, John Justin?” asked the elf. “We really haven't much time."

Mallory nodded, and Mürgenstürm started off down the long corridor, his footsteps echoing in the stillness.

"This is a hell of a place to keep a unicorn,” remarked Mallory. “Don't they need sunlight and grass and things like that?"

"We're just arranging for transportation."

"I
wondered
what we were doing,” muttered the detective.

Suddenly the corridor took a hard right, and after another fifty feet they emerged onto a subway platform.

"It's just a subway station,” said Mallory. “There were easier ways to get here."

"Not really,” replied Mürgenstürm. “Not many trains run on this route."

"What station is this?” asked Mallory.

"Fourth Avenue."

"There
isn't
any Fourth Avenue."

"Don't take
my
word for it,” said Mürgenstürm, pointing to a sign above the platform.

"Fourth Avenue,” said Mallory, reading the sign. “Come to think of it, it looks different from the other stations."

"In what way?"

"It's cleaner, for one thing.” He sniffed the air. “It doesn't stink of urine, either."

"It doesn't get much use,” replied Mürgenstürm.

"No graffiti, either,” said Mallory, looking around. He paused. “I wish the rest of them looked like this."

"They did once."

"Must have been before my time.” Suddenly Mallory tensed. “What was that?"

"What was what?"

He peered into the darkness. “I saw something moving in the shadows."

"It must be your imagination,” said Mürgenstürm.

"You're
my imagination!” snapped Mallory.
"That
was something moving. Something dark."

"Ah! I see them now!"

"Them?"
asked Mallory. “I only saw one thing."

"There are four of them,” replied Mürgenstürm. “Have you any subway tokens?"

"Subway tokens?” repeated Mallory.

Mürgenstürm nodded. “Coins will do, but subway tokens really are best."

Mallory fumbled through his pockets and came up with two tokens.

"Toss them over there,” said Mürgenstürm, indicating the spot where Mallory had seen the movement.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Mallory shrugged and flipped the two tokens into the shadows. A moment later he heard a series of shuffling noises, and then two loud crunching sounds.

"Well?” demanded Mallory after a moment's silence.

"Well what?"

"I'm waiting for an explanation."

"Can't you see them?” asked Mürgenstürm.

Mallory peered into the shadows and shook his head. “I can't see a damned thing."

"Cock your head to the right,” suggested the elf.

"What for?"

"Like this,” said Mürgenstürm, demonstrating. “Maybe it will help."

"It's not going to make the place any brighter."

"Try it anyway."

Mallory shrugged and cocked his head—and suddenly he could see four dark hulking figures, their hairy hands almost dragging the ground, squatting against a tile wall and staring at him with red, unblinking eyes.

"You see?” said Mürgenstürm, watching his reaction. “Nothing to it."

"What the hell are they?” asked Mallory, wishing for the second time that evening that he carried a gun.

"They're the Gnomes of the Subway,” replied Mürgenstürm. “Don't worry; they won't bother you."

"They're
already
bothering me,” said Mallory.

"They're not used to seeing men down here,” explained the elf. “On the other hand, I'm not used to seeing
them
here, either. Usually they spend their time at Times Square or Union Square or down at the Eighth Avenue station in the Village."

"I suppose there's a reason."

Mürgenstürm nodded. “They live on subway tokens, so naturally they tend to congregate in those areas where tokens are most plentiful. They're probably just slumming."

"What kind of creature eats subway tokens?” asked Mallory, staring intently at the Gnomes.

"That
kind,” answered Mürgenstürm. “Didn't you ever wonder why the New York Transit Authority continues to make millions of tokens every year? After all, they don't wear out, and they're absolutely no use anywhere else. Theoretically there should be billions of tokens in circulation, but of course there aren't. You might view the Gnomes of the Subway as ecologists of a sort: they stop Manhattan from sinking under the weight of subway tokens, and provide work for hundreds of people who labor all year to create new ones."

"What do they do when they're not eating?” asked Mallory.

"Oh, they're perfectly harmless, if that's what you mean,” replied the elf.