The Unicorn Agenda

The Unicorn Agenda (6)

W. L. Culbertson

After a much better lunch than I'd planned, I went back to my post in the car. I did more emails and other bookkeeping, all chores that made the time just fly by. The BMW gleamed right where Samantha had left it.

I checked in with Bart. He said he'd made contact with Kurse and would have something in a day or two.

Since the Floraison spa offered its customers fine dining while in the throes of the beautification process, the length of her stay didn't surprise me. By two-thirty, I decided there was no longer time for her to have an illicit assignation and still make the fund raising dinner the couple had scheduled for five o'clock.

I laid my tablet aside and reached for the keys. Before I could start the car, a belch from the back seat startled me. I snapped a look back over my shoulder.

A gnome sat in my backseat.

"'Scuse me," he said.

"What the hell . . ."

"I said I was sorry."

He covered his mouth for an additional small burp then frowned. "You anthros aren't supposed to notice us anyway."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "Sort of like trying to see your backside in a mirror." He smiled and added, "I guess that means they're the lucky ones."

"But why do I see you, and they don't?"

"You're unlucky?"

That was less than informative, so I tried another tack. "What are you doing in my car?"

"Watchin'."

"What are you watching?"

"You." He yawned broadly. "Got to say, you sure don't do much. I'm Gary, by the way."

"Gary?"

"It's short for Garhezeigenbusch. It's an old family name."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Garhezeigenbusch is too long to say."

"No." I made a face and waved away his answer. "Why are you watching me?"

"Mel told me to."

I'd sort of adjusted to actually talking with one of the beings I'd been half afraid were figments of my imagination, but we'd just rounded a sudden conversational curve. "Who's Mel, and why is he interested in me?"

"His real name is Melocartazenilis. You wouldn't know him, seeing as how he's a unicorn."

He stood up and frowned, putting his hands on his hips. "Mel says that Alexander Stuyvesant hired you. He wants to know why."

"Why would a unicorn care what Alexander Stuyvesant does?"

"Long story," he said. "It has to do with some property out west that Stuyvesant's wife owns. It's the only unicorn breeding ground on this continent, and Alexander wants to drill for oil or somethin' there." He shrugged. "You might say the details are above my pay grade. You really don't want to ask a unicorn too many questions. Especially not when the questions concern personal business like their . . ." He chuckled. ". . . breeding."

Maybe unicorns didn't like to be questioned, but since I had the gnome talking, I circled back to a question that had been on my mind for a long time. "So why is it that I can see you and nobody else can?"

"Not nobody, but there aren't too many of you sensitives around. I guess you're just born that way." He crooked a wry smile. "I guess those of you who can see us learn pretty early to keep their mouths shut."