by Mike Resnick
"Drunk,” said the elf disgustedly. “This won't do at all, John Justin. Not at all."
"The rest of you are drunk?"
"No. You are."
"Of course I am. That's why I'm seeing little green men."
"I'm not a man. I'm an elf."
"Whatever,” said Mallory, shrugging. “At least you're little and green.” He looked around the room again. “Where are the elephants?"
"What elephants?” asked the elf.
"My elephants,” answered Mallory, as if explaining the obvious to a very slow child. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
"Mürgenstürm,” said the elf.
"Mürgenstürm?” repeated Mallory, frowning. “I think he's on the next floor."
"No. I am Mürgenstürm."
"Have a seat, Mürgenstürm. And you might as well have a drink before you vanish.” He checked the amount of whiskey remaining. “A short one."
"I'm not here to drink,” said Mürgenstürm.
"Thank heaven for small favors,” murmured Mallory, raising the bottle to his lips and draining its contents. “Okay,” he said, tossing it into a wastebasket. “I'm all through. Now, sing your song or dance your dance or do whatever you're going to do, and then make way for the elephants."
Mürgenstürm made a face. “We're going to have to get you sobered up, and quickly."
"If you do, you'll disappear,” said Mallory, staring at him owlishly.
"Why did it have to be New Year's Eve?” muttered the elf.
"Probably because yesterday was December thirtieth,” replied Mallory reasonably.
"And why a drunk?"
"Now, hold your horses!” said Mallory irritably. “I may be drunk, but I'm not a drunk."
"It makes no difference. I need you now, and you're in no condition to work."
Mallory frowned. “I thought I needed you," he said, puzzled.
"Maybe a professor of zoology...” muttered Mürgenstürm to himself.
"That sounds like the beginning of a limerick."
The elf uttered a sigh of resignation. “There's no time. It's you or no one."
"And that sounds like a bad love song."
Mürgenstürm walked around the desk to where Mallory was sitting and pinched him on the leg.
"Ouch! What the hell did you do that for?"
"To prove to you that I'm really here, John Justin. I need you."
Mallory glared at him and rubbed his leg. “Whoever heard of an uppity hallucination?"
"I have a job for you, John Justin Mallory,” said the elf.
"Get someone else. I'm mourning my lost youth and other elements of my past, both real and imagined."
"This is not a dream, this is not a joke, and this is not a delirium tremens,” said the elf urgently. “I absolutely must have the help of a trained detective."
Mallory reached into a drawer, pulled out a dog-eared copy of the Yellow Pages, and tossed it onto the desk.
"There's seven or eight hundred of them in town,” he said. “Let your fingers do the walking."
"All the others are already working or are out celebrating,” said Mürgenstürm.
"You mean I'm the only goddamned detective in New York City who's in his office?” demanded Mallory unbelievingly.
"It's New Year's Eve."
Mallory stared at the elf for a long moment. “I take it I'm not exactly your first choice?"
"I began with the A's,” admitted Mürgenstürm.
"And worked your way all the way down to Mallory and Fallico? You must have been looking since October."
"I'm very fast when I have to be."
"Then why don't you hustle your little green ass out of here very fast?” said Mallory. “You're making me think."
"John Justin, please believe me when I tell you I wouldn't be here if it wasn't a matter of life and death."
"Whose?"
"Mine,” answered the elf unhappily.
"Yours?"
The elf nodded.
"Someone's out to kill you?"
"It's not that simple."
"Somehow it never is,” said Mallory dryly. “Damn! I'm starting to sober up, and that was my last bottle!"
"Will you help me?” asked the elf.
"Don't be silly. You're going to vanish in another half minute."
"I am not going to vanish!” said the elf in desperation. “I am going to die!"
"Right here?” asked Mallory, sliding his chair a few feet back from the desk to make room for a falling body.
"At sunrise, unless you help me."
Mallory stared at Mürgenstürm for a long moment. “How?"
"Something that was entrusted to me is missing, and unless I recover it before morning my life will be forfeit."
"What is it?"
Mürgenstürm returned his stare. “I don't think you're ready for this yet, John Justin."
"How the hell can I find something if I don't even know what I'm looking for?” demanded Mallory.
"True,” admitted the elf.
"Well?"
Mürgenstürm looked at Mallory, sighed, and then blurted it out. “It's a unicorn."
"I don't know whether to laugh in your face or throw you out on your ass,” said Mallory. “Now, go away and let me enjoy what little remains of my inebriated condition."
"I'm not kidding, John Justin!"
"And I'm not buying, Morganthau."
"Mürgenstürm,” corrected the elf.
"I don't care if you're Ronald Reagan. Go away!"
"Name your price,” pleaded Mürgenstürm.
"For finding a unicorn in New York City?” said Mallory sarcastically. “Ten thousand dollars a day, plus expenses."
"Done!” cried the elf, plucking a fat wad of bills out of the air and tossing them onto Mallory's desk.
"Why do I feel that this stuff isn't exactly coin of the realm?” said Mallory as he thumbed through the pile of crisp new hundred-dollar bills.
"I assure you that the serial numbers are on file with your Treasury Department, and the signatures are valid."
Mallory cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. “Where did it come from?"
"It came from me,” said Mürgenstürm defensively.
"And where did you come from?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me,” said Mallory. “I've seen some pretty weird sights in this city, but you sure as hell aren't one of them."
"I live here."
"Where?"
"Manhattan."
"Give me an address."
"I'll do better than that. I'll take you there."
"No, you won't,” said Mallory. “I'm going to close my eyes, and when I open them you and the money will be gone, and there will be pink elephants on my desk."
He shut his eyes for the count of ten, then opened them. Mürgenstürm and the money were still there.
He frowned. “This is going on longer than usual,” he commented. “I wonder what the hell was in that bottle?"
"Just whiskey,” answered the elf. “I am not a figment of your imagination. I am a desperate supplicant who needs your help."
"To find a unicorn."
"That's right."
"Just out of curiosity, how the hell did you manage to lose it? I mean, a unicorn's a pretty big thing to misplace, isn't it?"
"It was stolen,” answered Mürgenstürm.
"Then you don't need a detective at all,” said Mallory.
"I don't?"
"It takes a virgin to catch a unicorn, right? Well, there can't be two dozen virgins left in the whole of Manhattan. Just pay each of them a visit until you come to the one with the unicorn."
"I wish it was that easy,” said Mürgenstürm gloomily.
"Why isn't it?"
"There may be only two dozen virgins in your Manhattan, but there are thousands in mine—and I've got less than ten hours left."
"Back up a minute,” said Mallory, frowning again. “What's this ‘yours and mine’ stuff? Do you l
ive in Manhattan or don't you?"
Mürgenstürm nodded. “I told you I did."
"Then what are you talking about?"
"I live in the Manhattan you see out of the corner of your eye,” explained the elf. “Every once in a while one of you gets a fleeting glimpse of it, but when you turn to face it head-on, it's gone."
Mallory smiled and snapped his fingers. “Just like that?"
"Protective colorations” replied Mürgenstürm.
"And just where is this Manhattan of yours? Second star to the right and straight on until morning—or maybe over the rainbow?"
"It's right here, all around you,” answered the elf. “It's not a different Manhattan so much as a part of your own Manhattan that you never see."
"Can you see it?"
Mürgenstürm nodded. “You just have to know how to look for it."
"How do you look for it?” asked Mallory, curious in spite of himself.
Mürgenstürm gestured toward the money. “Accept the job and I'll show you."
"Not a chance,” said Mallory. “But I'm grateful to you, my little green friend. When I wake up, I'm going to write this whole conversation up and send it off to one of those sex forum magazines and let them analyze it. I think they pay fifty bucks if your letter gets published."
The elf lowered his head in defeat. “That's your final word?” he asked.
"Right."
Mürgenstürm drew himself up to his full, if limited, height. “Then I must prepare to meet my death. I'm sorry to have troubled you, John Justin Mallory."
"No trouble at all,” said Mallory.
"You still don't believe any of this, do you?"
"Not a word."
The elf sighed and walked to the door. He opened it and walked out into the hall, then stepped back into the office.
"Are you expecting visitors?” he asked.
"Pink elephants?” asked Mallory.
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.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 2
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.