The Everything Box (11 page)

AT NINE THIRTY-FIVE IN THE EVENING COOP SAID,
“Remember that getting the box isn't enough. We have to get it to the buyer before midnight.”

He and the crew were on Fifth Street, parked in a van provided for the occasion by Mr. Babylon. The Blackmoore Building was half a block north, between Figueroa and Flower Streets, with a picturesque view of the Bonaventure Hotel.

“You've reminded us of that like twenty times in the last hour,” said Sally.

All four of them were seated in the back of the van with their equipment—a bag of gear for Coop, plus a jar about the size of a coffee can. Small scrabbling sounds came from inside it, like an insect mosh pit. Tintin sat in the very rear of the van, as far from the jar as possible.

“Well, it's good to remember,” said Coop.

“Right,” said Morty. “But what happens if Fast Eddie doesn't make it in? I mean, what if he falls off the roof or something?”

Everyone looked at Coop. He picked up the jar and shook it. The scrabbling got louder. Morty nodded. Sally moved to the back of the van with Tintin.

“Any other questions?”

No one said anything. Tintin looked at his watch. “It's almost time.”

Coop opened the side of the van. He reached for the bag with his tools, but Sally grabbed it first. “I'll get this. You just make sure not to drop
that,
” she said, pointing to the jar.

Coop nodded. He and the others got out and walked the rest of the way to the Blackmoore Building, looking as inconspicuous as four people dressed in ninja black, carrying a bag full of semimystical tools and a mason jar full of little six-legged nightmares could.

Fast Eddie stood on the roof of the Ketchum Insurance Tower, just a few yards away from the roof of the Blackmoore Building. Eddie wore black jeans and a black T-shirt with an arrow pointing down and the words
BEER GOES HERE
above it. He was tall, with a beard and an impressive, some might say heroically sized, gut. The look suited him, though probably not in the way he intended. To most people, Eddie looked less like a thief and more like a grizzly bear trying to pass for human by wearing people clothes. It didn't get him a lot of dates, but it was great for maintaining discipline among his crew.

Harrison was the first across the zip line that led from the Ketchum's roof to the Blackmoore. Racer X went next. Eddie popped the clip on his 1911 Colt .45, checked that it was loaded, and slammed it back into place. Then he went down the zip. The steel line sagged under his weight, and the metal pitons that held it in place shook. But after a few seconds of semi–free fall, he touched down safe and sound. He checked his watch. It was nine fifty-nine. He nodded to the others. Racer X gently placed his hand on a locked door on the Blackmoore Building's roof and after a few seconds of waiting, it popped open. Inside, they pried open an elevator door and Harrison rigged more lines. With belay devices secured to their waist harnesses, they hooked onto the wires.

Fast Eddie reached into the pack Harrison wore on his back and took out two smaller packs. He wriggled his shoulders into one and handed the other to Racer X. “You understand how this works, right?” Eddie growled.

Racer X nodded. “Totally. I'm the new guy.”

“And what does the new guy do?”

“I carry the blasting caps and you carry the Semtex.”

“And what is your number-one job?”

“Not to blow my sorry ass up,” said Racer X.

“Because?”

“Because I'm a dime a dozen, but blasting caps are expensive.”

“Good boy,” said Eddie.

Harrison frowned, but didn't let Eddie see. He looked around the big man at his little brother. “Plus, you'd piss me off,” he said.

Racer X grinned. “Me, too,” he said.

“Good,” said Eddie and shoved the kid. He disappeared into the open elevator shaft. “You go first.”

All twelve of Caleximus's worshippers were crammed together like a cargo of sullen plush toys in the construction company's cargo van. Steve was at the wheel. He turned off Figueroa just before Fifth Street and parked at the Ketchum Insurance Tower's loading dock. Jorge checked his watch. “Ten oh five,” he said.

Steve craned his head around. No one was there. “Okay,” he said. “We're a little early, so it'll give everybody a chance to settle down. Lloyd should be out in fifteen minutes. Everybody know their job?”

The others nodded or murmured, “Yes.”

Steve turned around in the driver's seat. “Come tomorrow, those Abaddonian jackasses are going to shit themselves blind.”

People laughed. Tensely.

Tommy raised his hand.

“We're not in grade school, Tommy. Just say what you've got to say,” said Steve.

“Why do we all have to be here?” he said, wiggling his shoulders like he hoped a little more space might magically appear around him if he whined enough.

Steve said, “I told you why. I asked for volunteers and you all disappointed Caleximus. Therefore, I volunteered us all. Is that it?”

“No. I, uh, I've got to go to the bathroom.”

People groaned. Jerry elbowed him in the ribs. “You should have done it back at the site like the rest of us,” he said.

“I couldn't do it,” whined Tommy. “Those chemical toilets haven't been cleaned in like a century. It's like hovering my ass over a chocolate volcano. Who knows when it might go off?”

Steve looked at Jorge, who shook his head.

“Young man, you had your chance and you missed it,” said Steve. “So, now your chocolate volcano will remain dormant until after we're done. You understand? We're on a holy mission tonight. You don't think the Crusaders marching off to war stopped to shit, do you?”

“Actually, I read in a book that most of the first Crusaders had dysentery by the time they reached the Holy Land,” said Janet, Tommy's girlfriend. “They shit on their horses. They shit in their armor. They shit everywhere.”

“Thank you for sharing that tasteful bit of information,” said Steve. “With luck, we won't have to resort to anything quite so . . .”

“Baroque?” said Susie.

“Thank you, dear.”

“Damn, Tommy,” said Jerry. “You bought her a book about how people used to go to the bathroom? That's just nasty.”

“No. I bought her a book about history. She's the one who remembers the shit parts.”

“Fuck you, Tommy,” said Janet. “At least I can read.”

Jerry laughed. Tommy sulked. Janet slid away from Tommy and sat with her arms crossed.

“Settle down, you kids,” said Steve. “No bickering when we go in. Young Lloyd is nervous as a piglet dancing on a chain saw. He sees us arguing and he's likely to have his own chocolate volcano blow before we even get inside.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jerry. The others nodded.

They sat quietly, everyone concentrating on the dock's side door.

“Are people coming to the bake sale on Saturday?” said Susie.

“Are you making your apple pie?” said Jorge.

“You know I will.”

“I'll be there.”

“You're a dear,” Susie said.

“We'll all be there. Right?” said Steve. “One last sweet hurrah before the summoning.”

They waited in the shadow of a twenty-four-hour gym. At ten past ten, Coop said, “Sally. You on the job?”

“Just starting,” she said. Sally closed her eyes and let her mind go blank. Her shoulders relaxed until they hit that loose sweet spot and her eyes popped open again. “Done,” she said.

“No one can see us?” said Morty. “You sure?”

“God. You're worse than he is,” she said, nodding at Coop.

A homeless guy pushing a shopping cart loaded with trash bags came around the corner and walked down Fifth Street in their direction. When he got close to the group, Coop took a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket, wadded it up, and tossed it in front of the cart. The homeless man stopped and walked to where the bill had fallen. He stood over it for a minute and looked around. Satisfied he was alone, he picked it up, smoothing it with his thumbs. He stuffed the bill into the pocket of one of the many coats he was wearing and continued down Fifth.

“Okay?” said Sally.

“Okay,” said Morty.

They hurried across Flower Street and around the Blackmoore Building to the employee entrance.

Coop put his hand on Morty's shoulder. “You're up.”

Morty nodded and took a deep breath. He put one hand on the doorknob and the other over the key pad that controlled the lock. His eyes went blank for a few seconds. The pad beeped and the door clicked open. Morty let out the breath. Coop and Tintin clapped him on the back. They went inside and Coop checked the time. Ten fifteen.

“Let's head up to nine. No rush,” he said. They started up the stairs.

When Eddie and the others had rappelled down to the twelfth floor, Harrison used a pry bar to open the elevator door. He slid it halfway and looked around. No one was there. There wasn't even a cleaning cart in sight.

“We good?” said Eddie.

“Babylon was right. They finish the high floors early,” Harrison said.

“Good. Let's go in. This harness is squeezing my balls so high they're clogging my sinuses.”

Harrison and Racer X pushed the doors open the rest of the way. They climbed onto the twelfth floor and grabbed Eddie's arms. Bracing their legs against the wall, they hauled him in like a hairy marlin. That morning, Racer X had asked why, considering Fast Eddie's epic girth, they were climbing to the job instead of actually riding in the damned elevator.

Harrison rolled his eyes. “Two hundred pounds ago, Eddie was in the marines. He thinks he still is.”

“Shouldn't someone, maybe, say something to him?”

“Sure. Go ahead. You be the one who calls Eddie a lard-ass to his face.”

Racer X thought about it. “He doesn't seem like the kind of person to take constructive criticism well.”

“You'll learn all you need to know about Eddie's attitude by whether he puts you in the shaft head first or feet.”

“Maybe I'll wait till after the job to bring it up.”

“That's what I'd do. Or never. That's even better.”

“Yeah. The more I think about it the better never sounds.”

Once the brothers had grappled Eddie onto twelve, they lay back on the floor, sweating and breathing hard.

“You two girls having a spa day?” said Eddie.

Racer X was too tired and nervous to even contemplate giving him the finger.

By the time the brothers got on their feet, Eddie was already heading into one of the corner offices. As he watched Eddie enter the office Racer X stepped back.

“What about the alarms?” he said.

“The guy who arranged the heist had them turned off,” said Harrison.

Racer X nodded, growing less sure that any of this was a good idea. He didn't say anything to his brother, but what made him really nervous wasn't blowing the safe.

It was how they were supposed to get Eddie back up the elevator shaft.

Coop and the others made it to the ninth floor at ten twenty-five.

“This is the part of the job I hate,” whispered Morty. “The waiting.”

“I'll give you seventy-five thousand reasons why it's a good idea,” said Coop.

Morty shrugged. “When you put it that way . . .”

While they waited, Tintin took out a Snickers bar and bit into it. The others stared.

“I have a low-blood-sugar thing,” he said.

“Did you bring enough for the whole class?” said Sally.

Tintitn pulled more bars from his pants pocket. He handed one to Sally and one to Morty. When he offered one to Coop he just shook his head.

“I'm watching my figure,” Coop said.

Sally bit into her bar. “You could use a few more pounds on you, Coop. No woman is going to jump your bones when she thinks she's going to crack your ribs.”

“I'll take that under advisement,” he said. “I don't want candy. I want a cigarette.”

“That would be nice,” said Morty through a mouthful of Snickers. “What time is it?”

“Two minutes after the last time you asked.”

“I wonder how much longer we have to wait.”

“Finish your candy. I don't think it will be long.”

At ten thirty Lloyd came out of the side entrance by the loading dock. When he saw the van, he waved at it frantically, which made him look like a particularly inept seagull trying to get off the beach
before high tide. Steve and the others got out of the van and went around to the door, where Lloyd ushered them inside. Steve and Jorge were first out of the van, eager to get to work. The others unfolded themselves slowly and crawled out of the van, just happy that they could breathe again.

“Everyone is at dinner. Come with me and, please, please, please, be quiet,” said Lloyd.

Steve patted him on the back. “We appreciate everything you're doing. Now take a deep breath and let's go.”

Lloyd did as he was told. It didn't make him feel better. In fact, it made him feel light-headed. He swayed for a step as he led the others through the dock to the stairs. When they reached the elevators Lloyd looked at the overhead numbers.

In a minute, Steve said, “Are we waiting for something?”

“What?” said Lloyd.

“Aren't you going to push a button?”

Lloyd looked at him, then at the elevator. “Right. Sorry,” he said, and pushed 1 to bring the elevator down. He smiled tightly when the number lit up, thinking,
Please don't let them kill me and eat me when this is over. That's what cults do, right? Eat people they don't like?

Steve smiled at Lloyd like he was a puppy that had just learned to pee outside. He checked his watch. It was ten thirty-five.

Lloyd thought,
They can't eat me before this is over, so I still have a chance to run
. When he got a glimpse of Steve's smile, Lloyd was certain he was sizing him up for a barbecue. He hit the elevator button again, willing it to come down faster.