HarperVoyager
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First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2016
Copyright © Richard Kadrey 2016
Cover designed by Crush Creative (www.crushed.co.uk)
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016
Richard Kadrey asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008121037
Ebook Edition © June 2016 ISBN: 9780008121044
Version: 2016-06-03
Thanks to my agent, Ginger Clark, and my editor, David Pomerico. Thanks also to Pamela Spengler-Jaffe, Jennifer Brehl, Rebecca Lucash, Kelly OâConnor, Caroline Perny, Shawn Nicholls, Dana Trombley, Jessie Edwards, and the rest of the team at Harper Voyager. Thanks also to Jonathan Lyons, Sarah Perillo, and Holly Frederick. Big thanks to Martha and Lorenzo in L.A. and Diana Gill in New York. As always, thanks to Nicola for everything else.
THOMAS ABBOT IS talking about the end of the world, but I canât keep my eyes open. The inside of my head is all Disney dancing hippos and gators going at each other with knives like candy-colored Droogs.
Ever notice how the more pain youâre in, the funnier the world gets? Sometimes itâs peculiar funny. Sometimes itâs âha haâ funny, but itâs always funny. I remember almost bleeding to death in Hellion arenas and all I could do was laugh. I understand if that seems a little strange. Thatâs what I mean about peculiar funny versus ha-ha funny. Itâs all a matter of perspective. The more totally fucked you are, the funnier everything gets. Right now the world is hilarious.
What was I talking about? Right. Abbot. The end of the world. At least, I think itâs the end of the world heâs going on about. Maybe someone just keyed his Ferrari. Whatever it is, Iâm not listening. Itâs not that Iâm bored. Iâm tired, my head aches, and my eyes hurt like someoneâs tunneling out with dynamite. Itâs been a month since Iâve slept right. At night, my dreams keep me awake. Awake, the daylight feels like someone scouring my skin off with steel wool. I laugh once and everybody looks at me because theyâre not in on the joke. Iâm squinting at the light too hard to explain it to them.
âYou have something to add, Stark?â says Abbot.
âNot a thing. Iâm hanging on every word. But I might have missed some of the last part.â
âI was saying the meeting was over. Weâve voted on everything on the agenda. I had to put you down as an abstention on, well, everything since you didnât feel like joining in.â
The other ten members of the Sub Rosa councilâthe den of thieves, high rollers, and important families that run most of our little worldâstare or shake their heads in my direction.
âI was with you in spirit, boss.â
âThatâs what makes it all worthwhile.â
He turns from me and back to the room. People are getting up, gathering briefcases, purses, and jackets. You could feed every refugee in Europe with what these people have in their pockets.
âThank you all for coming. It was a good meeting. Iâll see you next week,â says Abbot.
Good-byes to Abbot and general chitchat in the room. Itâs like my brain is an open sore and their voices are salt. I donât ever remember feeling this way, even Downtown.
âHang around for a few minutes, Stark.â
I nod to Abbot. With my head like this, I wasnât planning on going anywhere soon anyway.
When everyone leaves, Abbot comes over and sits down next to me. Heâs a handsome fucker and thatâs always bugged me. All-American boyish looks with all the power of the Sub Rosa at his disposal. Weâre on his houseboat in Marina del Rey. The meeting room is trimmed in gold and exotic woods. Thereâs enough video monitors and other electronic gear along the back wall to launch a nuclear war. Abbotâs floating pad is like a comic-book supervillainâs orbiting death lair. Yet I kind of like the prick. He seems honest. He gave me a seat on the Sub Rosa council. And he hasnât thrown me out for doing a lousy job. But I canât help wondering if Iâm about to get a Dear John letter.