Free Away Games: Science Fiction Sports Stories by Mike Resnick

frowning. “Well, let me state for the record that all three of them told me they were eighteen, and I don’t know where the dead chicken came from. I was just an innocent bystander.”
    “Can we talk about elephants, sir?”
    Khan wrinkled his nose. “Disgusting, foul-smelling animals.” He stared distastefully at Felina. “Almost as annoying as cat people.” Felina sniffed once and made a production of turning her back to him. “The smartest elephant I ever owned didn’t have the intelligence of a potted plant.”
    “Then why do you own them?”
    “My good man, everyone knows that Gengis F. X. Khan is a sportsman .” The hint of a smile crossed his thick lips. “Besides, if I didn’t spend all this money on elephants, I’d just have to give it to the government.”
    “Makes sense to me,” agreed Mallory.
    “Is that all you wanted to know?”
    “As a matter of fact, it isn’t,” said Mallory. “I’m not a reporter, sir; I’m a detective—and I’d like to know a little bit about Ahmed of Marsabit.”
    “Hah!” said Khan. “You’re working for the Grundy, aren’t you?”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “He finally sells a good one by mistake, and now he’s trying to prove that I cheated him out of it!”
    “He hasn’t made any accusations.”
    “He doesn’t have to. I know the way his mind works.” Khan glared at Mallory. “The only thing you have to know about Ahmed is that I’m going to win the Quatermaine Cup with him!”
    “I understand that he was a pretty mediocre runner before you bought him.”
    “Mediocre is an understatement.”
    “You must have a very good eye for an elephant,” suggested Mallory, “to be able to spot his potential.”
    “To tell you the absolute truth, I wouldn’t know one from another,” replied Khan. “Though Ahmed does stand out like a sore thumb around the barn.”
    “If you can’t tell one from another, how can he stand out?”
    “His color.”
    “His color?” repeated Mallory, puzzled.
    “Didn’t you know? One of the restrictions on the Quatermaine Cup is that pink is the only permitted color.”
    “Ahmed is a pink elephant?”
    “Certainly.”
    Mallory shrugged. “Well, I’ve heard of white elephants in a somewhat different context … so why not pink?”
    “They make the best racers,” added Khan.
    “Let me ask you a question,” said Mallory. “If you don’t know one elephant from another, and you don’t trust the Grundy to begin with, why did you buy Ahmed?”
    “I needed the tax write-off.”
    “You mean you purposely bought an elephant you thought couldn’t run worth a damn?”
    Khan nodded. “And if it wasn’t for the fun I’m going to have beating the Grundy’s entry in the Cup, I’d be very annoyed with him. If Ahmed wins this weekend, I may actually have to dip into capital to pay my taxes.”
    “Aren’t you afraid the Grundy might be a little upset with you if Ahmed beats his elephant?” asked Mallory.
    “I’ve done nothing wrong,” said Khan confidently. “The pure of heart have nothing to fear from demons.”
    “That’s not the way I heard it.”
    “It’s not the way I heard it either,” admitted Khan. “But I’ve also written off a two million dollar donation to my local church, and if that doesn’t buy me a little holy protection, I’m going to have some very harsh words to say to God’s attorneys.” He paused. “Perhaps you’d like to take a look at Ahmed now?”
    “Very much,” responded Mallory. He turned to Felina. “You wait here.”
    Felina purred and grinned.
    “I mean it,” said Mallory. “I don’t want you to move from this spot. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”
    “Yes, John Justin,” she promised.
    “Come along,” said Khan, as he began walking back to the barn. When they arrived Khan whistled, and a number of trunks suddenly protruded from the darkened stalls, each one begging for peanuts or some other tidbit. One of the trunks was pink, and Mallory walked over to