by Mike Resnick
"There's no problem,” she assured him. “Identification is really only necessary for rentals, not for outright purchases."
Mallory pulled out his last two hundred-dollar bills and handed them to her.
"I'm sure you'll enjoy joining the Lost Boys, and staying young forever,” she said with a smile. “And, of course, you'll be meeting Princess Tiger Lily, and Tinker Bell, and Wendy and Michael and John."
"I'm looking forward to it,” said Mallory. “Can you wrap it? It's still drizzling out, and I wouldn't want anything to damage it."
"Of course,” she said. She pulled a sheet of brown paper out from under the desk, wrapped it around the painting, and taped it together. When she was done she handed it to him. “Thank you for your patronage, Mr. Mallory—and do enjoy your painting."
"I intend to,” he promised her.
He paused by the door and pulled his street map out of his pocket, studied it for a moment, took out a pen, circled a location, and then replaced both the pen and the map in his robe's spacious pocket. He looked out the window and, seeing that the basketball court had finally turned the corner and was on its way to St. Louis, tucked the painting under his arm and went out.
He couldn't see any sign of Mürgenstürm, so he made a production of lighting a cigarette and tying his shoelace until he finally spied the little elf half a block away. Once he was sure that Mürgenstürm had spotted him, he began walking again.
He proceeded north for a few more blocks, then turned west and began winding in and out of narrow side streets, making it difficult but not impossible for Mürgenstürm to keep shadowing him.
Finally, after leading the little elf on an incredibly intricate route for the better part of twenty minutes, he came to the Kringleman Arms, climbed the front stairs, and entered the foyer.
"Hello again,” said Kris, looking up from the center-spread of a girlie magazine. “Did you ever find Flypaper Gillespie?"
Mallory nodded. “He won't be back again."
"How about the unicorn? Did you find it too?"
"Yes."
"You've been a busy boy tonight, haven't you?” said Kris with a grin.
"And I'm not through yet,” replied Mallory. “How's the Kristem coming?"
Kris shrugged. “They haven't run any races since you left, so it's doing pretty much the same."
"It's still got some bugs in it?"
"A few,” said the desk clerk defensively.
"You know,” said Mallory thoughtfully, “what you really need is a sponsor."
"A sponsor?” repeated Kris.
Mallory nodded. “Someone who's willing to put some venture capital into a legitimate field-test of the Kristem."
"I agree,” said Kris. “But where am I going to find someone like that?"
"He may be standing right in front of you,” said the detective.
"You?"
"It's a possibility,” replied Mallory. “But there's a condition."
"There always is,” muttered Kris unhappily.
"You may not mind this one."
"Okay. What is it?"
"I'm just visiting this Manhattan. I want to know if the Kristem works in my Manhattan."
"So you want me to field-test it there, is that it?” asked Kris.
"Right."
"No problem,” said the desk clerk happily. “Hell, the seats are more comfortable at your Aqueduct anyway.” Suddenly he stared intently at Mallory. “How much money are we talking about?"
"Lots,” said Mallory.
"You've got yourself a deal! When do you want me to start?"
"Soon,” said the detective. “But first let's go up to Gillespie's room for a moment."
"Okay—but you're not going to find anything up there. I kind of cleaned him out after you left.” He frowned. “I could kill the little bastard!"
"Oh? Why?"
"Most of the jewelry was imitation!"
"Well, no one ever said he was smart—just dishonest.” Mallory saw a flash of green out of the corner of his eye. “Do you remember the way to Gillespie's room?"
"Fifteen, twelve, fourteen, thirteen,” replied Kris. “Easy as pie."
"Fifteen, twelve, fourteen, thirteen,” repeated Mallory. “You're sure about that?"
"I've been up there three times since you left,” Kris assured him.
"All right,” said the detective. “Let's go."
They took the elevator to the fifteenth floor, then climbed down to the twelfth, ascended to the fourteenth, and finally went back down to the thirteenth.
"Here we are,” said Kris, opening the door.
"You really did clean him out, didn't you?” remarked Mallory, inspecting the nearly barren room. The magazines, videotapes, and almost all of the booty had been removed. Very little remained except for Gillespie's broken-down furniture, his doll's bed, his cooking utensils, fifty unmatched argyle socks, and a few hundred balls of string.
"I figured that I was just taking his overdue rent out in trade,” replied Kris with a smile.
"And you're doubtless holding it in trust until Nick the Saint asks for it,” said Mallory dryly.
"You got it,” acknowledged Kris.
Mallory began unwrapping the painting.
"What's that?” asked the desk clerk.
"What does it look like?"
"Like some no-talent kid traced a comic book onto a piece of canvas,” said Kris.
Mallory held the painting up to the light. “It does, doesn't it?” he agreed.
"Now, if you really want to see some art,” said Kris confidentially, “come back down to the lobby and I'll show you some of the magazines I confiscated from up here."
"Perhaps later,” said Mallory, searching the walls until he found a nail protruding from the plaster. “This looks like the perfect place for it,” he announced, hanging the painting on the nail.
"If you say so,” replied Kris. “I still don't know what you see in it, though."
"It has hidden qualities,” said Mallory. “Maybe it'll grow on you."
"Like a fungus,” said Kris with conviction. He looked at the detective curiously. “Is this all you came up here for—to hang that painting on the wall?"
"And to wait,” replied Mallory.
"For who?"
"For whoever comes in the door next,” said Mallory. He walked over to the coffeepot. “Would you care for some coffee?"
"No, thanks. I live on that stuff all night."
"Well, if you've no objections, I'll have some,” he said, picking up the pot and filling his New York Mets mug. “After all, it's my goddamned cup.” He was just preparing to take a sip when the door opened and Mürgenstürm, a huge revolver in his hands, entered the room.
"All right, John Justin!” he said. “Where is it?"
"Where is what?” asked Mallory innocently.
"You know what I want! Where's the ruby?"
"Ruby?” said Mallory. “I haven't seen any ruby around here.” He turned to Kris. “Have you seen one?"
"I don't know what you're talking about,” said Kris, backing away from the elf.
"It will be daylight in less than an hour!” snapped Mürgenstürm. “If I don't get my hands on it, I'll die!"
"That's hardly my fault,” replied Mallory. “You had ample time to get out of town."
"They would have found me,” said the elf with conviction. “If I have to die, I won't die alone—I promise you that, John Justin!” He took a step forward. “Now, where is it?"
"You'd really kill me, wouldn't you?” said Mallory.
"I have no choice."
Mallory sighed. “All right,” he said. “I'll show you."
"I'm glad we understand each other,” said Mürgenstürm. “Where is it?"
"In there,” said Mallory, pointing to the painting.
"In there?” repeated Mürgenstürm incredulously.
"In Captain Hook's treasure chest,” explained Mallory. “I thought it would be safe until I decided to come back for it."
Mürgenstürm's eyes narrowed. “Smart, John Justin—very smart.” He smiled triumphantly. “But I guess I'm just a little bit smarter!"
"Maybe so,” agreed Mallory. “And maybe not."
"What are you talking about?"
"The Grundy's probably been watching every move either of us have made since we left the warehouse,” said Mallory. “You don't really think he's going to let you enter the painting, do you?"
Mürgenstürm closed his eyes in intense concentration for a moment, then opened them. “I've frozen Time for him again. He'll be no threat for at least ninety seconds."
"He's going to be one mad demon when he snaps out of it,” said Mallory.
"By then I'll be in your Manhattan with the ruby,” said Mürgenstürm. “Stand over by the wall there, next to your friend."
Mallory moved where the elf indicated.
"I'm taking my gun with me,” said Mürgenstürm. “If you try to follow me, I won't hesitate to use it."
"I believe you,” said Mallory.
"You'd better,” said Mürgenstürm. He dragged a chair over to the painting, climbed up on it, and entered the world of Peter Pan.
Mallory immediately walked along the wall to the corner of the room, approached the painting cautiously, and, when he reached it, quickly turned it to the wall.
"Charm's no substitute for brains, either,” he said with a grim smile.
"What the hell is going on?” demanded Kris.
"I haven't got time to explain,” said Mallory. “We've got less than a minute before the Grundy snaps out of it and starts watching me again. Do you still want to field-test the Kristem?"
"Hell, yes."
"All right,” said the detective, pulling his street map out of his pocket. “Take Fourth Avenue until you come to this little side street—I've marked it on the map."
"And then what?"
"You'll find two guys sitting outside playing chess."
"In this weather, at six in the morning?” said Kris dubiously.
"That game seems to be the one constant in an everchanging universe,” said Mallory. “That's why I chose it.” He stared intently at the desk clerk. “Now, listen carefully, because I haven't got time to repeat it. There will be a saltshaker on white's queen's bishop five. Open it up and empty the salt out. Assuming that a friend named Felina followed my orders, at the bottom of it you'll find the biggest ruby you ever saw. Take it to my Manhattan immediately, pawn it or sell it, and you'll have sufficient operating capital for the Kristem. Do you understand?"
"Yes, but—"
"No buts,” said Mallory, checking his watch. “Wait until I've been gone for a few minutes before you go after it—and if you want to live long enough to test the Kristem, don't mention the ruby to anyone!"
"Whatever you say."
"That's what I say. Now, let's go. He'll be awake in another ten seconds."
They walked to the door, climbed down the stairs to the twelfth floor, and took the ancient elevator down to the first floor.
"By the way,” asked Kris as Mallory was about to leave, “what'll happen to the elf?"
"I guess he'll have to learn how to get along with Captain Hook and Mister Smee until someone flips the painting over,” said Mallory with a smile.
"But no one has any reason ever to go up there again,” the desk clerk pointed out.
"Well,” replied Mallory, “that's the chance you take when you become a pirate."
Kris laughed. “Care for a drink before you leave?"
"No, thanks,” said Mallory. “I've still got a couple of things to do before sunrise."
"Thanks for stopping by,” said Kris. “It's been an interesting night."
"My pleasure,” said Mallory. Then, for the Grundy's benefit, he added, “We'll talk more about my funding the Kristem the next time I stop by."
Before Kris could answer, Mallory walked out the door and began strolling down the wet pavement, feeling very pleased with himself as the early morning sky began changing from black to gray.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 18
6:13 AM-6:57 AM
Since he had no intention of arriving at his destination before Kris had time to retrieve the ruby, Mallory walked at a leisurely pace, stopping to look into the more interesting store windows he passed, purchasing a fresh pack of cigarettes, browsing over the paperback rack in front of a newsstand. When he reached the Broadway area he stopped at a pastry shop and selected a dozen doughnuts of various shapes and flavors, then went next door and bought a pound of ground coffee.
He checked his watch again, decided that he had given Kris more than enough time to pick up the precious stone and make his way through the membrane, and increased his pace. Eight minutes later he reached Mystic Place, and a moment later he descended the stairs to Mephisto's front door.
It was locked, but he had little difficulty jimmying it with a credit card. He checked the wall, and discovered that Captain Captain hadn't wasted any time sending a crew over for Periwinkle.
Mallory went into the kitchen, put the doughnuts in the refrigerator, and made up a pot of coffee. Then he returned to the living room, sat down on an uncomfortable Danish modern couch, picked up a telephone from an equally ugly end table, and dialed Information. They gave him the number of the Morbidium, and a moment later he was speaking to Winnifred Carruthers.
"Mallory!” she exclaimed. “Are you all right?"
"I'm just fine,” he assured her. “How about you?"
"We made it home without any trouble."
"Good,” said Mallory. “How's Eohippus?"
"His wounds are healing. We've made a stall for him out of a children's casket that we filled with straw. He says he likes it here, and we've invited him to stay."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"I'm just bursting with questions,” She continued. “What happened to the ruby, and how did you escape from that terrible place?"
"Tell you what,” said Mallory. “I'm about half an hour's walk from the Morbidium. Why don't you come by and I'll tell you all about it over coffee and doughnuts?"
"I'd love to,” said Winnifred. “Where are you?"
"7 Mystic Place. I'll leave the door unlocked."
"Isn't that Mephisto's address?"
"I've sublet the apartment from him,” said Mallory.
"Oh?” said Winnifred. “What's happened to him?"
"He was called away rather suddenly on official government business,” said Mallory with a smile. “I don't think he'll be needing the apartment for the next couple of years."
"Well, I'd best hang up and start on over,” said Winnifred. “I'll see you in ten minutes."
"I said half an hour."
"I thought I'd catch a horse-drawn carriage,” she explained. “They tend to line up at the end of my street; it should be no trouble to get one at this time of night."
"Then get it twenty minutes from now,” said Mallory.
"Is something wrong?"
"No,” he answered. “But there's one last thing I have to do, and I don't want you around for it."
"Will you be all right?"
"Probably."
"It's got something to do with the Grundy, hasn't it?” she said.
"Yes."
"Be careful, Mallory."
"I'll do my best,” he replied. “See you in half an hour."
He hung up the phone, then looked around the room again, searching for some way of contacting the Grundy. His gaze came to rest on the crystal ball, and finally he picked it up and examined it. As he turned it over, searching in vain for some sort of control, snow seemed to fall out of the sky onto a pastoral setting, and when he set it back down it seemed intent on showing him an old Marx Brothers movie.
Finally he sighed, picked up the phone, and asked Information for the Grundy's number. After an initial shriek of horror, he was informed that the Grundy's number was unlisted.
"What the hell,” he muttered to himself, staring at t
he dial. “You don't hit the moon if you don't shoot for it.” Then, carefully, he dialed G-R-U-N-D-Y.
Instantly there was a puff of reddish smoke, and the Grundy stood before Mallory in all his demonic glory.
"Son of a bitch!” said Mallory. “It actually worked."
"I saw you trying to make contact with me, and decided to accommodate you,” said the Grundy. He stared at the detective, his eyes glowing balefully. “The membrane has hardened, Mallory. You have lost your last chance to escape."
"You've lost even more than that,” said Mallory, leaning back on the couch. “The war's over, Grundy."
"What are you talking about?” demanded the demon ominously.
"The stone's in my Manhattan, where neither you nor I can get at it."
"I don't believe you."
"Believe whatever you want,” said Mallory with a shrug. “But you'll never see the ruby again. You're going to have to be satisfied with this world."
"Nobody would willingly relinquish an object of such power,” said the Grundy with conviction. “You still have it, Mallory, and this attempt to convince me that a man of your qualities would give it up is unworthy of you."
"If you say so."
"I do,” said the Grundy. “But you have still blundered. You had the opportunity to walk away in safety, and you ignored it. Now I shall watch and wait, and when you reach for the ruby I shall strike. However brief the remainder of your life may be, you will spend it here."
"There are worse places to be,” replied Mallory. “Hell, in one night I learned the ground rules, found the ruby, and managed to keep it from you. Who knows? In a week's time, I could own this place."
"This Manhattan is not the utopia you think it is, Mallory,” said the demon.
"Perhaps not,” acknowledged Mallory. “But on the other hand, it's no worse than the one I left."
"You think not?” thundered the Grundy. “Then keep your eyes on the crystal!"
He made a gesture with his hand, and suddenly Mallory could see the intersection of Fifth Avenue and 57th Street in Mephisto's crystal ball. A number of pedestrians were standing at the corner, waiting for the light to change.
"The policeman, I think,” said the Grundy, pointing an arrow-shaped finger toward a cop who was directing traffic. Suddenly the policeman clutched his chest and collapsed. “And the old woman,” added the Grundy. He pointed again, and an elderly lady was jostled and fell into the street, right in front of a passing carriage.