Read Online Stalking the Unicorn: A Fable of Tonight by Mike Resnick - Free Book Online
Authors: Mike Resnick
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to rid ourselves of all the peripherals and get down to the basic contest."
"I found another job for my secretary, Velma,” said Trenchcoat as Mallory winced, “and then the Weasel and I sat down and began discussing creative alternatives..."
"We gave serious consideration to cards—there's a poker game over on the next block for the ownership of Lincoln, Nebraska, that's been going on even longer than we have—but we wanted something where chance didn't enter into it..."
"So we hit upon chess,” concluded Trenchcoat.
"And here we are. I strike in the dead of night and steal his pawn..."
"And I trail him down dark twisting alleys between bishops and rooks,” concluded Trenchcoat with a contented sigh. “It's really much more satisfying than hunting for murderers. Or unicorns, for that matter."
"Speaking of unicorns...” began Mallory.
"I thought we were speaking of chess,” said Trenchcoat.
"Only some of us were,” said Mallory. “Some of us are looking for a stolen unicorn."
"I hardly see how we can help you."
"We tracked him to this street, and then we lost his trail. Has he passed by in the last few hours? He would have had a leprechaun with him."
"Who knows?” replied Trenchcoat with a shrug. “I've been concentrating on my next move for two days now."
"How about you?” asked Mallory.
"I was watching him to make sure he didn't try to cheat,” answered the Weasel.
"At any rate, I wouldn't be in such a hurry to catch him if I were you,” remarked Trenchcoat.
"Why not?"
"Take it from a fellow detective: you're viewing this from the wrong perspective. One unicorn, properly and thoroughly stolen, can provide a man with a lifetime's employment."
"Thanks for your suggestion,” said Mallory. “But the lifetime is his" —he jerked a thumb toward Mürgenstürm—"and it ends tomorrow morning if I don't find the unicorn."
"Who's going to kill him?” asked Trenchcoat.
"I have a feeling that it's going to be a race between his guild and the Grundy."
"The Grundy?” asked Trenchcoat, arching an eyebrow. “Is he involved in this?"
"Yes."
"Watch out for him,” warned Trenchcoat. “He's a mean one."
"Can you tell me anything about him?” asked Mallory.
"I just did,” said Trenchcoat.
"Do you know anything about a leprechaun named Flypaper Gillespie?"
"Just generically."
"Generically?” repeated Mallory.
"Leprechauns are a vicious and surly race."
"I don't suppose you'd care to join in the hunt?"
Trenchcoat surveyed the chessboard for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. “Not when I'm closing in for the kill."
"In that case, you could leave now,” said the Weasel.
"You do seem to have him in a bit of trouble,” agreed Mallory, taking a quick glance at the board.
"You think so?” said Trenchcoat triumphantly. “Then watch this!"
He reached forward, picked up his queen, and placed it on the next table, just behind a vase filled with artificial carnations.
"Mon Dieux!" muttered the Weasel, astonished. “The boldness, the effrontery, the sheer brilliance of it!"
He immediately fell silent as he began considering how best to protect his king's bishop from an attack launched from a neighboring table.
"There's no sense hanging around here any longer,” said Mallory, shaking his head in disbelief. “Where the hell is our faithful tracker?"
Mürgenstürm pointed down the street to a mesh litter basket with a KEEP OUR CITY CLEAN sign affixed to it, where Felina, bareheaded, was rummaging for edible garbage.
"Call her over and let's get this show on the road,” said Mallory. As Mürgenstürm went off to fetch her, the detective leaned over to the Weasel and whispered, “Saltshaker to queen's bishop five."
The Weasel's eyes widened. “You know,” he said excitedly, “it's so crazy it just might work!” He went back to studying the board.
"What happened to your hat?” asked Mallory when Felina returned with Mürgenstürm.
"I got tired of it,” she said with a
"I found another job for my secretary, Velma,” said Trenchcoat as Mallory winced, “and then the Weasel and I sat down and began discussing creative alternatives..."
"We gave serious consideration to cards—there's a poker game over on the next block for the ownership of Lincoln, Nebraska, that's been going on even longer than we have—but we wanted something where chance didn't enter into it..."
"So we hit upon chess,” concluded Trenchcoat.
"And here we are. I strike in the dead of night and steal his pawn..."
"And I trail him down dark twisting alleys between bishops and rooks,” concluded Trenchcoat with a contented sigh. “It's really much more satisfying than hunting for murderers. Or unicorns, for that matter."
"Speaking of unicorns...” began Mallory.
"I thought we were speaking of chess,” said Trenchcoat.
"Only some of us were,” said Mallory. “Some of us are looking for a stolen unicorn."
"I hardly see how we can help you."
"We tracked him to this street, and then we lost his trail. Has he passed by in the last few hours? He would have had a leprechaun with him."
"Who knows?” replied Trenchcoat with a shrug. “I've been concentrating on my next move for two days now."
"How about you?” asked Mallory.
"I was watching him to make sure he didn't try to cheat,” answered the Weasel.
"At any rate, I wouldn't be in such a hurry to catch him if I were you,” remarked Trenchcoat.
"Why not?"
"Take it from a fellow detective: you're viewing this from the wrong perspective. One unicorn, properly and thoroughly stolen, can provide a man with a lifetime's employment."
"Thanks for your suggestion,” said Mallory. “But the lifetime is his" —he jerked a thumb toward Mürgenstürm—"and it ends tomorrow morning if I don't find the unicorn."
"Who's going to kill him?” asked Trenchcoat.
"I have a feeling that it's going to be a race between his guild and the Grundy."
"The Grundy?” asked Trenchcoat, arching an eyebrow. “Is he involved in this?"
"Yes."
"Watch out for him,” warned Trenchcoat. “He's a mean one."
"Can you tell me anything about him?” asked Mallory.
"I just did,” said Trenchcoat.
"Do you know anything about a leprechaun named Flypaper Gillespie?"
"Just generically."
"Generically?” repeated Mallory.
"Leprechauns are a vicious and surly race."
"I don't suppose you'd care to join in the hunt?"
Trenchcoat surveyed the chessboard for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. “Not when I'm closing in for the kill."
"In that case, you could leave now,” said the Weasel.
"You do seem to have him in a bit of trouble,” agreed Mallory, taking a quick glance at the board.
"You think so?” said Trenchcoat triumphantly. “Then watch this!"
He reached forward, picked up his queen, and placed it on the next table, just behind a vase filled with artificial carnations.
"Mon Dieux!" muttered the Weasel, astonished. “The boldness, the effrontery, the sheer brilliance of it!"
He immediately fell silent as he began considering how best to protect his king's bishop from an attack launched from a neighboring table.
"There's no sense hanging around here any longer,” said Mallory, shaking his head in disbelief. “Where the hell is our faithful tracker?"
Mürgenstürm pointed down the street to a mesh litter basket with a KEEP OUR CITY CLEAN sign affixed to it, where Felina, bareheaded, was rummaging for edible garbage.
"Call her over and let's get this show on the road,” said Mallory. As Mürgenstürm went off to fetch her, the detective leaned over to the Weasel and whispered, “Saltshaker to queen's bishop five."
The Weasel's eyes widened. “You know,” he said excitedly, “it's so crazy it just might work!” He went back to studying the board.
"What happened to your hat?” asked Mallory when Felina returned with Mürgenstürm.
"I got tired of it,” she said with a
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