by Mike Resnick
Mallory smiled and shook his head. “They feed on subway tokens.”
“Really?”
Mallory nodded. “They damned near starved to death a few years back when the subways were so dangerous almost nobody rode them. But they're both making a comeback these days—the subways and the Gnomes.”
A train pulled up, and Mallory and his party got on.
“I've never ridden the Manhattan subway before,” remarked Jeeves, looking around. “It's nicer than I thought.”
“It's nicer than the ones I grew up with, that's for sure,” said Mallory. “There's a dining car, an observation car, even a sleeper car for commuters who are going all the way out to Queens or Brooklyn.”
“A sleeper?” repeated Jeeves, frowning. “But Brooklyn can't be forty-five minutes from here.”
A couple passed through the car, hand in hand, and Mallory gestured to them. “If truth be known, mighty little sleeping gets done in the sleeper cars. On the other hand, it makes for a very happy commute.”
“Oh,” said Jeeves.
“Try not to blush,” said Mallory. “It doesn't go with green skin.”
“By the way, what do you see from the observation car in a subway tunnel?” asked the gremlin.
“You'd be surprised what you can see down here if you know where to look,” replied the detective. “Now that we've got a minute or two, tell me a little more about Fluffy.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything that might prove useful,” said Mallory. “For example, how long can she go without food, and if she gets desperate enough, will she eat something besides elephant-shaped chocolate marshmallow cookies?”
Jeeves shrugged. “I don't know. She's been pampered her entire life and never goes more than a few hours without her cookies.”
“Okay, how long can an unpampered toy dragon go without food?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you mean,” said Jeeves.
“I thought I was perfectly clear. How long can a toy dragon go?”
“It's not that simple,” said Jeeves. “How long can he go before he loses his flame? Before he can't fly? Before he dies?”
“Forget it. Let me try another one. How far can Fluffy fly?”
“With or against the wind currents?”
“Goddammit!” snapped Mallory. “Can't you answer anything?”
“I'm trying to,” said Jeeves.
Mallory glared at him and remained silent while Felina busied herself looking at all the obscene graffiti scrawled on the door to the next car. A minute later they came to the Central Park stop and left the car, ascended to ground level, and stepped out into the park.
“Where am I?” said a familiar voice.
“Who was that?” asked Jeeves.
“Oh, God! I found him and now I've lost him!” said the cell phone.
“Your pants are talking again,” said Felina.
“Mallory?” said the phone. “Is it you? Is it really you?”
“Shut up,” said Mallory.
“It is you!” cried the phone. “Then it wasn't a dream!” A pause. “Where are we?”
“In Central Park,” said Jeeves, staring at Mallory's pants with rapt attention.
“Lift me out of here so I can see,” said the phone.
“You don't have any eyes,” said Mallory.
“Let me worry about that,” said the phone.
“If I put you in my lapel pocket and let the top of you stick up an inch over the top, will you be quiet then?”
“Yes, darling.”
Mallory withdrew the phone and moved it to his lapel pocket.
“Oh, this is much better!” said the phone.
“Fine.”
Suddenly the phone began weeping softly.
“What now?” said Mallory.
“After all we've been to each other, you haven't even asked me my name.”
“What's your name?”
“Belle.”
“Why am I not surprised?” said Mallory.
“What a team we're going to make!” said Belle.
“If one half of this team says another word before we reach the dragon pond, it's going to get left in the park.”
“She!” Belle corrected him. “I'm a she, not an it.”
“I'll take it under advisement,” said Mallory. “Now be quiet.” He stood still and surveyed his surroundings.
“Do you know where we're supposed to go?” asked Jeeves.
Mallory nodded. “There's a stable straight ahead. What we want is off to the right.”
“It looks deserted that way,” remarked the gremlin.
“You'd be surprised,” said Mallory.
“Is it dangerous?” asked Jeeves.
“Only to your wallet. We'll be lucky if we run into less than half a dozen goblins selling things nobody could possibly want.”
“Actually, if you're going to the dragon pond, there are eight,” said a voice from behind them.
Mallory turned and found himself confronting a goblin wearing a loose-fitting karate outfit.
“It's shameful the way they harass innocent passersby,” continued the goblin. “I'm surprised you don't hate the entire goblin race.”
“I hate the entire goblin race,” offered Felina happily.
“You see?” said the goblin. “That's what a few thousand bad eggs will do to you.”
“You, of course, have nothing to sell us,” said Mallory sardonically.
“Only my services,” said the goblin.
“Why am I not surprised?” said Mallory.
“I am Chou En-lai Smith, of the Vietnamese Smiths,” said the goblin. “Master of karate, kung fu, judo, jujitsu, fisticuffs, kickboxing, and the off-putting snide remark.” He proudly gestured to the sash around his waist. “Fifth-level puce belt. Hire me, and I'll rid you of any goblin who accosts you with useless trinkets to sell.”
“That's fine,” said Mallory. “But who'll rid me of you?”
The goblin threw back his head and laughed. “I admire your sense of humor!”
“I wasn't being funny,” said the detective.
“Of course you were,” said the goblin. “You need me. You don't know it, but lurking ahead is my cousin Hymie, of the Brooklyn Smiths, just waiting to sell you all twelve 1962 issues of Playboy, and three of them don't even have their center spreads. Further up the park, lurking under that big tree off to your right, is Billybob, of the Alabama Smiths, preparing to pounce on you and sell you copper-plated fishing hooks.”
“Why copper-plated?” asked Mallory, curious in spite of himself.
“They fell out of his pocket into a vat of molten copper when he was robbing the Denver mint. By the time he reached them, they weren't the only thing that was copper-plated. If you should ever get in a fistfight with him and I'm not around to save you, watch out for his left.”
“Thanks for the tip,” said Mallory. “Now go away and leave us alone.”
“I thought we were engaging in an honest negotiation!” said the goblin.
“You thought wrong.”
“What are you, some kind of bigot?”
“I'm the kind who's not going to hire you,” said Mallory.
“Goblin hater!” screamed Smith. “Hey, everyone, we got a goblin hater here!”
Half a dozen goblins suddenly appeared from behind trees and shrubs, brandishing blackjacks and brass knuckles.
“Is that right, Mac?” said one of them. “Do you hate goblins?”
“Just this one,” said Mallory, indicating Chou En-lai Smith.
“Oh. Well, that's okay, then,” said the goblin, turning his back and walking away. “Can't say that I blame you.”
The other goblins all followed suit.
“They're just jealous,” said Smith.
“You mean they want to be hated too?” asked Mallory.
“I've a good mind to break your kneecaps, pulverize your Adam's apple, rip your head off,
and spit down your neck,” said the goblin. “What do you think of that?”
“It sounds messy,” said Mallory.
“It does, at that,” agreed the goblin. “Maybe I'll just cave your chest in with a spinning kick.”
“You're absolutely bound and determined to fight?” asked Mallory.
“Damned straight,” said the goblin. “I'll tear you apart. I'll dissect you with such grace and skill that they'll award me both ears and the tail. I'll—”
“Felina?” said Mallory.
The cat-girl moved in front of him and opened her hands. An instant later each finger sprouted a two-inch razor-sharp claw.
“She's my surrogate,” said Mallory.
“I don't give a damn about your sex life!” snapped the goblin. “Let's fight!”
“You're fighting her.”
“I can't hit a girl,” said the goblin. “It's against the rules. Everybody knows that.”
“Felina,” said Mallory, “do you know of any rule that says you can't remove a goblin's face?”
She smiled a predatory smile and shook her head.
“You're sure you want to do this?” demanded Smith. “You're facing the guy who single-handedly stood off a village of three hundred rabid Chinese leprechauns back in Shanghai.” He paused. “Of course, it helped that I had a submachine gun and they were unarmed peasants, but still…”
Felina took another step toward him.
“All right, cat-thing,” said the goblin, “prepare to die!”
He bent over into a fighting stance and suddenly uttered a piercing shriek.
“You aren't going to scare her by screaming,” said Mallory.
“That wasn't a scream of attack,” rasped the goblin. “It was a scream of pain!”
“Oh?”
“I threw my back out,” he moaned. “I can't straighten up.”
“Ripping his face off is no fun if he can't fight back,” said Felina.
“When did it ever bother you that your prey couldn't fight back?” asked Mallory curiously.
“You're right, John Justin,” she said apologetically. “I wasn't thinking clearly. I'll kill him now.”
“No!” cried Chou En-lai Smith.
“Some other time,” said Mallory to the cat-girl.
“Thank you,” said the goblin.
“My pleasure,” said Mallory, starting to head off toward the dragon pond.
“You're not going to just leave me here, are you?” demanded the goblin.
“Well, you were going to kill me, remember?”
“My passionate nature got the better of me. It was rude of me to want to tear off your head and spit down your neck, and I truly regret mentioning it.”
“You're forgiven,” said Mallory. “And now we're late for an appointment, so…”
“Take me with you!” cried the goblin.
“Like that?” asked Jeeves, who had been a fascinated observer of the little scene.
“Help me straighten up and I'll be fine.”
Jeeves walked once around the bent-over goblin. “How would you suggest?” he asked. “I suppose I could put a knee in your back and pull your arms behind you and…”
“The cure sounds worse than the problem,” complained the goblin.
“Well then,” said Jeeves, “I could tie your arms over your head, and hang you from a tree until you stretch out—but I don't have any rope with me.”
“Felina,” said Mallory, “go straighten him out.”
Still smiling, the cat-girl approached Chou En-lai Smith, extended a forefinger, slid it just beneath the point of his chin, and pressed upward—and as she pressed, he straightened up until a few seconds later he was standing erect.
“Thank you,” he said. “She's quite a weapon, that cat-thing.”
“You just have to know how to aim her,” said Mallory.
“So can I come along with you?” asked the goblin.
“What the hell,” said Mallory with a shrug. “They've already taken a shot at me. Who knows? I may need two bodyguards before this case is over.”
“Case?” repeated the goblin.
“I'm a detective.”
“Have you got an oversexed secretary called Velma? I'm told they go with the job.”
“No,” said Mallory. “I have a partner who's addicted to romance novels and shooting things, an office cat who's a walking appetite, and a magic mirror with an attitude.”
“Pity,” sympathized the goblin. “What kind of case are we on?”
“We're after a stolen dragon.”
“Good!” enthused the goblin. “Finding dragons is one of the very best things I do.”
“Right up there with fighting, is it?” said Mallory.
“I won't tease you about not having a Velma, and you don't tease me about my slipped disk, okay?”
“Deal,” said Mallory. He checked his watch. “And now we've really got to get going.” He began walking toward the dragon pond. “What should we call you?”
“All my friends call me Chou,” replied the goblin.
“Joe it is,” said the detective.
“Just one moment,” said Joe the goblin. He stepped ahead of Mallory and shouted: “This man and his friends are under my protection. Be warned that anyone who threatens or even hinders us faces my fierce and righteous wrath.” He turned to Mallory. “Okay, we can go.”
“Now?” asked Mallory. “Or should we wait for all the laughter to die down?”
CHAPTER 10
10:33 PM–11:01 PM
“I think I see it,” said Jeeves, peering into the darkness.
“Either that, or someone is playing with matches,” said Mallory as small flames briefly darted out.
“Not to worry,” said Joe, moving to the front of the procession. “I'll protect you.”
“From the pond's attendants, or from my partner?” asked Mallory dryly.
“It's not easy being a superhero,” said Joe in hurt tones. “The least you can do is not make fun of me.”
“Do you really come from Vietnam?” asked Jeeves.
“Almost,” said the goblin.
“Almost?”
“I come from the Vietnamese section of the Bronx,” replied Joe.
“That's only a block or two long,” noted Mallory.
“Even so, we have our heroes,” said Joe.
“For example?”
“Danny Diem,” said Joe. “He moved to Hollywood ten years ago. Whenever you see Jet Li or Jackie Chan kicking the shit out of someone, odds are it's Danny.”
“Why not root for a winner?” asked Mallory.
“He's from the neighborhood,” answered the goblin. “We used to cut classes together and sneak off to watch Slinky Sally and Her Educated Snake at the Rialto.”
“Well, that puts a different light on it,” said Mallory.
Joe smiled happily. “I knew you'd understand.”
“John Justin!” called Winnifred. “Is that you?”
“Yeah,” said Mallory, looking around until he spotted her standing near the extensive structure that formed the dragon pond. “Any luck?”
“Not so far,” she said. “And you?”
“Well, I know a few places where he isn't.”
“And who is this?” asked Winnifred, indicating the goblin.
“Joe En-lai Smith at your service, ma'am,” was his response. “Villains defeated, armies destroyed, enemy strongholds laid waste to.”
“Forget all that,” said Winnifred. “How are you at finding dragons?”
“I don't know,” he answered honestly. “I've never lost one.”
“I'm glad you're here, John Justin. Let's get on with the inspection.”
“Who is this…this female?” demanded Belle.
“What was that?” asked Winnifred.
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” said Mallory.
“Try me.”
Mallory pulled the cell phone out of his lapel pocket and held it up.
“You're kidd
ing, right?” said Winnifred.
“Do I look like a joke?” demanded Belle.
“The mind boggles with questions,” said Winnifred.
“Let's look at the pond,” said Mallory. “You can ask them later.”
“All right,” said Winnifred, opening the front gate and walking through into the large interior. She was followed, in order, by Felina, Jeeves, and Joe.
“Lose the cat-thing and the fat broad, Big Boy,” purred Belle as Mallory put her back in his pocket. “I'm all the woman you'll ever need.”
“I can't tell you how comforting that is,” said Mallory as he closed the gate behind him.
The interior of the pond reminded him of a cross between a kennel and a zoo. There was a row of small runs with tops on them to prevent the small dragons within from flying away…but there were also large open areas, filled with trees, ponds, asbestos toys the size of horses, completely fenced off from onlookers, where huge dragons, some fully as large as dinosaurs, were kept. One of them noticed Mallory's little group, opened his mouth, and shot out a flame that would have incinerated them, but it bounced off a transparent fireproof barrier that they hadn't seen in the darkness.
“What stops them from flying away?” Mallory asked Jeeves.
“I don't know,” answer the gremlin.
“I thought you were the dragon expert.”
“I'm the toy dragon expert,” explained Jeeves.
“Look,” said Joe, pointing to a nearby behemoth's back leg. A chain was attached to it.
“I wonder how they got it on him?” mused Mallory.
“Probably just poured some salt on his tail and that nailed him to the spot for a minute,” said Joe.
“I think that only works with fawns, not ten-ton dragons,” replied the detective.
“It doesn't work with fawns either,” said Winnifred. She raised her voice. “May we please have some help here?”
Suddenly lights came on in a small building at the back of the compound, and a troll emerged wearing a nightshirt.
“We're closed,” he said irritably.
“Your gate was open.”
“The fact that I'm careless doesn't give you the right to intrude and wake me up,” said the troll.
“We have a few questions to ask,” said Mallory.
“Come back tomorrow and I'll be happy to answer them.”
“We need answers now.”
“Well, I need my sleep now,” said the troll.