“Shut up. That’s what she says. Morty stays,” said Coop firmly.

“If you say so,” Morty said. “I’ll be ready to go the moment you get back.”

“That’s what I want to hear. Phil, you ready to go to work?”

“Before we go, consider this: there’s probably an antique box down here with all this junk. Why don’t we just take it instead of hopping on the Haunted Mansion ride? What are they going to know at headquarters?”

“There’s no way I’m going to go back to jail because you got cold feet. Just stay alert and look for traps. We’ll be back double-quick time.”

“Hey, Morty,” said Phil. “If we croak here tonight, be sure to give Nelson a kick in the balls for me.”

“You got it.”

“And give Giselle a kiss. A big one. You know the kind I mean.”

“I’ll take a pass on that, Phil. Coop is the one on kissing terms with Giselle.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m not,” said Coop.

“You’re not? What the hell is wrong with you? You could die out there.”

“I know.”

“You’re an idiot,” said Morty.

“I know.”

“Good. Admitting you have a problem is the first step toward your recovery.”

“Coop, listen to the man,” said Phil. “You could catch a terminal case of dead. Let’s just stay here in the basement and not die together.”

But Coop climbed out of the Missile and Morty followed. He went up the stairs ahead of Coop until he reached the door. Then he gently laid his hand over the lock and closed his eyes. A moment later, there was a click and the door swung open a few inches.

“Good luck,” he said.

“Thanks,” said Coop.

“Avenge me, Morty,” said Phil. “If this ignoramus gets me killed, avenge me.”

Morty got back into the Missile. “Shut up, Phil.”

Coop entered Babylon’s mansion wearing the same skintight suit he’d worn during the Bellicose Manor job. It hid his body heat from any biodetectors. Around his waist, he wore his utility sack of tools, and for this job he’d brought along a small backpack stuffed with expensive DOPS gear, most of which he had no idea what to do with, but it seemed smart to take everything they offered. The overall effect made him look like a hunchbacked hobo scuba diver. He hoped there were no cameras around to snap his picture. If future clients ever saw how silly he looked on the job, it would definitely hurt his work prospects. Of course, worrying about future work felt ridiculously optimistic considering everything that lay between him and the box. Still, it was better to concentrate on not losing his life or any body parts unlikely to grow back than to obsess over the dangers lurking on his journey to the heart of Babylon’s fun house.