The Everything Box (21 page)

She held it up and light from across the mall threw a reflection onto her pale face. “Is this real silver?” she said.

“Yes. And full of dark power. It once belonged to our lord . . .”

“Yeah, yeah,” said the brown-haired girl. “It's not a George Foreman grill, so don't oversell it, pink boy.”

The redheaded girl nodded and handed the blade to a blond girl. “Not too shabby, Jerry. You just might live long enough to improve that credit rating. Now, why don't you scoot back home to Grandma's house before us big bad wolves eat you up for supper?”

He got up. “I will. Thanks. I'm going now.”

“Hit the bricks, loser,” said the brown-haired girl. “We still have to find dinner.”

Happy not to be turned into a flesh Popsicle, Jerry very slowly made his way through the crowd of little girls, trying not to turn his back on any of them and, realizing that was impossible, jerking his head from side to side trying to look at them all at once. That cracked the girls up. When he was clear of them, he ran for the escalator.

“Pussy!” shouted one. Fleeing, Jerry knew that he was in no position to argue the point.

Just as he passed a bar, a man and woman came running out. He wondered if they were running from another gang of moppets when he recognized one of them.

“Coop,” he whispered. “Coop.”

He took a few steps back and let the couple pass. They ran down the escalator, and after a moment's pause, Jerry went down after them. They slowed as they crossed the lobby, and so did Jerry. When they went out one of the side exits, he waited a few seconds and followed them. They were climbing a ladder when he came out. When they were out of sight, he went up after them, pushing open a trapdoor at the top of the ladder, where he was shocked to find himself on Hollywood Boulevard.

Coop and the woman were half a block ahead, heading east. Jerry got as close to them as he safely could and when they crossed Highland Avenue, he darted down the street, jumped into his mother's yellow Prius, and tore around the corner onto Hollywood Boulevard. Or, rather, gave chase as quickly as a Prius would allow. He followed the two of them, always keeping half a block behind, until they reached a darker section of the Boulevard. When Coop and the woman got into a Honda Civic and drove off, they headed the wrong way. So he held his breath, hoping there were no cops around, and pulled a fast U-turn.

Maybe Dad and the others won't believe me about Jinx Town, but they'll
have
to believe this.

LAUREL CANYON PERCHED DIRECTLY ABOVE LOS ANGE
LES,
one of the most expensive collections of winding hills and valleys in the country. Luckily, there were roads that twisted up and down the tortured ridges, or the only things that would have been there were hippies, backpackers, prairie dogs, and the occasional mountain lion dining on the aforementioned hippies, backpackers, and prairie dogs. Unfortunately, because of those roads and the billion-dollar real estate, the most common life-forms were douche bags, plastic surgeons, fading film producers, and labradoodles. Laurel Canyon had a long and colorful history, which is much too complex to go into here, except to say that it's long and colorful, and that what's in the history books was almost entirely wrong. The books go on about Indian tribes, the Spanish, the local wildlife, the local fauna, yet somehow leave out the inhabitants of Lemuria completely.

Lemuria was a large and ancient island nation in the Pacific, similar to Atlantis, but with better sushi and Wi-Fi. When Lemuria, also like Atlantis, sank (following a series of explosions from one particularly disastrous experiment aimed at using volcanoes to power Lemurialand, an amusement park that went bankrupt in a year because Lemurians were a dour people who left fun to those Atlantis
creeps), the survivors sailed to what would someday be called Los Angeles. Finding the flatlands boring, the Lemurians settled in the canyons, which were much more like their island home. Not a people to leave well enough alone, they immediately began terraforming the land to make it even more like Lemuria. Although they were a scientifically advanced civilization, they weren't big on seismology. After a few years of shifting hills, diverting underground rivers, and generally screwing around with the surface and substrata of the canyon, one afternoon they became intimately acquainted with a large fault line that cut straight through the canyon and swallowed the Lemurian survivors and most of their sprawling castles.

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.”

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.