Stalking the Dragon Read online

  “Good evening, Mallory,” said the Grundy, still with his back to the detective. “I expected you, of course.”

  “Is that why you sent the second string out to guard the bridge?”

  The Grundy turned and smiled. “They are there only to detain visitors long enough for me to decide what to do with them.”

  Felina eyed the chimera hungrily, and the Grundy pointed at a spot just in front of her feet. A bolt of lightning shot out from his finger and melted the floor inches from where she stood.

  “Tell your pet that my pet is not to be touched.”

  “I think she gets the picture,” said Mallory. He looked around. “So where are you hiding him? Or is it her, or perhaps it?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Fluffy. Brody's dragon.”

  “I didn't steal her.”

  “Stealing her would make you the favorite to win Eastminster,” said Mallory. “It wouldn't run contrary to your ethical precepts, either. Why don't you make my job easy and just return her to me and we'll forget it ever happened?”

  “I have never lied to you, John Justin Mallory,” said the Grundy. “I am not lying now.”

  “But you knew I was coming here.”

  “I am the most logical suspect,” agreed the Grundy.

  “Okay, if you didn't steal her, who did?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Oh, come on!” snapped Mallory. “You're the Grundy! Nothing goes on in New York that you don't know about!”

  “I have been preoccupied working with Carmelita,” said the demon.

  “Carmelita?” repeated Mallory.

  “The most perfect chimera ever hatched,” said the Grundy, indicating the creature at the other end of the leash. “She is the defending champion of Eastminster, and I have every intention of winning again tomorrow.”

  “And stealing Fluffy makes it that much easier.”

  “I did not steal her,” repeated the Grundy. “It's against my principles.”

  “You kill tens of thousands of people, you wreak havoc whenever you can, and you tell me that stealing a dragon is against your principles?” said Mallory.

  “My sporting principles,” the Grundy continued. “Winning Eastminster without defeating Brody's dragon would be a hollow victory. I want that dragon there in the ring! I intend to beat it fair and square.”

  Mallory stared at him for a long minute. “All right,” he said at last. “You're a lot of things I don't like, but a liar isn't one of them.”

  “Let me go a step further to prove my sincerity,” said the Grundy. “Whatever Brody's paying you to find his ugly little dragon, I'll double it.”

  “For the same job?”

  “That's right.”

  “There's a four-thousand-dollar bonus if I get the dragon to the ring on time,” said Mallory.

  “I'll make it ten thousand,” said the Grundy.

  “You got yourself a deal,” said Mallory. He paused. “It's amazing how often I wind up working for you, considering that you're Evil Incarnate and I'm a semi-moral man.”

  “I am neither good nor evil,” said the Grundy. “I am simply a balance point between worlds. I have explained it to you many times.”

  “I understand the explanation,” replied Mallory. “I'm still waiting for you to do your first good deed, or to see your first spontaneous act of generosity.”

  “On some other world,” said the Grundy. “This one needs precisely what I bring it.”

  “Okay, so much for Philosophy 101,” said Mallory. “Why don't you make my job really easy now that you've hired me, and tell me where the damned dragon is?”

  “I don't know.”

  “You could find it in five minutes with your powers.”

  “Less,” said the Grundy.

  “Well?”

  “I have to work with Carmelita,” said the Grundy. He stared critically down at the chimera, who was growling softly. “She still has a tendency to toe out with her left forefoot, and she's occasionally too slow dousing her flame when the judge examines her teeth.”

  “Five minutes,” repeated Mallory.

  “That would certainly be a good deed,” said the Grundy. “But I am a demon: my nature precludes me from helping you, much as I would like to bring this to an immediate resolution. I am willing to pay you, but you will have to earn your money on your own, John Justin Mallory.”

  He turned his back and began working with the chimera again, and finally Mallory walked back out of the castle, followed by Felina, who had been remarkably quiet since the Grundy had melted the floor around her.

  “All went well, I hope?” said a voice, and Mallory found himself facing Charlie the elf.

  “Could have been worse,” said the detective.

  “Good. Let's have a drink and discuss it. You buy the first four rounds.”

  “No, thanks,” said Mallory.

  “Boy, you're not very grateful that I let you live, are you?” complained Charlie.

  “I've got work to do,” said Mallory without slowing down. “Besides, your boss wants you in the atrium.”

  The little elf's face brightened noticeably. “He does?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “What for?” asked Charlie. “I'll bet it's a promotion.”

  “He says Carmelita is hungry,” said Mallory, starting across the bridge.

  He looked back when he and Felina and reached the other side. Charlie was rooted to the spot, and was shaking so noticeably that Mallory could see it in the moonlight from eighty feet away.

  CHAPTER 3

  6:37 PM–7:03 PM

  “How did it go?” asked Winnifred as Mallory and Felina entered the office.

  “He drives me crazy,” complained the detective. “He could pinpoint the thief and the damned dragon in twenty seconds if he wanted to.”

  “He didn't steal Fluffy himself?”

  Mallory shook his head. “He wants us to find her.” He grimaced. “He's a sportsman. He wants the world to know his chimera is the better specimen.”

  “Then why—?”

  “Who the hell knows?” muttered Mallory. “For a being who revels in being Evil Incarnate, that son of a bitch has more ethical baggage than a professor of philosophy.”

  “You're sure he wasn't responsible for this?” persisted Winnifred.

  “I'm sure,” said Mallory. “He's a lot of things good and bad, mostly bad—but he's not a liar.”

  “All right,” she said. “There's been no message from Brody, no demand for ransom.”

  “Did his kennel manager show up or contact you?”

  “No,” replied Winnifred. “I suppose our next step is to inspect the premises and see if the thief left any clues.”

  “Your next step is to feed the office cat,” said Felina.

  “What about the hot dog I bought you at Greasy Gus's on the way back?” asked Mallory.

  “That was then, this is now,” said Felina.

  “Then was about two minutes ago,” noted the detective.

  “That long?” said Felina, emitting a small, ladylike burp. “No wonder I'm starving!”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” said Winnifred.

  The door slowly opened to reveal an undernourished green-skinned gremlin. “Mr. Mallory?” he asked hesitantly. “And Colonel Carruthers?”

  “Yes,” said Winnifred. “And you are?”

  “Jeeves,” said the gremlin.

  “We didn't order a butler,” said Mallory.

  “You misunderstand,” said Jeeves.

  “It's possible,” agreed Mallory. “I do that a lot these days. Why don't you enlighten me?”

  “I am Fluffy's personal kennel attendant,” said the gremlin. “I work for Mr. Brody.”

  “That's right,” said Winnifred. “He did mention that he'd be sending you over. I thought you were the manager, though.”

  “I was, until Fluffy was stolen,” said Jeeves. “I am at your service. Anything you need
to know about dragons in general or Fluffy in particular, all you have to do is ask. My orders,” he added apologetically, “are to stay with you until the case is solved and Fluffy has been found.”

  “Have you eaten?” asked Felina. “Maybe we should all go out for a meal and discuss strategy.”

  “Who can think of food at a time like this?” replied the gremlin.

  Felina promptly turned her back and busied herself licking a perfectly clean forearm.

  “What can I help you with first?” asked Jeeves. “Her diet? Her personal habits? Her endearing little quirks?”

  “I think the first thing we need to do is inspect the crime scene, so to speak,” said Winnifred.

  “Whatever you say,” said Jeeves. “Follow me, please.”

  Mallory turned to Felina. “Come on.”

  “I'm busy ignoring all of you,” she replied.

  “Ignore us later. Right now I need you to tell me if you can identify any scents at Brody's hotel.”

  “Oh, all right,” she said, walking to the door. “I'm especially good on filet mignon medium rare, pheasant under glass, and lobster thermidor.”

  “I'm sure you are,” said Mallory, “but I think there's very little likelihood that Fluffy was kidnapped by a lobster or a pheasant.”

  “Be quiet, John Justin,” said the cat-girl. “I don't smell as well when I'm depressed.”

  “Don't feed me straight lines like that,” said Mallory, following Winnifred and Felina out the door.

  The four of them began walking to the Plantagenet Arms. After they'd gone three blocks, a goblin stepped out from between two buildings, blocking their way.

  “Happy Valentine's Day!” he said, throwing a handful of confetti into the air. “Huzzah!”

  “What are you selling?” asked Mallory wearily.

  “Selling?” repeated the goblin. “I'm not selling. I'm celebrating.”

  “Fine. Happy Valentine's Day. Now please move out of the way.”

  “You can celebrate too, friend,” continued the goblin. “Don't you want to give a heart-shaped gift to one of these two lovely ladies, or perhaps both of them if you're planning on losing the ugly little green wart during the night?”

  “Go away,” said Mallory.

  “Just listen a minute!” said the goblin. “This is a legitimate business proposition. We can eliminate the middleman! I have in my possession not merely heart-shaped cards and gifts, but actual hearts. In fact, for the next three minutes I'm running a special on one that belonged to a little old lady who only got excited when praising the Lord in church on Sunday mornings.”

  “Felina,” said Mallory. “If he's still talking in twenty seconds, he's all yours.”

  “How about Phar Cry, the greatest racehorse in the world?” said the goblin. “My friend Iggy is the night watchman at Jamaica. We could go over there and pick it up right now, if you don't mind a little blood and suffering.”

  “Okay,” said Mallory to Felina. “Kill him.”

  “Hey,” said the goblin, backing away. “I'm just doing my job. Have a heart.” Suddenly he smiled. “Hey, that's a great line! Have a heart!”

  He turned and raced off down an alley, screaming “Have a heart!” Felina tried to follow him, but Mallory grabbed her wrist.

  “Stay with us,” he said. “It's a depressing thought, but we might need you.”

  They continued their journey to the Plantagenet Arms. Along the way they passed a seemingly endless string of posters, some for the upcoming fight between Kid Testosterone and Brutus the Butcher, some for the new musical My Fair Ladle (A Girl I Used to Spoon With), and quite a few advertising the Eastminster show. Carmelita, the defending champion, was prominently displayed in most of the Eastminster posters. Felina got too close to one of them, and suddenly Carmelita's image turned and snarled, and a flame shot out of her nostrils, barely missing the cat-girl. Felina hissed and displayed her claws, but the chimera was back in her original pose.

  “Her day is past,” said Jeeves contemptuously as he stared at the image. “She doesn't belong in the same ring with Fluffy.”

  “I wouldn't get into the ring with either of them unless I was up to date on my fire insurance,” said Mallory.

  “This is not a laughing matter, Mr. Mallory,” said Jeeves. “Fluffy is the end result of thirty-seven generations of carefully planned breeding.”

  “It's my nature to be sardonic,” replied Mallory. “I'm the result of even more generations of totally unplanned breeding.”

  The gremlin glared at him for a moment, then turned and continued walking. A few minutes later they reached the Plantagenet Arms, and passed through the lobby until they came to a huge bank of elevators. Jeeves walked past the first eleven and stopped in front of one labeled Express.

  The four of them entered, and the elevator shot up to the fifty-fourth floor penthouse, where the doors slid open and they stepped out into the large living room of Brody's suite.

  “Nice,” commented Mallory, surveying the leather chairs and couches, a suit of armor, and half a dozen large gilt-framed prints, each of which showed British monarchs doing kingly things.

  “Nice?” said Brody, walking in from another room. “Do you know what this place costs per day?”

  “Probably about six years’ rent on my office,” answered Mallory.

  “I doubt it,” said Brody. “You're not in a high-rent district.”

  “I stand corrected. By the way, this is my partner, Colonel Winnifred Carruthers. Winnifred, this is our client, Buffalo Bill Brody.”

  Winnifred stepped forward and shook Brody's hand vigorously. “Pleased to meet you,” she said.

  “Can you show us exactly where you kept Fluffy?”

  “She had run of the place when Jeeves or I were here,” said Brody, “but he was out inspecting the grooming area over at Madison Round Garden and I was having lunch in the restaurant downstairs, so she was confined to her pen.”

  “May we see it, please?” asked Winnifred.

  He nodded. “In the bedroom here,” he said, turning and reentering the room he had come out of.

  Mallory walked into the bedroom and uttered a low whistle. “I've seen smaller basketball courts,” he remarked.

  “Right there,” said Brody, pointing to an enclosure that was perhaps four feet on a side.

  “Asbestos?” asked Winnifred.

  “Of course,” replied Brody.

  “There's no top,” said Mallory. “What stopped her from jumping out—or flying out, for that matter?”

  “She can only fly for perhaps ten or twelve feet, no more,” said Jeeves. “And what stopped her is that her food was in the pen.”

  “Smart dragon,” commented Felina approvingly.

  “As for jumping,” continued the gremlin, “dragons are not known for their jumping ability.”

  “The top of the enclosure is perhaps thirty inches,” noted Winnifred. “Almost anyone could have reached over and picked her up.”

  Mallory turned to Jeeves. “Would she let a stranger do that?”

  “Yes,” said Jeeves. “She is a show dragon.”

  “Okay, she's a show dragon. So what?”

  “You don't understand,” continued the gremlin. “From earliest infancy she has been taught to accept being handled by anyone who approaches her, since one of them may be the judge, and you can't have a show dragon shrink away from being examined. It displays cowardice, and that counts heavily against a dragon in competition.”

  “So she'd follow anyone who took her out of her pen?” continued Mallory.

  “She wouldn't necessarily follow them, but she would certainly allow herself to be carried,” said Jeeves. “After all, we carry her from the grooming area to the ring so that her feet don't get dirty and no one inadvertently steps on her, so she's quite used to it.”

  “Felina?” said Mallory. “Go over to the pen and tell me what scents you can pick up.”

  The cat-girl approached the asbestos enclosure and inhaled deeply
.

  “I smell him”—she indicated Jeeves—“and him”—Brody—“and two tarantulas, and a dragon.”

  “Nothing else?”

  She shook her head.

  “You're sure?”

  She sniffed again.

  “Just the alligator,” she said.

  “What alligator?”

  “The dead one.”

  Mallory frowned. “You say there was a dead alligator here?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Absolutely. Positively. For sure. I think.”

  “Are you seriously trying to tell me Fluffy was kidnapped by a dead alligator?” demanded Mallory.

  “No.”

  “No, she wasn't kidnapped by a dead alligator?”

  “No, I wasn't seriously trying to tell you,” answered Felina.

  “You're driving me crazy,” said Mallory. “Was she or wasn't she?”

  “Excuse me, John Justin,” said Winnifred. “May I try?”

  “Please do,” said Mallory.

  “Felina, was this a freshly killed alligator?”

  The cat-girl shook her head.

  “If it was a whole dead alligator, or merely a pair of alligator shoes, could you tell the difference?”

  “Not without seeing it,” answered Felina.

  Winnifred turned to Mallory. “There you are, John Justin. The thief was wearing alligator shoes.”

  “Maybe,” said Felina. “He could have been wearing alligator underwear or alligator earmuffs.”

  “We'll take that under advisement,” said Mallory. He turned to Brody and Jeeves. “What do dragons eat?”

  “Oh, any number of things,” said Jeeves. “Fish, birds, knights…”

  “Tarantulas?” asked Winnifred.

  “They were her friends!” said the gremlin, outraged.

  “So where are they?”

  “When it was clear she'd been stolen, I ate them,” said Jeeves.

  “Fluffy doesn't eat any of those things,” added Brody. “She's my favorite, and I spoil her terribly. Her diet consists exclusively of chocolate marshmallow cookies.”

  “Very special ones,” added Jeeves.

  “Special how?” asked Mallory.

  “They had to be shaped like little elephants.”

  “You're kidding, right?”