Stalking the Unicorn: A Fable of Tonight (30 page)

"How?"

"We know he's infiltrated our forces, so we've taken countermeasures to discourage him."

"Such as?"

"Have you ever heard of the Department of Redundancy Department?” asked Major MacMasters.

"I can't say that I have,” replied Mallory. “It sounds fascinating."

"It's more than fascinating. It's damned effective!"

"What does it do?” asked Mallory.

"Maybe you should talk to the head of it.” Major MacMasters gestured toward one of his companions. “Mallory,” he said, as a tall, trim man approached them, “allow me to introduce you to Captain Peter Anthony Captain."

Mallory extended his hand. “Captain Captain?"

"Right,” said Captain Captain, taking his hand and shaking it vigorously. “What can I do for you?"

"Tell him about the Department,” said Major MacMasters.

"There's not all that much to tell,” answered Captain Captain. He turned to Mallory. “We're in charge of all the army's red tape."

"How does that help you harass the enemy?” asked Mallory.

"You'd be surprised what you can do with a little red tape,” replied Captain Captain with a smile. “Take the case of Grobinsky, for example."

"Who is Grobinsky?"

"We don't know,” admitted Captain Captain. “But we know that he's not one of
us.
He's an enemy infiltrator who somehow rose to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel."

"So what did you do to him?” asked Mallory.

"We began by transferring him to Manhattan, just to see where he wanted to be reassigned. But he was a tricky son of a bitch: all he requested was a transfer to the front.” He lit a small cigar. “Next, we had him fill out fifty-seven identical forms, which he then had to take to fifty-seven separate governmental offices around the city. Finally, after he had made the rounds, we tentatively approved his transfer, pending a physical examination."

"Let me guess,” said Mallory. “He had to take fifty-seven of them."

"Right,” said Captain Captain. “And we found that his weight varied by two pounds between the first and last of them.” He smiled. “Naturally, we accused Grobinsky of being an enemy spy—six of him, anyway. The other fifty-one Grobinskys were cleared for transfer."

"So what happened?” asked the detective.

"He took six more physical exams, and since his weight was the same on all six, the charges were dropped—but all six of him were denied transfers."

"What about the other fifty-one?"

"Each and every one of them was transferred from Manhattan to Manhattan."

"Isn't it diabolical?” grinned Major MacMasters. “The poor bastard has been locked away with acute schizophrenia for almost half a year now!"

More gunfire came to their ears.

"They're getting closer,” remarked Captain Captain.

"Good!” said Major MacMasters. “All this inactivity was beginning to pall."

"Are you guys really looking for a battle?” asked Mallory.

"Absolutely!” said Major MacMasters. “When all is said and done, battling is our function in life."

"I might be able to help you out,” said Mallory.

"Oh? How?"

"Well, since it's obvious that you're not going to be sent to the front, how would you feel if the front came in here?"

"You mean into Pinnochio's?” asked Captain Captain uncomprehendingly.

"Right,” said Mallory. “I think there's an excellent chance that the guy doing the shooting out there is one of the enemy's most accomplished spies."

"There is?” asked Major MacMasters, his little black eyes shining with excitement.

Mallory nodded. “I have reason to believe that he's on a reconnaissance mission.” He paused. “I think I can lure him in here."

"Capital!” cried Major MacMasters. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. “Why would he follow
you
in here?"

"Because he's trying to kill me."

"But you're a civilian,” interjected Captain Captain. “What does he have against you?"

"I'm fighting a private little war against the Grundy,” answered Mallory.

"Let me think this out,” said Major MacMasters. “If you're
against
the Grundy, and this man is out to kill you..."

"Then he must be
with
the Grundy!” concluded Captain Captain triumphantly. “Of course we'll help you, Mallory! We may not know who the enemy is, but we know that he must be in league with the Grundy!"

"I'd prefer that you just detained this guy for a while, rather than killing him,” said Mallory.

"We'll
be the best judge of whether he deserves killing or not,” said Major MacMasters firmly.

"Well, before you put him to the sword, you ought to know that he's got some possessions that might prove very useful to you,” said Mallory.

"Such as?"

"Well, for starters, he's got a magic mirror that can give you direct access to the Grundy."

"Oh, Tactical would give a pretty penny to get their hands on something like
that!"
exclaimed Captain Captain happily. “Thanks for the information, Mallory."

"I want you to do me a favor in exchange for it,” said Mallory.

"We're already saving your life,” complained Major MacMasters. “What else do you want?"

"Give the mirror a nice setting,” said Mallory. “Something classy. Maybe a wall of the War Room in the Pentagon."

"What difference does it make?"

"I promised it."

"You made a promise to a mirror?” asked Major MacMasters. “That's most irregular!"

"It's not a normal mirror,” said Mallory, feeling distinctly foolish.

"Obviously not,” agreed Major MacMasters. He considered the proposition. “All right, Mallory—we'll agree to your terms."

"And don't worry,” added Captain Captain. “By the time the Department of Redundancy Department gets through with him, he won't be
worth
killing!"

"All right,” said Mallory. “Get your men ready."

He took a deep breath and walked back out onto the street. There was no sign of Mephisto, and since he didn't want to get too far from Pinnochio's front door, he decided against walking up and down the street to attract the magician's attention, but instead leaned against the nearest streetlamp.

After five uneventful minutes Mallory put a cigarette in his mouth and pulled out his lighter. Then a shot rang out, and the cigarette was cut in half.

"I've got you now!” cried Mephisto, stepping out from around a corner. “Hands over your head, Mallory!"

Mallory raised his hands and started backing away from the magician.

"It was a nice try,” continued Mephisto, “but you've got to get up pretty early in the morning to pull the wool over my eyes!"

"That's the stupidest metaphor I ever heard,” said Mallory, still backing up toward Pinnochio's door.

"If you're so goddamned smart, how come
I've
got the gun?” laughed Mephisto.

"Dumb luck,” replied Mallory.

"The world is divided into winners and losers,” said Mephisto. “And the winners
make
their luck."

"If you say so,” said Mallory, diving through the open door of the tavern.

"You're not getting away from me twice!” yelled Mephisto, breaking into a run.

Mallory ducked down behind a table and watched as the magician burst through the doorway, only to be instantly subdued and disarmed by Major MacMasters and his fellow officers.

"What's going on here?” bellowed Mephisto. “Let me go!"

"Looks decidedly like a Russkie to me,” remarked Major MacMasters, staring at him while two men held him motionless.

"I don't know,” said another. “I think he might have a trace of Arab blood."

"Definitely Slavic,” offered a third. “Note the beady eyes and weak chin. Definitely an untrustworthy type."

"We'll find out soon enough,” said Captain Captain, shouldering his way through the crowd. “What's your name, fella?"

"The Great Mephisto!"

"Do you capitalize the
G
in Great?"

"What the hell difference does it make?” demanded the magician.

"We need to know these things for our records,” replied Captain Captain.

"I never thought about it,” admitted Mephisto.

"We'll come back to that,” said Captain Captain. “I'm a patient man. Now, how do you spell Mephisto in English, German, French, Italian, Spanish, Arabic, Swahili, and Serbo-Croatian?"

Mallory stood up and walked to the door.

"You'll keep him on ice for a few hours?” he asked.

"Mallory!” screamed Mephisto. ‘I'll kill you!"

"Shut up, you!” said Captain Captain. He turned to the detective. “I'd say it's going to take the Department at least a week just to get his name, rank, and serial number right. He'll be filling out forms for the next six months before we can even begin to process him."

Mallory grinned, saluted him, and went back out into the street. He could still hear Mephisto's threats and curses when he was two blocks away.

[Back to Table of Contents]

5:05 AM-6:13 AM

Mallory turned north on Fifth Avenue. The street was almost deserted except for a few elephants carrying passengers and a number of street-cleaners riding rhinoceroses which pushed the slush from the broad thoroughfare with metal plows that were attached to sturdy leather harnesses.

He stopped at an all-night newsstand and purchased a paper to see if there were any coverage of Flypaper Gillespie's death, and was relieved to find that there was absolutely no mention of the leprechaun. The lead story was devoted to the capture of a foreign spy by off-duty military officers in a local tavern, but no details had been released.

He tossed the paper in a trashcan, checked his watch to make sure he was on schedule for his next checkpoint, and began walking north again.

At 38th Street he came to a huge crowd that had gathered around a trio of breakdancing gremlins, and had to step into the street to circle around them. Before he could make it back to the sidewalk he had been joined by a tall, somber-looking, bearded man in a turban and a flowing white robe.

"I'm pleased to see that such vulgar displays don't interest you, Sahib,” said the man, falling into step beside him. “You strike me as a man of rare perception."

"What are you selling?” asked Mallory wearily.

"Eternal peace."

"Let me guess,” said the detective. “You're an undertaker?"

The man smiled patronizingly. “I am a mystic, who has divined the answers to the great mysteries of the ages."

"Which you dispense for a small honorarium?” suggested Mallory.

"I take no money for myself!” replied the man with great dignity.

"You give these answers away for free?” said Mallory skeptically.

"Absolutely! All I ask is a small donation to cover my overhead."

"Your overhead consists of a turban,” said Mallory, increasing his pace.

"Not so, Sahib!” the man corrected him. “I am the proprietor of Abdullah's Mystic Emporium."

"Never heard of it."

"It's on the next block. Perhaps you would care to stop in and join your fellow seekers after Ultimate Truth?"

"I don't think so,” said Mallory.

"Have you never felt a desire to probe the eternal mysteries?” said the man persuasively.

"Like life and death?"

The man wrinkled his nose contemptuously. “We have gone beyond such simplistic questions."

"Then what the hell mysteries
do
you answer?” asked Mallory.

"Those that affect our daily lives, of course."

"Such as?"

"Why can't adults open childproof bottles?” said the man meaningfully. “Why do elevators all arrive at the same time?” He paused to assess Mallory's reaction, then continued. “Why can you never find a taxi when it's raining?"

"They're fascinating questions,” agreed Mallory. “But I think I'd rather let them remain great unsolved mysteries."

"We're also having a sale on transistor radios."

"Not interested."

"Ah, Sahib, my heart bleeds for you! You are making such a mistake!"

"Do you really want some business?” asked Mallory suddenly.

"Most certainly,” the man assured him.

"There's an ugly little elf about half a block behind me."

The man looked back down the street. “I do not see him."

"He's hiding,” said Mallory. “It's kind of a game we're playing. Anyway, collecting radios is one of his hobbies."

"It is?” asked the man eagerly.

Mallory nodded.

"I also happen to have some stereo headphones marked down to cost."

"Right up his alley,” Mallory assured him.

The man stopped walking, bowed low, and made a gesture with his hand. “A thousand blessings upon you, Sahib!"

"My pleasure,” replied Mallory with a smile.

The detective continued walking north. After another six blocks he stopped and looked behind him, and saw a green shape dart into a recessed doorway some two blocks away.

"One side, buddy!” cried a voice, and Mallory turned to see a pair of elephants plodding up the middle of Fifth Avenue, towing what looked for all the world like a basketball court. Half a dozen wildly exuberant young men sat atop each elephant, swigging beer and singing their college fight song. The elephants were turning onto a cross street, and Mallory found his way blocked as the court slowly began edging around the corner.

"What the hell is going on?” asked Mallory.

"We came, we saw, and we conquered!” yelled one of the young men triumphantly.

"What are you talking about?"

"The big game! We won 55-54 in overtime!” replied the student.

"Anyone
can cut down the basketball net for a trophy!” cried another.
"We're
taking home the whole goddamned court!"

"Where are you guys from?” asked Mallory.

"Florida!” they chorused proudly.

"And you're going to pull the court all the way home?"

"That's right!"

"I hate to tell you this,” said Mallory, “but you're going the wrong way."

"We're stopping off in St. Louis first to visit my girlfriend,” explained one of the young men.

"Lots of luck,” said Mallory.

"Keep out of the way, or you'll need luck more than we do!"