“Is it . . .”
“. . . now? If you’re not telling . . .”
“. . . us the truth, we will be seeing . . .”
“. . . you even before Mr. Cooper.”
“We don’t like . . .”
“. . . being deceived,” said Night.
“I understand completely. Just go inside. It’s in an ornately carved wooden box, just a few feet from the door.”
“Shall I or . . .” said Knight.
“. . . shall I?”
“Why don’t you both go? One can hold the flashlight and the other can get the book.”
“A reasonable . . .”
“. . . solution.”
“We will . . .”
“. . . do it.”
“Thank you,” said Nelson. “And please stop talking. You’re giving me a stroke with the schizo act.”
“What . . .”
“. . . schizo . . .”
“. . . act?”
Nelson put a finger in the air. “I almost forgot something. I had to go back to my office for it.”
“What is . . .” said Night.
“. . . it?” said Knight.
“A neutron flare. It’s like a big firecracker. You might want to cover your ears.”
Nelson tossed the flare into the ECIU, then ran back with his fingers in his ears. A moment later, there was an explosion in the office. Dust and debris blew out into the corridor. Nelson and the Auditors coughed, waiting for the air to clear.
“Why was that . . .” said Night.
“. . . necessary?” said Knight.
“It’s a storeroom in there and some dangerous animals got loose. A neutron flare kills living things, but leaves everything else intact. You should be perfectly safe when you go in.”
Night and Knight looked at each other.
“You’re sure . . .”
“. . . it’s safe?”
“I’d go in myself if I could.”
“When this is over, I think . . .”
“. . . we will request . . .”
“. . . your presence for a . . .”
“. . . session in our office.”
“I’ll be there with bells on, if you’ll just get the fucking book.”
Nelson handed Night a small flashlight and the Auditors went into ECIU. They were only in the office for a minute or so when Nelson heard them say, “Here . . .”
“. . . it is.”
“Great,” Nelson said. “Now bring it to me and I’ll show you how we’re going to get Coop.”
Night and Knight came out into the corridor, dusting themselves off. Night, or maybe it was Knight, coughed.
“Give me the book so I can show you,” said Nelson.
The noncoughing Auditor handed Nelson the box containing the Mortuis.
“Now, Mr. Nelson. Show us . . .”
“. . . what you . . .”
“. . . promised. How will the book . . .”
“. . . deliver Mr. Cooper to us?”
“It won’t deliver him to you,” said Nelson. “I lied about that part.”
He took the pistol he’d found earlier and shot Night and Knight in the head.
Nelson set the book down and wiped his prints off the gun. “The pistol is what’s going to get Coop. I just add his prints to this little baby and it’s the mail room for Mr. Smarty-Pants.”
Nelson put the gun back in his pocket and got the book.
“It’s nice to know that a couple of guys whose only other career option was biting the heads off chickens could find government work.”
He stepped over their bodies.
“Makes me proud to be an American.”
Nelson was planning to spend the night studying the Mysteriis Ex Mortuis. However, when he made a detour through the garage, he found, to his delight, Coop, Giselle, and Morty hosing out a DOPS transport truck.
“Hi, Coop. What are you up to?”
“Hi, Nelson,” said Coop. “You know. We’re just cleaning elephant shit out of a truck.”
“That sounds like fun. Hey, do you know what this is?” Nelson held up the box.
Coop squinted. “A very tiny hope chest? You’re getting married. Congratulations.”
Nelson looked at the box. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. I should have opened it first. But it’s what’s inside that’s important. It’s a book. A very special book.”
Coop turned off the hose. “Clearly you want me guess what book, but I’m too tired, so, please, tell me what book.”
“Mysteriis Ex Mortuis.”
“What the hell is that?”
Nelson’s shoulders slumped. “Seriously? You have no idea?”
“Sorry.”
Nelson looked at Giselle and Morty. “Guys? You’re intelligent people. Tell him.”
Giselle shook her head. “Can’t help you.”
“I never heard of it either,” said Morty.
Nelson rubbed his chin. “No wonder China is beating us at everything. The Mysteriis Ex Mortuis is the spell book to end all spell books. The darkest, nastiest, most fucked-up magic you can imagine is all in this book.”
“Great,” said Coop. “Speaking for the group, we hope you and the missus are very happy together.” He turned on the hose and began spraying the back of the truck again.
Nelson held up his hands in a football time-out. Coop turned off the hose.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” said Nelson. “I’m going to use it. Those idiot mummies gave me the idea. They had their little cookbook with the resurrection spells. My beloved this and my beloved that. What a crock. I’m going to do what they should have done. What all the magic creeps around here are too chicken to do.”
“Talk my ear off?” said Coop.
“Waste my air?” said Morty.
“Make me get pruny hands?” said Giselle, holding up her wet, pruny hands.
Nelson looked around in frustration, then back at Coop. “Now that I have the real, ultimate magic, the Necro-fucking-nomicon, I’m going to use the magic on myself and become a god.”
“Okay. Well, call us when you’re done. We’re almost finished cleaning the truck.”
“I’m not done yet, Cooper. You’re going to listen to me.”
“What? It’s late and I promised Giselle Thai food.”
“It’s true,” she said.
“They said I could come along,” said Morty.
Nelson came closer to the truck and pointed to each of them in turn. “Once I make myself a god, I’m going kill you. All of you. I’m going to kill you. And I’m going to kill you. And, Coop, Mr. Cooper, I’m going to kill the ever-loving hell out of you.”
“No, you’re not,” said Coop. “You’re the kind of guy that still has a VCR and it’s been blinking 12:00 all day and night since 1979. Now please. Seriously. We need to finish this before Woolrich gets here.”
Nelson tore off the top the box and threw it away with a dramatic flourish. He flipped pages in the Mortuis, desperate to show these idiots something they could really understand. Something that would make them soil themselves and collapse like little kids screaming for their mommies.
“Aha!” he said. “‘To inhabitate Astarogothor, whose body is of the unbreakable stone that set all matter in motion at the beginning of time. He is eternal. Unstoppable. Invincible.’”
“Did you say a rock?” said Coop. “You want to turn yourself into a rock?”
“Not just a rock. He’s the rock. The primordial rock,” said Nelson. “You need dust and rocks to make planets and stars.” He stopped and put a hand behind his head. “Oh, man, I wonder if I can get enough stuff to orbit around me that I become a star. How about that, Coop? I won’t be a rock forever. In a few million years, I might be bigger than the sun.”
Coop hopped down from the truck and turned off the hose. “Like I said, I’m very happy for you. We all are. But guess what? The truck is finished and we’re going home. I suggest you do the same.” He looked Nelson over. “Is tha
t dust all over you? Woolrich is going to be here any minute and you look like hell.”
“I won’t for long,” said Nelson excitedly. “In a few minutes, I’m going to be on my way to godhood.”
Coop looked at his watch. “Okay, we’ll go along with your little prank. You’ve got three minutes to show us you’re serious.”
“Oh, I’m serious.”
Nelson looked at the Mysteriis Ex Mortuis and began to recite a language that sounded like someone trying to plunger out a toilet full of creamed corn.
Slowly, as he recited, Nelson’s skin darkened and hardened. His hair fell out and was replaced with a skullcap of gray stone. He grew as he spoke and soon his head almost touched the roof of the garage.
Coop applauded. “Very nice, Nelson. While you’re getting stoned, listen to this.” He said a word that was just as odd as the one’s in Nelson’s recitation, only Coop’s word sounded like someone dropping underripe watermelons down a spiral staircase.
Nelson’s stony body continued to grow, but even faster. His body distorted. His left side expanded to almost twice the side of his right.
“Oh, shit,” he said. “What is this?”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I did it wrong,” said Coop. “Let me try it again.” He repeated the watermelon word several times.
Nelson grew ever faster. When his head smashed into the top of the garage, he began to spread outward.
“What’s happening to me?” he yelled.
“You wanted to be a rock. I’m just trying to help.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what? Saying this?” Coop repeated the word a few more times.
“I have to stop,” said Nelson. “Where’s the counterspell?”
“They’re usually at the back.” said Morty.
Giselle slapped his arm. “Don’t help him.”
“Sorry.”
“Oh, shit,” whispered Nelson. “Oh no.” He held the book out in front of him. He’d managed to flip all the way to the back with this thick, clumsy stone fingers, but there was nothing there. Several red-eyed mice popped up their heads.
“They’ve eaten it,” he said.
“Tough break, old man,” said Coop. He repeated the watermelon word one more time.
Nelson dropped the box. The remnants of the book fell out, and the mice scattered. Coop went to the mound of dark stone that use to be Nelson and put out a hand tentatively. He knocked on the rock.
“Hello? Nelson? Are you in there?”
Nelson didn’t answer.
Coop turned around. “Who wants Thai? I’m buying.”
Giselle came over and touched the rock. “What the hell did you just do?”
“Oh, that?” he said. “Just some super-awesome magic.”
“But you’re immune to magic. You don’t do magic,” said Morty. He came over and gave Nelson a kick. “Ow.”
“Don’t kick the rock, Morty. You’re going to hurt yourself,” said Giselle.
“I think I already did.”
“It wasn’t really magic I did,” said Coop. “I was a kind of . . . a mystical cheering section. See, I read some of that cookbook I scanned. Didn’t understand a word of it, by the way. But at the back, it had a list what it called Elemental Promulgations. They’re not regular magic. They just kind of encourage magic along. I really didn’t understand most of that stuff either. But I managed to learn two words. One stops spells.”
“And the other speeds them up,” said Giselle. “Why did you decide to memorize them in the first place?”
“For something like this. I didn’t know if I could stop Nelson, so I did the other. If he hadn’t gotten all bent out of shape, his spell might have worked.”
“But he did, and it didn’t,” said Morty.
Coop put his arm around Giselle’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here. I’m hungry.”
“Cooper!” Someone yelled his name so loud that it echoed around the garage. “What hell have you been up to tonight? There’s a stolen library in the Valley, a museum and two cemeteries have been looted, and a car salesman has allegedly been crushed by a flying elephant,” said Woolrich. He was flanked by some of the other people Coop had seen in his office when they’d packed him into the garbage disposal.
“Coop just saved the world,” said Giselle.
“Twice in one day,” said Morty.
“The other time I just saved the DOPS.”
“No. Just now, too.” Morty hooked a thumb over his shoulder at Nelson.
“I guess you’re right.”
Woolrich went to the mound of stone. “Is this your doing, too? What is it?” he said.
“It’s Nelson.”
“From the mail room?”
“I don’t think he’ll fit there anymore. You might want to look for a replacement,” said Coop.
A man clanked out of the elevators. Half of his face and his arms were mismatched robot parts. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Mr. Nelson. I was supposed to go on vacation, but I couldn’t get the shredder started. Do you know where he is?”
“Who are you?” said Woolrich.
“I’m McCloud. I’m Mr. Nelson’s assistant.”
Woolrich pointed. “That’s what’s left of Nelson. Congratulations, McCloud. You’re head of the mail room.”
McCloud’s smile was blazing. “Oh, boy. Thanks, boss!”
“You three can go,” said Woolrich, pointing to Giselle, Morty, and McCloud. “I’ll deal with two of you in the morning. Cooper, come with me. You’re going to explain everything from the beginning. And no lies or omissions this time.”
“I’m right behind you.”
They walked to the elevator together. “And what was that crack on the phone about not trusting me?”
“You did use me as bait to get Harkhuf,” said Coop.
“I suppose.”
“And you promised me round-the-clock protection, which you didn’t do because it would have interfered with Harkhuf getting to me.”
“Yes. All right,” said Woolrich. “You’ve made your point. But understand, the Department of Peculiar Science is a harsh mistress. We’ve all been bait for something over the years. When I was a young agent, I had to jump from the top of the Hollywood sign just so that I could infiltrate a group of spirits selling DOPS secrets to the Russians.”
“Wait. So, you died?”
“Yes, Cooper. That’s generally how ghosts work.”
“But how are you here and not a mook?”
“Obviously, they cloned me a new body and uploaded the rest of me from a backup copy.”
“Obviously.”
“The point is that at the DOPS you frequently have to sacrifice a few eggs, and then sometimes a few more eggs, but in the end, you end up with a lovely flan.”
“I think I’d rather end up on your wall than be a government omelet,” said Coop.
“There’s plenty of opportunity for that, Cooper. I daresay you’re going to be with us for a very long time.”
42
Morty, Bayliss, Sally Gifford, and Dr. Lupinsky sat in Coop and Giselle’s living room, drinking bourbon while their Fatburgers sat on the kitchen table.
“Who should we invite to the party?” said Coop.
“Everybody,” said Giselle. “Everybody in the world. And they should bring their own food and booze. They owe us.”
“I’m not sure we could fit them all in here,” said Coop.
“You could have it at DOPS headquarters,” said Morty. “They have a really nice ballroom . . .”
“No,” said Giselle. “No. No. No. No. No.”
“I’ll ask for my deposit back, then.”
“Thanks again for all your help, doc. On the job and helping keep my head in one very sore piece,” said Coop.
Dr. Lupinsky’s cat sat very tall, with its tail wrapped around its feet, looking quite pleased with itself.
It was a pleasure. I hope I can help again in the future.
“I’m sure you will.”
“
Guess what, Coop? I’m thinking of taking a trip with my ill-gotten gains,” said Sally. “I applied for a passport and everything.”
“In your real name?”
“Yeah.”
“Brave girl,” said Giselle.
“Where are you going?”
“Italy. Milan. It’s where Caravaggio was born.”
“Caravaggio?” said Bayliss. “I love Caravaggio.”
“Yeah? I have a few over at my place,” said Sally. “Want to come over and see them sometime?”
“I’d love to.”
“All right. It’s a date.” She looked Bayliss over. “You didn’t go to Catholic school by any chance, did you?”
“How did you know?”
“Why don’t you come over on Saturday?”
“I’ll bring some wine.”
“Did you ever try grappa?”
“No,” said Bayliss.
“You’re going to love it.”
“You know who I feel bad for is those animal rights kids,” said Giselle. “I know they were a pest, but their hearts were in the right place. Now they’re going to have criminal records.”
“How?” said Morty. “We’re the ones who arrested them and we let them go.”
“You know. Some jerk at Carrwood who saw the elephant is going to report them to the real police.”
“And what are the cops going to do?” said Coop. “Where’s the missing elephant? There aren’t any missing from any zoos or circuses. There’s no way to trace it because it doesn’t exist. With no evidence and rich parents, those kids will maybe get a fine for messing up the rec center.”
“I heard you got spanked by your boss pretty hard,” said Sally. “How did that work out?”
“I’m suspended for two weeks again, so I’ll be watching a lot of movies and catching up with my day drinking. You ought to come over.”
“That’s my Coop,” said Giselle. “If he isn’t saving the world, he’s keeping the sofa warm for me when I get home from work.”
Coop held up a hand. “I might also read a book or two.”
Giselle gave his hand a squeeze. “Coop likes books. He just doesn’t like to admit it. You know. Prison tough-guy stuff.”
“That’s not true. Everybody read in prison. There wasn’t anything else to do half the time.”
“I thought you said there were fights over people reading.”