by Eoin Colfer
“What have you done, Artemis?”
Ah, thought Artemis. Suddenly you can pronounce my name.
“I have done nothing, Damon. I delivered the lemur, you lost him. The problems here are all yours.”
Kronski was livid; he tore off his glasses to reveal red-rimmed eyes. “You have tricked me, Fowl. Somehow you are a participant in this. I cannot host an Extinctionist conference without a strong opening. The execution of that lemur was my big ‘Hello, everyone.’”
Artemis’s phone beeped, and he glanced at the screen. A brief text from Butler.
Mission accomplished.
He pocketed the cell phone and smiled broadly at Kronski.
“A strong opening. I may be able to help you with that. For a price, naturally.”
Artemis the elder sat in the cham-pod watching events unfurling below. Everything had gone exactly to plan, with the exception of the dye vats, which actually exceeded Artemis’s expectations.
Butler’s view is completely blocked, he thought. And then he froze suddenly. Of course! I wouldn’t have placed Butler in that window at all. I would have put a decoy there, as it is one of the five logical places for a sniper to set up. In fact, I would have put a decoy in all five spots and then had Butler hide himself somewhere on the souk floor, ready to step in if those pesky lemur-nappers showed up again, which they very well could, as they seem to know my every move. I, Artemis Fowl, have been bamboozled by myself.
Suddenly, a horrifying thought struck him.
“Holly!” he shouted into the microphone pad adhered to his thumb. “Abort! Abort!”
“What . . .” came the crackly response. “The noise . . . I think . . . damaged.”
Then a few seconds of white noise, sharp snaps, and silence.
It was too late. Artemis could only press his face against the screen and watch helplessly as one of the leatherworkers shrugged off his shoulder blanket and straightened, revealing himself to be far taller than he had previously appeared. It was, of course, Butler, with a handheld infrared scanner extended before him.
Butler. Don’t do it, old friend. I know you were never comfortable with my schemes.
In three quick strides the bodyguard moved to Holly’s vat and netted the elf in his blanket. She struggled and fought, but never had a chance against Butler’s formidable strength. In ten seconds Holly was hog-tied and hoisted over the bodyguard’s shoulder. In five more seconds Butler was out of the gate and lost in the gathering crowds of the medina.
It all happened so quickly that Artemis’s jaw did not have time to drop. One moment he was in control, enjoying the smugness that comes with being the smartest person in the metaphorical room. The next he was crashing back to earth, having sacrificed his queen for a rook, realizing he was up against somebody just as smart as he was, only twice as ruthless.
He felt the pallor of desperation creep across his forehead, leaving pins and needles in its wake.
They have Holly. The Extinctionists will put her on trial on charges of breathing human air.
A thought occurred to him: Every defendant is entitled to a good lawyer.
CHAPTER 12
GONE FOREVER
La Domaine des Hommes, Extinctionists’ Compound, Fez
Artemis the younger agreed to accompany Dr. Kronski to his gated compound near the medina. Kronski’s Land Rover was considerably more luxurious than Artemis’s rented model, complete with powerful air-conditioning, water cooler, and white tiger upholstery.
Artemis ran a finger through the fur and was not surprised to find that it was real.
“Nice seats,” he commented drily.
Kronski did not answer. He hadn’t spoken much since losing the lemur, except to mutter to himself, cursing the unfairness of it all. It didn’t seem to bother him that his suit was covered in dye, which was transferring itself to his expensive upholstery.
Though it took barely five minutes to reach the compound, Artemis was glad of the thinking space. By the time the Land Rover was cleared through the reinforced gates, he had any wrinkles in his strategy straightened out, and he’d used the spare two minutes to plot one of the romance novels he occasionally wrote under the pseudonym Violet Tsirblou.
A guard with bulk to match Butler’s waved them through, underneath a walkway arch in the twelve-foot wall. Artemis kept his eyes open on the way in, noting the armed guards patrolling the ten-acre compound, and the position of the generator hut, and the staff quarters.
Information is power.
The residential chalets were built in the style of Californian beach houses, flat roofs, and plenty of glass, clustered around a man-made beach, complete with a wave machine and lifeguard. There was a large conference center in the middle of the compound, with a scaffold-clad spire jutting from its roof. Two men were perched on the scaffolding, putting the finishing touches to a brass icon on the spire’s tip. And even though most of the icon was wrapped in canvas, Artemis could see enough to know what it was. A human arm with the world in its fist. The symbol of the Extinctionists.
Kronski’s driver parked in front of the compound’s grandest chalet, and the doctor led the way inside wordlessly. He flapped a hand toward a hide-covered sofa, and disappeared into his bedroom.
Artemis was hoping for a shower and a change of clothes, but apparently Kronski was too upset for courtesy, so Artemis was forced to tug at the collar of his itchy shirt and wait for his host’s return.
Kronski’s reception lounge was a macabre space. One wall was covered with certificates of extinction, complete with photographs of the unfortunate animals and the dates on which the Extinctionists managed to murder the last one of the particular species.
Artemis browsed the photo wall. Here was a Japanese sea lion and a Yangtze river dolphin. A Guam flying fox and a Bali tiger.
All gone forever.
The only way to see these creatures would be to somehow build up enough momentum to travel faster than the speed of light and go back in time.
There were further horrors in the room, all labeled for educational purposes. The sofa was upholstered with the pelts of Falkland Island wolves. The base of a standing lamp was fashioned from the skull of a western black rhinoceros.
Artemis struggled to maintain his composure.
I need to get out of here as quickly as possible.
But the faint voice of his conscience reminded him that leaving this place would not mean that it no longer existed, and selling the strange creature to Kronski would only draw more people to it.
Artemis conjured a picture of his father in his mind.
Whatever it takes. Whatever I have to do.
Kronski entered the room, showered and wearing a flowing kaftan, his eyes red rimmed as though he’d been crying.
“Sit down, Ah-temis,” he said, gesturing toward the sofa with a hide-bound fly swatter.
Artemis eyed the seat. “No. I think I’ll stand.”
Kronski sank into an office chair. “Oh, I get it. Grown-up sofa. It’s difficult to be taken seriously when your feet don’t touch the ground.”
The doctor rubbed his eyes with stubby thumbs, then donned his trademark glasses.
“You have no idea what it’s been like for me, Ah-temis. Hounded from country to country because of my beliefs, like some common criminal. And now that I have finally found somewhere to call home—now that I have persuaded the committee to meet here—I lose my trial animal. That lemur was the centerpiece of the entire conference.”
Kronski’s voice was steady and he seemed to have recovered himself since his breakdown at the leather souk.
“The Extinctionists’ committee are very powerful men, Ah-temis. They are accustomed to comfort and convenience. Morocco is hardly convenient. I had to build this compound to entice them down here, and promise a big opening to the conference. And now all I have to show is a shining hand.”
Kronski brandished his hand, which was largely slime-free, but it did seem to glow faintly.
“
All is not lost, Doctor,” said Artemis soothingly. “I can provide you with something that will rejuvenate your society and make it globally relevant.”
Kronski’s frown was skeptical, but he leaned forward, arms slightly outstretched.
His face says no, thought Artemis. But his body language says yes.
“What are you selling, Ah-temis?”
Artemis opened the gallery on his phone and selected a photograph.
“This,” he said, passing the phone to Kronski.
The doctor studied the photograph, and the skepticism in his eyes grew more pronounced.
“What is this? Photo manipulation?”
“No. Genuine. This creature is real.”
“Come on, Ah-temis. What we’ve got here is latex and bone implants. Nothing more.”
Artemis nodded. “That’s a fair reaction. So you don’t pay until you’re satisfied.”
“I already paid.”
“You paid for a lemur,” Artemis countered. “This is an undiscovered species. Possibly a threat to mankind. This is what the Extinctionists are all about. Imagine how many members will clamor to donate to your church when you uncover this threat.”
Kronski nodded. “You put together a good argument for a ten-year-old. How much do I pay?”
“You pay five million euros. Nonnegotiable.”
“Cash?”
“Diamonds.”
Kronski pouted. “I won’t pay a single stone until I verify the authenticity of your product.”
“That’s fair.”
“That’s mighty accommodating of you, Fowl. How do you know I won’t double-cross you? After all, I’m pretty sure that you had a hand in whatever happened back at the souk. Payback is fair play where I come from.”
“You might double-cross me, Damon. But you won’t double-cross Butler. You are not a stupid man.”
Kronski grunted, impressed. “I got to hand it to you, boy. You’ve got all the angles figured. You present ’em well too.” He stared absently at his glowing hand. “You ever think it strange, Ah-temis, how a kid like you winds up going eyeball to eyeball with an old crook like me?”
“I don’t understand the question,” said Artemis truthfully.
Kronski clapped his hands and laughed. “It delights me, Ah-temis,” he said, “that a boy such as you exists. It makes my day.” The laughter stopped suddenly, as though cut off by a guillotine. “Now, how soon can I inspect the creature?”
“Immediately,” replied Artemis.
“Good. Well, text your man to come hither. Let’s say it takes him thirty minutes to get here, another ten to clear security. We can meet him in the grand lodge in one hour.”
“I said immediately,” said Artemis, clicking his fingers. Butler stepped out from behind a curtain, a Kevlar duffel bag under one arm.
Kronski squealed briefly, then rolled his eyes in frustration. “I can’t control that. . . . Ever since the koala in Cleveland. It’s so embarassing. . . .”
File and save, thought Artemis. Koala in Cleveland.
“Anyway,” continued the doctor, “how did he get in here?”
Butler shrugged. “I came in the same way you did, Doctor.”
“You were in the Land Rover,” breathed Kronski. “Very clever.”
“Not really. More lax on your part than clever on ours.”
“I will remember that. Do you have the merchandise with you?”
Butler’s mouth tightened, and Artemis knew that he was being pushed to the limits of his loyalty by this transaction. The lemur had been bad enough, but this female in the bag was some kind of person.
Wordlessly, the bodyguard placed the duffel on the desktop. Artemis tugged on the zipper, but Butler stopped him.
“She has some kind of hypnotizing skills. I once met a guy in Laos who could put the whammy on you, but nothing like this. She tried it outside the souk and I nearly ran into a camel, so I taped her mouth. Also, as we know, she can turn invisible. When I opened the bag first, she wasn’t there. I think her juice is running out, though. There could be more stunts; who knows what tricks she has hidden in those pointed ears. Are you prepared to take that risk?”
“Yes,” said Kronski, almost foaming at the mouth. “Absolutely yes. Open the bag.”
Butler removed his hand, and Artemis unzipped the duffel, exposing the figure inside.
Kronski stared into the mismatched eyes, ran a hand across the inhumanly wide brow, tugged one of the ears, then staggered to the office bar and poured himself a glass of water with shaky hands.
“Five million at today’s market price,” he said. “You said five and we agreed. No upping the price now.”
Artemis smiled. The doctor was hooked.
“Five million,” he said. “Plus expenses.”
Artemis the elder rode back to the landing site on a collapsible LEP scooter designed to resemble a 1950s human Lambretta. The resemblance was only bumper deep, as there were not many Lambrettas that came equipped with clean nuclear batteries, Gnommish satellite navigation, and self-destruct buttons.
The Ifrane road outside the imperial city was part of the fertile Fez river basin and was lined with olive groves and golf courses.
Ancient and modern. Coexisting.
Overhead the stars seemed closer and fiercer than at home in Ireland, shining down like stadium lights, as though Africa were somehow closer to the rest of the universe.
I lost her. I lost Holly.
But he did have a plan. A half-decent plan. All it needed was a bit of fairy technology to open a few doors, and then there was still a chance. Because without Holly, all was lost. There would be no future for any of them.
It took almost an hour to find the particular golf course where Holly had parked the LEP shuttle. Not that there was much evidence of a craft in that spot, besides a slightly flat plane of sand in the bunker. Holly had nosed the shuttle deep into the dry sand and left the shield powered on. Artemis only found it himself with the help of the bike’s navigation systems.
He collapsed the scooter into a Frisbee-size disk and climbed down through the roof hatch. Mulch Diggums was idly swiveling himself in the pilot’s chair. “That’s my scooter, Mud Boy,” he said. “That came off the trolley, so I take it with me.” Artemis shut the hatch behind him. “Where’s the lemur? Where’s Jayjay?”
Mulch answered these questions with some of his own. “Where’s Holly? Have you lost her?”
“Yes,” Artemis admitted miserably. “The boy outwitted me. He knew we would come for the lemur. He sacrificed it to get Holly.”
“Smart,” said Mulch. “Anyway, I’m off, see you . . .”
“See you? See you? One of your fairy comrades is in danger and you’re just going to desert her?”
Mulch raised his palms. “Hey, calm down, Mud Boy. The LEP are not my comrades. We had a deal: I get you the little furry fellow and you get me a trolley of LEP tech goodies. Job done, both parties happy.”
At that moment Jayjay poked his head around the bathroom door.
“What’s he doing in there?”
Mulch grinned. “Take two guesses.”
“Lemurs cannot use advanced plumbing.”
“See for yourself. Whatever’s in there, I’m blaming Jayjay.”
He clicked his furry fingers, and the lemur ran along his arm, onto his head.
“See? He accepts responsibility.” Mulch frowned. “You’re not going to trade this fellow for Captain Short, are you?”
“No point,” said Artemis, accessing the LEP central database. “It would be like trying to trade a hairpin for Excalibur.”
Mulch chewed his lip. “I’m familiar with the Excalibur story, so I know what you’re trying to say there. A hairpin is useless, Excalibur is wonderful, and so on. But in some instances a hairpin is extremely useful. Now, if you had said a rubber hairpin . . . Do you see what I’m getting at?”
Artemis ignored him, tapping furiously at the V-board that had appeared in front of him. He needed to know e
verything he could about the Extinctionists, and Foaly had an extensive file on them.
Mulch tickled Jayjay under the chin. “I was getting pretty fond of Captain Short, against my better judgment. I suppose I could dig in and rescue her.”
This was a genuine offer and a fair point, so Artemis spared a moment to address it.
“Not possible. Kronski has seen the tunnel rescue before and he won’t fall for it again. At any rate, you wouldn’t survive the temperature during the day. Even underground you wouldn’t be safe. The earth is so dry that cracks can penetrate up to fifty feet in open ground. One pinprick of midday sun and you would crisp like an old book in a furnace.”
Mulch winced. “Now you see that image works really well. So what are you going to do?”
Artemis used the advanced fairy technology to print a leopard print card with an Extinctionists’ hologram flashing silver and purple in the center.
“I’m going to the Extinctionists’ banquet tonight,” he said, flicking the card with his forefinger. “After all, I have been invited. All I need is a disguise and some medical supplies.”
Mulch was impressed. “That’s very good. You’re almost as devious as I am.”
Artemis turned back to the V-board. It would take time to firm up his cover.
“You have no idea,” he said.
The night of the Extinctionists’ banquet was upon him, and Kronski’s nerves were frazzled. He danced around his chalet wearing nothing but a bath towel, anxiously humming his way through the tunes from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Kronski often dreamed that he was wearing the technicolor coat, and it was fashioned from the pelts of all the animals he had hunted to extinction. He always awoke smiling.
Everything has to be perfect. This is the biggest night of my life. Thank you, little Ah-temis.
There was a lot riding on this conference, and the banquet generally set the tone for the entire weekend. Pull off something big at the banquet trial and the members would be buzzing about it for days. The Internet would be alive with chatter.