The Everything Box

by Richard Kadrey

  While almost no physical evidence of their civilization remains, the one thing the Lemurians did leave behind was a psychic imprint on the land, a ghostly desire to build the biggest, gaudiest mansions imaginable. This spirit haunts Laurel Canyon to this day. You won’t find a larger collection of wildly expensive and funny-looking houses outside of parts of Beverly Hills, which was settled by an even dumber ancient race that there isn’t time to go into right now.

  It took forty-five minutes of driving, backtracking, cursing, praying to nonexistent travel gods, dumb luck, and pure fury for Coop and Giselle to find the address the sharkskin suit had given them back in Jinx Town. When they found the place—a hulking mansion, part Spanish Revival with smaller Roman temples clinging to the sides, a fever-dream version of San Simeon—they pulled over onto the grassy shoulder of the road a quarter of a mile away and looked the place over.

  “Sure is big,” said Coop.

  “And ugly,” said Giselle.

  “At least Babylon has the biggest house around. That’s lucky.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “He doesn’t have to go outside and see how ridiculous it is.”

  Giselle took a set of binoculars from the glove compartment. They weren’t ordinary binoculars. They were more like goggles, with extra colored lenses that rotated in and out of place over the large lenses.

  “You look like a nearsighted fly,” said Coop.

  “You’re just jealous that I have all the good toys.”

  “I’m jealous you have toys at all. I miss my Vin Mariani.”

  “Lush.”

  “Coop.”

  Coop squinted at the hilltop monstrosity, but it was too far away to make out any details. “Did you get those from the DOPS or SkyMall?”

  “They’re what good little agents who work hard and don’t get coked up and start riots get.”

  “I wasn’t coked up. I was pleasantly focused. You going to give me a turn, or do I have to get on the roof with a magnifying glass?”

  “Relax. You’ll get your turn. I’m just trying to get the settings right.”

  “For what?”

  “Here. Take a look.”

  She handed the binoculars to Coop and when he put them to his eyes, Babylon’s mansion lit up like high noon. The buildings were a wild combination of pink, gold, and robin’s-egg blue, crisscrossed by bright beams of laserlike light. Coop lowered the binoculars and stared at the mansion. No funny colors. No harsh light beams. “You sure you have these things set right? The place looks like a My Little Pony rave.”

  Giselle took the binoculars back and said, “They’re just fine. The funny colors and light beams are all the enchantments and wards Babylon has protecting the place.”

  “Let me see those again,” said Coop. He put the binoculars to his eyes, carefully studying the exterior of the building. “The whole place is covered. There isn’t one clear spot anywhere.”

  Giselle nodded. “It’s going to be hard to get into.”

  “No. The White House is hard to get into. This is impossible. Unless Babylon is nuts and left a barn door open around back, this heist is over.”

  Giselle took the binoculars back. “Come on, Coop. Don’t be so negative. It’s the fuddy-duddy part of you talking again.”

  “It’s isn’t the fuddy-duddy part. It’s the alive part. Even if I can walk through the killing curses, some of those lights are going to trip regular traps. Guns. Blades. Dragons. Dragons with guns and blades. Count me out of that.”

  Giselle turned to him. “Salzman wasn’t kidding. He’ll send you back to jail.”

  “At least I’ll be a live con. This town has been trying to kill me ever since I got back. This job he wants me to do is going to be the one that nails the coffin shut.”

  Giselle set the binoculars in her lap. “And here I thought for a minute there was hope for you. You were brave for two seconds back at Jinx Town. Why can’t you do that now?”

  “I think your problem is that you’re confusing brave with stupid.”

  “No—I still think you’re stupid.”

  “Look, getting shot was a calculated risk. This,” he said, pointing to the mansion, “is suicide.”

  Giselle pushed the lenses back into place and put the binoculars into the glove compartment. “And here I was considering kissing you later. You blew that, and you’re going to go back to jail. This just isn’t your night.”

  “Wait. What did you just say?”

  “About what?”

  “Kissing me.”

  She pursed and unpursed her lips. “I can’t remember.”

  Coop wanted to say something more. He wanted to believe she meant it about kissing him, but it didn’t change the fact that she was still his boss. And she’d torn his heart out once. That was a sucker’s combo, and he was tired of being a sucker.

  “Look, I’m not trying to bolt or anything. It’s just that from what I’ve seen so far, getting through any of those doors is impossible. Maybe there’s a way in, but it’s going to take some time to find. How long will Salzman give me?”

  “A few days. A week maybe.”

  “That might not be long enough.”

  “You’re forgetting something. You work for the DOPS now. Back at headquarters, they’ll probably have all kinds of information about this place. And I’ll be there to help you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

  Coop was silent for a minute. “I don’t know.”

  “Just don’t make your mind up now. Give it a couple of days and see what the big brains come up with.”

  Cop shook his head wearily. He was already sick of the spy world. “Fine. But if I say no . . .”

  “No one wants you committing suicide.”

  He gave her a look.

  “Well, maybe Salzman, but he wants everybody dead.”

  “That’s a comfort.”

  “For now, let’s just play things by ear. Okay?”

  “Okay. For now,” he said. “I want a drink. Do you want a drink?”

  “Yes, but I have to get up early and write a report about what happened tonight.”

  “You going to rat me out about the Vin Mariani?”

  Giselle made an are-you-kidding-me face. “No way. It would be both of our asses.”

  “Speaking of which, let’s get back to that thing you said earlier about kissing me.”

  “Kissing you? That’s the first I’m hearing of it. You must be fantasizing about your vampire chippie back in Jinx Town.”

  “You’re just mad because she called you my mom.”

  “Why would that make me mad? You need a babysitter or you’d never find your head up your ass.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that us getting into the backseat is out of the question.”

  “In this life and the next.”

  “Too bad. I have some new moves you would have loved.”

  Giselle started the car. “You did a lot of making out in prison, did you?”

  “No. Yoga. It makes you limber. You’d be amazed at what I can put behind what these days.”

  Giselle looked at him and pulled back onto the road. “You never took a yoga class in your life.”

  Coop looked out the window at the mansion. “I guess now you’ll never know.”

  “Liar.”

  “Now who’s Mr. Chicken?”

  “That’s Ms. Chicken to you. Don’t forget I’m still your boss. You’ll do what I say.”

  “I can’t hear you. Maybe you should say that again with boots and a riding crop.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “Tonight at least.”

  Giselle gunned the engine and they drove back to Hollywood.

  Going down the hill was faster than going up. It only took thirty minutes to get to the Roosevelt Hotel.

  “Here we are,” Giselle said.

  “Here we are.”

  She hesitated. “Maybe I was a little hasty earlier. I could come in and help you pick out some things.”

&n
bsp; Coop looked out the window and shook his head. He’d turned it over in his head a dozen times on the way back to town and decided that the whole thing was just too weird to take in. “Not tonight. This is something I want to do on my own. You’re classy and everyone will know it. These snooty clotheshorses won’t want me in their shop, which is why I want to be there alone. Rub their noses in me getting some good stuff.”

  “I understand,” said Giselle. “Have a good time. I’ll see you at work tomorrow. I’ll send a car to pick you up at nine.”

  “I’m capable of driving myself.”

  “You don’t know where it is.”

  “I’ll be ready at nine.”

  “Good boy.”

  “Well, good night.”

  “Good night,” said Giselle.

  They sat there looking at each other for a minute. Coop felt thirteen again. He and Giselle leaned in and had a brief, awkward hug. He got out and waved to her through the window. She nodded to him and drove off.

  What the hell was I just thinking? I’m way off my game. She wanted to come in and I said no. Why did I do that? I have no game anymore. None. Even if I had game, it would be tic-tac-toe, a game only played by computers, crazy people, and chickens at state fairs.

  Coop took a breath and went into the Roosevelt Hotel, wondering how the hell he was going to explain any of this to Morty.

  Jerry parked a block back from the Roosevelt, keeping an eye on the Honda. Coop got out after a couple of minutes and went inside. Dammit. Jerry was too far away to catch up with Coop and see where he was going.

  Jerry watched the Honda pull back into traffic. At least the night wasn’t a total loss. Finding out where Coop’s girl lived was almost as good as finding him. He put the Prius in gear and followed her all the way home.

  TWENTY-SIX

  IT WAS A PERFECT LOS ANGELES MORNING IN THE PARKING lot by the Brown Star Organic Co-op stall in the Farmers Market. Bright, but not hot, and with a slight breeze. The market was bustling with customers from all over L.A. and the San Fernando Valley. Tourists crowded the stalls, looking for a late breakfast and local delicacies. Some of the more charitably minded stopped by the bake sale table of a new environmental group most of them weren’t quite sure they’d heard of.

  Marian White of Enid, Oklahoma, stood by the bake sale table and cocked her head. “‘Scourge the Earth.’ That’s an unusual name for an environmental group. Can you tell me about it?”

  Susie smiled at her. “We’re a fairly new group. Local mainly, but we hope to be going global soon.”

  “How nice. And what are you working on these days?”

  Tommy said, “Our ultimate goal is to poison the seas, scorch the land, and bring the end of days to all vile human life.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Save the trees,” said Susie. “We want to save the trees.”

  “And the baby seals,” said Janet from over her shoulder.

  “Oh, I love them,” said Marian.

  “Would you like to try a sample?” said Susie.

  Marian looked over the long spread of pies and cakes. “What’s that one?”

  “That’s a hate-in-a-blistering-inferno-of-agony bar.”

  “That’s an unusual name.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What flavor is it?” said Marian.

  “Lemon.”

  “Could I try one of those?”

  “Certainly.” Susie cut off a small piece of the bar and handed it to her on a paper napkin. “Here you go.”

  Marian popped it in her mouth and chewed. “It’s delicious. I’ll take two, please.”

  “Wonderful. Lord Caleximus will smile upon you and devour your soul quickly and mercifully. There will be little pain.”

  “Are you sure you’re an environmental group?”

  “Save the whales,” said Susie.

  “Of course,” said Marian. She narrowed her eyes. “It’s just that I get the feeling you have some other agenda, too.”

  “No nukes,” said Janet.

  Susie wiped her hands on her apron. “If you think we’re raising money to summon our unholy death god from a black well of eternal suffering to ravage mankind, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

  “Well, all right then. What’s that?” said Marian, pointing.

  “Carrot cake. With a frosting of cream cheese, chopped pecans, and bottomless horror.”

  Marian frowned. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that. Do you have anything with little to no horror? My daughter-in-law is trying to lose some weight.”

  Susie picked up a plate. “We have some gluten-free chocolate chip venomous rage Toll House cookies.”

  Marian shook a finger at Susie. “See, that’s why I think you might have another agenda.”

  “Butterscotch brownies. Do you like butterscotch?”

  “I’m not sure. May I try one?”

  Susie handed her a sliver of brownie. “I think you’ll like it.”

  Marian took a bite and nodded. “How much rage is in this one?”

  “Hardly any. And they’re on sale. Three for five dollars.”

  “Lovely. I’ll take three.”

  Susie used a spatula to scoop up the brownies and slip them into a paper bag. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you,” said Marian.

  “Have a nice day. Hail Caleximus.”

  “What was that?”

  “Save the whales.”

  “You said that earlier,” said Marian.

  “Don’t you like whales? Why do you hate whales?”

  “I don’t hate whales.”

  “Good, because we love them,” said Susie. “Their blubber will serve to light our lord’s way as he wipes clean all life and hope from the surface of this accursed world.”

  “Well, as long as the baby seals will be all right.”

  “The seals are fine. Everybody likes seals.”

  Marian took her brownies and put them in a Brown Star woven tote bag. “Thank you. Have a nice day. Good luck with the scourging.”

  “Thank you. Be sure to tell your friends. We’ll be here all weekend.”

  As Marian went back into the Farmers Market, Steve came over. He was wearing a white apron and a chef’s hat with DELICIOUS DESTRUCTION on it in a light green cursive font.

  “How are things going, hon?”

  “Just terrific. Making money hand over fist. Though, you know, that last woman, I don’t know if she believed we’re one of those tree-hugging groups.”

  “Just remember that we have deep concern for the environment. We want to destroy it. Burn it to ashes and salt the Earth with mortal tears. It might not be the kind of environmental plan Greenpeace has, but they’ll be screaming in boiling bile soon, so all we need to do is keep going until we can get back the summoning box.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. Anyway, she liked my lemon bars and the butterscotch brownies.”

  Steve put an arm around her. “You’re a terrific saleswoman.”

  “How are the others doing?” Susie asked.

  “Real well. I’m glad you talked me into having one last sale. We’re pulling in cash and everyone is having a good time.”

  “And isn’t that what Armageddon is all about?”

  “That’s the way I learned it,” said Steve. “Say, have you seen Caleximus’s silver blade? We want to cut up some accursed fudge bars and I thought it might be fun to make a little ceremony out of it.”

  “I think Jerry has it,” said Susie.

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “Talk to you later.”

  Steve walked over to where Jerry was putting a couple of virulently blighted blueberry scones into a plastic container for a little girl in a Smurfette T-shirt. The girl ran to her parents and waved at Jerry. He waved back as the family took their infernal pastries to one of the outdoor tables for a snack.

  “Hey, son,” said Steve. “Your mom said you might have Caleximus’s dagger.”

  Jerry rearranged the scones on his tray,
not looking at his father. “No. I haven’t seen it. Maybe Jorge has it.”

  Steve sighed. “Well, damn. I sent him for more paper plates. Oh well. We’ll just have to make do with a regular old kitchen knife.” Steve looked over his son’s shoulder at the almost empty scone tray. “Looks like you’re doing a good job there.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How are your ribs feeling?”

  “Just fine. Really good.”

  “Great. Okay. I have some fudge bars to get back to. Keep up the good work.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I will.”

  A plump man in sunglasses and a Mickey Mouse jean jacket walked over to where Susie was working. “Hi. Can you tell me what this is?”

  “It’s peach cobbler. My own recipe. Would you like to try a little?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Susie put a dollop on a napkin for him and gave him a plastic fork. He tasted it and smiled. “That’s terrific.”

  “Thank you. The special ingredient is love. And the burning desire to see all of humanity savaged by giant fire-breathing wasps. But mostly love.”

  The plump man threw the napkin in a nearby trash can and said, “I’ll take the whole thing.”

  Susie beamed at him. “Wonderful,” she said. “Would you like me to wrap that up for you?”

  The man picked up the cobbler and said, “No thanks. I’ll have it here.” He raised the dish over his head and smashed it down on the table. It exploded, sending peach cobbler in all directions and knocking other cakes and pies onto the ground.

  Behind the man, a van screeched to a stop. The side door slid open and a group of men and women in monster masks piled out.

  “Acolytes and adepts to work!” shouted the plump man.

  The crowd from the van attacked the tables, smashing pastries, throwing them at the Caleximus congregation and people browsing in the market. They overturned tables and smashed display cases. Jerry tried to grab one of them, but got an elbow in the ribs that sent him to the pavement in agony. Steve managed to get one of the attackers in a headlock, but two more jumped on him and pulled them apart. Another smeared whipped cream in his eyes and he tripped over Leonard, who was already on his back, trying to climb out of a slippery trail of jelly donuts. Janet threw a Bundt cake at one of the masked women. She ducked and hit Janet with a tray of macaroons.