by Eoin Colfer
This was not the kind of wisdom I was accustomed to hearing from my father. Was this his natural personality, or the fairy magic? Or a combination of both?
“I never got involved before. I always thought the world could not be changed.”
Father’s gaze was intense, burning with new passion.
“But things are different now. My priorities are different. I intend to seize the day. Be the hero that every father should be.”
He sat on the bed beside me.
“And what about you, Arty? Will you make the journey with me? When the moment comes, will you take your chance to be a hero?”
I couldn’t respond. I did not know the answer. I still do not.
Fowl Manor
For two hours Artemis locked himself in his study, sitting cross-legged in the meditative position taught to him by Butler. Occasionally, he would voice an idea aloud, to be picked up by a voice-activated digital recorder placed on the mat before him. Butler and Juliet knew better than to interrupt the planning process. This period was crucial to the success of their mission. Artemis had the ability to visualize a hypothetical situation and calculate the likely outcomes. It was almost a dream state, and any disturbance could send the thread of his ideas flying like vapors.
Eventually Artemis emerged, tired but satisfied. He handed the team members three writable CDs.
“I want you to study these files,” he said. “They contain details of your assignments. When you have memorized the contents, destroy the disks.”
Holly took the disks. “A CD. How quaint. We have these in museums.”
“There are several computers in the study,” continued Artemis. “Use any terminal you wish.”
Butler was empty-handed. “Nothing for me, Artemis?”
Artemis waited until the others had gone. “I needed to give you your instructions verbally. I don’t want to risk Foaly’s picking them up from the computer.”
Butler sighed deeply, sinking into a leather armchair by the fireplace.
“I’m not going with you. Am I?”
Artemis sat on the chair’s arm. “No, old friend. But I have an important task for you.”
“Really, Artemis,” said Butler. “I’ve skipped right over my midlife crisis. You don’t have to invent a job just to make me feel useful.”
“No, Butler. This is of vital importance. It concerns the mind wipes. If my plan succeeds, we will have to submit to them. I see no way to sabotage the process itself, so I must ensure that something survives Foaly’s search. Something that will trigger our memories of the People. Foaly once told me that a strong enough stimulus can result in total recall.”
Butler shifted his position in the chair, wincing. His chest was still giving him trouble. Not surprising, really. He had been alive again less than two days.
“Any ideas?” Artemis asked.
“We need to lay a couple of false trails. Foaly will be expecting that.”
“Of course. A hidden file on the server. I could send an e-mail to ourselves, but not pick it up. Then the first time we check our mail, all this information will come through.”
Artemis handed the bodyguard a folded sheet of paper. “No doubt we will be mesmerized and questioned. In the past we have hidden from the mesmer behind mirrored sunglasses. We won’t get away with that on this occasion. So, we need to come up with something else. Here are the instructions.”
Butler studied the plans. “It’s possible. I know someone in Limerick. The best man in the country for this kind of specialized work.”
“Excellent,” said Artemis. “After that, you need to put everything we have on the People on a disk. All documents, video, schematics. Everything. And don’t forget my diary. The whole story is there.”
“And where do we hide this disk?” asked the ex-bodyguard.
Artemis untied the fairy pendant from around his neck.
“I’d say this was about the same size as a laser disk. Wouldn’t you?”
Butler tucked the gold medallion into his jacket pocket.
“It soon will be,” he said.
Butler prepared them a meal. Nothing fancy. Vegetarian spring rolls, followed by mushroom risotto with crème caramel to finish. Mulch opted for a bucket of diced worms and beetles, sautéed in a rainwater-and-moss vinaigrette.
“Has everybody studied their files?” Artemis asked, when the group had adjourned to the library.
“Yes,” said Holly. “But I seem to be missing a few key pieces.”
“Nobody has the entire plan. Just the parts concerning them. I think it’s safer that way. Do we have the equipment I specified?”
Holly dumped the contents of her pack on the rug.
“A complete LEP surveillance kit, including camouflage foil, mikes and video clips, and a first-aid box.”
“Plus we still have two intact LEP helmets and three laser handguns left over from the siege,” added Butler. “And of course one of the prototype Cubes from the lab.”
Artemis passed the cordless phone to Mulch.
“Very well, then. We may as well get started.”
The Spiro Needle
Jon Spiro sat in his opulent office, staring glumly at the C Cube on his desk. People thought it was easy being him. How little they knew. The more money you had, the more pressure you were under. He had eight hundred employees in this building alone, all relying on him for a paycheck. They wanted yearly salary reviews, medical plans, daycare centers, regular coffee breaks, double pay for overtime, and even stock options, for heaven’s sake. Sometimes, Spiro missed the times when a troublesome worker would be thrown out a high window and that was the end of him. These days, if you threw someone out of a window, they’d phone their lawyer on the way down.
But this Cube could be the answer to his prayers. A once-in-a-lifetime deal, the brass ring. If he could get this weird little gizmo working, the sky was the limit. Literally. The world’s satellites would be his to command. He would have complete control over spy satellites, military lasers, communications’ networks, and most important of all, elevision stations. He could feasibly rule the world.
His secretary buzzed from reception.
“Mr. Blunt to see you, sir.”
Spiro jabbed the intercom button.
“Okay, Marlene, send him in. And tell him he better look sorry.”
Blunt did indeed look sorry when he pushed through the double doors. The doors themselves were imposing enough. Spiro had them stolen from the ballroom of the sunken Titanic. They were a perfect example of power gone mad.
Arno Blunt was not quite so cocky as he had been in London. Then again, it is difficult to look arrogant when your forehead is a mass of bruises and your mouth is full of gums and nothing else.
Spiro winced at the sight of his sunken cheeks.
“How many teeth did you lose?”
Blunt touched his jaw gingerly. “All ob ’em. Dentish shaid de roods were shaddered.”
“It serves you right,” said Spiro matter-of-factly. “What do I gotta do, Arno? I hand you Artemis Fowl on a platter, and you mess it up. Tell me what happened. And I don’t want to hear about any earthquakes. I want the truth.”
Blunt wiped a blob of drool from the corner of his mouth.
“I doh undershtan’ ih. Shomeshin’ explohduh. dunno wha. Shome kinna shoun’ grenay. Buh I tell you shomeshin’. Butlah ish dead. I sho’ him in de har. No way he’sh geddin’ uh affer da.”
“Oh, shut up!” snapped Spiro. “You’re giving me a headache. The sooner you get those new teeth, the better.”
“My gumsh wi’ be healed suffishently by thish afernoo’.”
“I thought I told you to shut up!”
“Shorry, bosh.”
“You’ve put me in a very difficult situation, Arno. Because of your incompetence I had to hire a team from the Antonellis. Carla is a smart girl. She could decide that they deserve a percentage. It could cost me millions.”
Arno tried his best to look remorseful.
&n
bsp; “And don’t bother with the puppy-dog look, Blunt. It doesn’t cut any ice with me. If this deal goes south, you’ll be losing a lot more than a couple of teeth.”
Arno decided to change the subject. “Sho, di’ your shientishts geh de gube worging?”
“No,” said Spiro, twisting his gold identity bracelet. “Fowl has it sealed up tight. An eternity code, or some such thing. That idiot, Pearson, couldn’t get a peep out of it.”
It was at that moment, dramatically enough, that a voice emanated from the C Cube’s micro speaker mesh.
“Mr. Spiro?” said the voice. “This is Ireland calling. Do you read, Mr. Spiro?”
Jon Spiro was not a man who spooked easily. He hadn’t seen a horror movie yet that could make him jump in his seat, but the voice coming out of that speaker almost knocked him off his chair. The quality was incredible. Close your eyes, and you’d swear that the person speaking was standing right in front of you.
“You wan’ me to ansher da?”
“I told you to shut up! Anyway, I don’t know how to answer this thing.”
“I can hear you, Mr. Spiro,” said the voice. “You don’t need to do anything. Just talk. The box does the rest.”
Spiro noticed that a digital wave meter had appeared on the Cube’s screen. When he spoke, it registered.
“Okay, then. We got communication. Now, who the hell are you? And how did you get this box working?”
“The name is Mo Digence, Mr. Spiro. I’m the monkey from Carla Frazetti’s team. I don’t know what kind of box you have at your end, I just have a plain old telephone.”
“Well, who dialed the number then?”
“A little kid I have here by the scruff of the neck. I impressed upon him how important it was that I talk to you.”
“And how did you know to talk to me? Who gave you my name?”
“Again, the kid. He was very eager to tell me everything after he saw what I did to the metal man.”
Spiro sighed. If the metal man was damaged, he would have to pay the Antonellis a fine.
“What did you do to the metal man?”
“Nothing permanent. But he won’t be aiming any guns at kids for a while.”
“Why did you feel it necessary to damage your own partner, Digence?”
There was a pause on the other end, while Mulch got the supposed sequence of events sorted out.
“It was like this, Mr. Spiro. Our instructions were to escort the kid across to the U.S. But Loafers goes crazy and starts waving a gun around. I figured this was the wrong way to go. So I stopped him. Forcibly. Anyway, the kid gets so scared that he tells me everything I want to know. And here I am now, having a conversation with you.”
Spiro rubbed his hands together. “You did the right thing, Digence. There’ll be a bonus in this for you. I’ll see to it personally.”
“Thanks, Mr. Spiro. Believe me, the pleasure was mine.”
“Is the Fowl kid there?”
“Right beside me. A little pale, but not a scratch on him.”
“Put him on,” ordered Spiro, all traces of depression vanishing.
“Spiro, it’s me.” Artemis’s voice was aloof, but with an unmistakable tremor.
Spiro squeezed the air, as though it were Artemis’s neck.
“Not so cocky now, kid? It’s like I told you, you don’t have the guts for this job. Me on the other hand . . . If I don’t get what I want, then I’ll have Mo put you out of my misery. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes. Loud and clear.”
“Good,” said Spiro, clamping a huge Cuban cigar between his teeth. It would be chewed to a pulp, but not lit. “Now, talk. What do I have to do to get this Cube working?”
Artemis’s voice sounded even shakier than before. “It’s not that simple, Mr. Spiro. The C Cube is encrypted. Something called an eternity code. I can remotely access certain basic functions; the phone, MP3 player, and so on, but to disable the code completely and unlock the Cube’s potential, I need to have it here in front of me. If you could just bring the Cube here. . . .”
Spiro spat out the cigar. “Hold it right there, Fowl. Just how stupid do you think I am? I’m going to bring this priceless technology back to Europe? Forget it! If you’re going to disable this thing, you’re going to do it here. In the Spiro Needle!”
“But my tools, my lab?”
“I got tools here. And a lab. The best in the world. You do it here.”
“Yes. Whatever you say.”
“That’s right, kid. Whatever I say. I want you to fuel up the Lear jet, which I happen to know you have, and do a quick hop across to O’ Hare Airport. I’ll have a chopper waiting for you.”
“I don’t suppose I have a choice.”
“That’s right, kid. You don’t. But do this right and I might just let you go. Did you get all that, Digence?”
“Loud and clear, Mr. Spiro.”
“Good. I’m counting on you to get the kid here safely.” “Consider it done.” The line went dead. Spiro chuckled. “I think I’m going to celebrate,” he said, unching the intercom button. “Marlene, send in a pot of coffee, and no low-caffeine junk either, I want the real thing.”
“But, Mr. Spiro, your doctor said . . .” Spiro waited for his secretary to realize who she was rguing with. “I’m sorry, sir. Right away, sir.” Spiro leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind is head. “You see, Blunt, this is going to turn out fine, in spite of our incompetence. I got that kid just where I want him.” “Yesh, shir. Masherfully done, shir.” Spiro laughed. “Shut up, you clown. You sound like ome cartoon character.” “Yesh. Mosh amushing, shir.” Spiro licked his lips, anticipating his coffee. “For a suposed genius, that kid sure is gullible. Do this right and I might just let you go? He fell for that one, hook, line, and sinker.”
Blunt tried to grin. It was not a pretty sight. “Yesh, Mishuh Shpiro. Hoo, line, an’ shinkuh.”
Fowl Manor
Artemis hung up the phone, his face flushed with the thrill f the sting.
“What do you think? he asked.
“I think he bought it,” replied Butler.
“Hook, line, and sinker,” added Mulch. “You have a jet? I presume there’s a kitchen.”
Butler drove them to Dublin Airport in the Bentley. It was to be his final act in this particular operation. Holly and Mulch huddled in the back, glad of the tinted glass.
The Butler siblings sat up front, dressed in corresponding black designer suits. Juliet had jazzed hers up with a pink cravat and glitter makeup. The family resemblance was clear, the same narrow nose and full lips. The same eyes, jumping in their sockets like roulette balls in the wheel. Watching, always watching.
“You don’t need a traditional gun on this trip,” said Butler. “Use an LEP blaster. They don’t need reloading, they shoot in a straight line forever, and they’re nonlethal. I gave Holly a couple from my stash.”
“Got it, Dom.”
Butler took the airport exit. “Dom. I haven’t been called that in so long. Being a bodyguard becomes your world. You forget to have your own life. Are you sure that’s what you want, Juliet?”
Juliet was twining her hair in a tight braid, at the end of which she attached an ornamental jade ring. Ornamental and dangerous.
“Where else would I get to body-slam people? Body-guarding fits the bill, for the moment.”
Butler lowered his voice. “Of course, it’s completely against protocol for you to have Artemis as your Principal. He already knows your first name, and truth be told I think he’s a little fond of you.”
Juliet slapped the jade ring against her palm. “This is just temporary. I’m not anybody’s bodyguard just yet. Madam Ko doesn’t like my style.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Butler, pointing to the jade ring. “Where did you get that?”
Juliet smiled. “My own idea. A nice little surprise for anyone who underestimates females.”
Butler pulled into the set-down area.
“List
en to me, Juliet,” he said, catching his sister’s hand. “Spiro is dangerous. Look what happened to me, and in all modesty, I was the best. If this mission weren’t so vital to humans and fairies, I wouldn’t let you go at all.”
Juliet touched her brother’s face. “I’ll be careful.”
They climbed onto the walkway. Holly hovered, shielded, several feet above the throngs of business travelers and holiday makers. Mulch had applied a fresh layer of sun block, and the stink repelled every human who was unfortunate enough to get within ten feet of him.
Butler touched Artemis’s shoulder.
“Are you going to be all right?”
Artemis shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Without you by my side, I feel as though one of my limbs is missing.”
“Juliet will keep you safe. She has an unusual style, but she is a Butler, after all.”
“It’s one last mission, old friend. Then there will be no more need for bodyguards.”
“It’s a pity Holly couldn’t have simply mesmerized Spiro through the Cube.”
Artemis shook his head. “It wouldn’t have worked. Even if we could have set up a link, a fairy needs eye-to-eye contact to mesmerize a strong mind like Spiro’s. I don’t want to take any chances with this man. He needs to be put away. Even if the fairies relocated him, he could do some damage.”
“What about your plan?” Butler asked. “From what you told me, it’s quite convoluted. Are you sure it’s going to work?”
Artemis winked, a very unusual display of levity.
“I’m sure,” he said. “Trust me. I’m a genius.”
Juliet piloted the Lear jet across the Atlantic. Holly sat in he copilot’s chair, admiring the hardware.
“Nice bird,” she commented.
“Not bad, fairy girl,” said Juliet, switching to autopilot. “Not a patch on fairy craft, I’d bet?”
“The LEP doesn’t believe in comfort,” said Holly.
“There’s barely enough room in an LEP shuttle to swing a tink worm.”