by Colfer, Eoin
A bead of sweat ran down the bodyguard’s cheek.
‘PUT IT DOWN!’
And Butler did, gradually and grudgingly.
Holly smiled. ‘Good, Mud Man. Now, back to the car and act as though nothing’s wrong.’
The manservant’s legs obeyed, ignoring the signals from his own brain.
Holly buzzed up her shield. She was going to enjoy this.
Artemis was composing an e-mail on his laptop.
Dear Principal Guiney . . . it read . . .
Because of your counsellor’s tactless interrogation of my little Arty, I have taken him out of school for a course of therapy sessions with real professionals in the Mont Gaspard Clinic in Switzerland. I am considering legal action. Do not attempt to contact me as that would only serve to irritate me further and, when irritated, I generally call my attorneys.
Sincerely,
Angeline Fowl
Artemis sent the message, allowing himself the luxury of a small grin. It would have been nice to watch Principal Guiney’s expression when he read the electronic letter. Unfortunately, the button camera he’d planted in the headmaster’s office could only be accessed within a mile radius.
Butler opened the driver’s door and, after a moment, slipped into the seat.
Artemis folded his phone into its wallet. ‘Captain Short, I presume. Why don’t you stop vibrating and settle into the visible spectrum?’
Holly speckled into view. There was a gleaming gun in her hand. Guess where it was pointed.
‘Really, Holly, is that necessary?’
Holly snorted. ‘Well, let’s see. Kidnapping, actual bodily harm, extortion, conspiracy to commit murder. I’d say it’s necessary.’
‘Please, Captain Short,’ said Artemis, with a smile, ‘I was young and selfish. Believe it or not, I do harbour some doubts over that particular venture.’
‘Not enough doubts to return the gold?’
‘No,’ admitted Artemis. ‘Not quite.’
‘How did you know I was here?’
Artemis steepled his fingers. ‘There were several clues. One, Butler did not conduct his usual bomb check under the car. Two, he returned without the items he went to fetch. Three, the door was left open for several seconds, something no good security man would permit. And four, I detected a slight haze as you entered the vehicle. Elementary really.’
Holly scowled. ‘Observant little Mud Boy, aren’t you?’
‘I try. Now, Captain Short, if you would be so kind as to tell me why you are here.’
‘As if you don’t know.’
Artemis thought for a moment. ‘Interesting. I would guess that something has happened. Obviously something that I am being held responsible for.’ He raised an eyebrow fractionally. An intense expression of emotion for Artemis Fowl. ‘There are humans trading with the People.’
‘Very impressive,’ said Holly. ‘Or it would be if we didn’t both know that you’re behind it. And if we can’t get the truth out of you, I’m sure your computer files will prove most revealing.’
Artemis closed the laptop’s lid. ‘Captain. I realize there is no love lost between us, but I don’t have time for this now. It is imperative that you give me a few days to sort out my affairs.’
‘No can do, Fowl. There are a few people below ground who would like a word.’
Artemis shrugged. ‘I suppose after what I did, I can’t really expect any consideration.’
‘That’s right. You can’t.’
‘Well then,’ sighed Artemis. ‘I don’t suppose I have a choice.’
Holly smiled. ‘That’s right, Fowl, you don’t.’
‘Shall we go?’ Artemis’s tone was meek, but his brain was sparking off ideas. Maybe co-operating with the fairies wasn’t such a bad idea. They had certain abilities after all.
‘Why not?’ Holly turned to Butler. ‘Drive south. Stay on the back roads.’
‘Tara, I presume. I often wondered where exactly the entrance to El was.’
‘Keep wondering, Mud Boy,’ muttered Holly. ‘Now, sleep. All this deduction is wearing me out.’
* * *
CHAPTER 4: FOWL IS FAIR
ARTEMIS woke in the LEP interrogation room. He could have been in any police interview room in the world. Same uncomfortable furniture, same old routine. Root jumped right in. ‘OK, Fowl, start talking.’ Artemis took a moment to get his bearings. Holly and Root were facing him across a low plastic-topped table. A high-watt bulb shone directly into his face.
‘Really, Commander. Is this it? I expected more.’ ‘Oh there’s more. Just not for criminals like you.’ Artemis noted that his hands were shackled to the chair.
‘You’re not still upset about last year, are you? After all, I won. That is supposed to be that, according to your own Book.’
Root leaned forward until the tip of his cigar was centimetres from Artemis’s nose. ‘This is an entirely different case, Mud Boy. So don’t give me the innocent act.’
Artemis was unperturbed. ‘Which one are you? Good Cop or Bad Cop?’
Root laughed heartily, the tip of his cigar drawing patterns in the air. ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop! Hate to tell you this, Dorothy, but you ain’t in Kansas any more.’ The commander loved quoting The Wizard of Oz. Three of his cousins were in the movie.
A figure emerged from the shadows. It had a tail, four legs, two arms and was holding what looked like a pair of common kitchen plungers.
‘OK, Mud Boy,’ said the figure. ‘Just relax and this might not hurt too much.’
Foaly attached the suction cups to Artemis’s eyes and the boy immediately fell unconscious.
‘The sedative is in the rubber seals,’ explained the centaur. ‘Gets in through the pores. They never see it coming. Tell me I’m not the cleverest individual in the universe.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Root innocently. ‘That pixie Koboi is one pretty sharp female.’
Foaly stamped a hoof angrily. ‘Koboi? Koboi? Those wings of hers are ridiculous. If you ask me, we’re using far too much Koboi technology these days. It’s not good to let one company have all the LEP’s business.’
‘Unless it’s yours, of course.’
‘I’m serious, Julius. I know Opal Koboi from my days at university. She’s not stable. There are Koboi chips in all the new Neutrinos. If those labs go under, all we’d have left are the DNA cannons in Police Plaza and a few cases of electric stun guns.’
Root snorted. ‘Koboi just upgraded every gun and vehicle in the force. Three times the power, half the heat emission. Better than the last statistics from your lab, Foaly.’
Foaly threaded a set of fibre-optic cables back to the computer.
‘Yes, well, maybe if the Council would give me a decent budget . . ."
‘Quit your moaning, Foaly. I saw the budget for this machine. It better do more than unblock the drains.’
Foaly flicked his tail, highly offended.
‘This is a Retimager, I’m considering going private with this baby.’
‘And it does what exactly?’
Foaly activated a plasma screen on the holding-cell wall.
‘You see these dark circles? These are the human’s retinas. Every image leaves a tiny etching, like a photo negative. We can feed whatever pictures we want into the computer and search for matches.’
Root didn’t exactly fall to his knees in awe. ‘Isn’t that handy.’
‘Well, yes, it is actually. Observe.’
Foaly called up an image of a goblin, cross-referencing it with the Retimager’s database.
‘For every matching point we get a hit. About two hundred hits is normal. General shape of the head, features and so on. Anything significantly above that and he’s seen that goblin before.’
One eighty-six flashed up on the screen.
‘Negative on the goblin. Let’s try a Softnose.’
Again, the count was under two hundred.
‘Another negative. Sorry, Captain, but Master Fowl here is innocent. He�
��s never even seen a goblin, much less traded with the B’wa Kell.’
‘They could have mind-wiped him.’
Foaly removed the seals from Artemis’s eyes. ‘That’s the beauty of this baby. Mind-wipes don’t work. The Retimager operates on actual physical evidence. You’d have to scrub the retinas.’
‘Anything on the human’s computer?’
‘Plenty,’ replied Foaly. ‘But nothing incriminating. Not a single mention of goblins or batteries.’
Root scratched his square jaw. ‘What about the big one? He could have been the go-between.’
‘Did him already with the Retimager. Nothing. Face it, the LEP have pulled in the wrong Mud Men. Wipe ‘em and send ‘em home.’
Holly nodded. The commander didn’t.
‘Wait a minute. I’m thinking.’
‘About what?’ asked Holly. ‘The sooner we get Artemis Fowl’s nose out of our business, the better.’
‘Maybe not. Since they’re already here . . ."
Holly’s jaw dropped. ‘Commander. You don’t know Fowl like I do. Give him half a chance and he’ll be a bigger problem than the goblins.’
‘Maybe he could help us with our Mud Man problem.’
‘I have to object, Commander.These humans are not to be trusted.’
Root’s face would have glowed in the dark.
‘Do you think I like this, Captain? Do you think I relish the idea of crawling to this Mud Boy? I do not. I would rather swallow live stink worms than ask Artemis Fowl for help. But someone is powering the B’wa Kell’s arms, and I need to find out who. So get with the programme, Holly. There’s more at stake here than your little vendetta.’
Holly bit her tongue. She couldn’t oppose the commander, not after all he’d done for her, but asking Artemis Fowl for help was the wrong course of action whatever the situation. She didn’t doubt for a minute that the human would have a solution to their problem, but at what cost?
Root drew a deep breath. ‘OK, Foaly, bring him round. And fit him with a translator. Speaking Mud Man gives me a headache.’
*
Artemis massaged the puffy skin beneath his eyes.
‘Sedative in the seals?’ he said, glancing at Foaly. ‘Micro-needles?’
The centaur was impressed. ‘You’re pretty sharp for a Mud Boy.’
Artemis touched the crescent-shaped nodule fixed above his ear.
‘Translator?’
Foaly nodded at the commander. ‘Speaking in tongues gives some people a headache.’
Artemis straightened his school tie. ‘I see. Now, how can I be of service?’
‘What makes you think we need help from you, human?’ growled Root around the butt of his cigar.
The boy smirked. ‘I have a feeling, Commander, that if you did not need something from me, I would be regaining consciousness in my own bed, with absolutely no memory of our encounter.’
Foaly hid his grin behind a hairy hand.
‘You’re lucky you’re not waking up in a cell,’ said Holly.
‘Still bitter, Captain Short? Can’t we wipe the slate clean?’
Holly’s glare was all the answer he needed.
Artemis sighed. ‘Very well. I shall guess. There are humans trading with the Lower Elements. And you need Butler to track these merchants down. Close enough?’
The fairies were silent for a moment. Hearing it from Fowl suddenly brought the reality home to them.
‘Close enough,’ admitted Root. ‘OK, Foaly, bring Mud Boy up to speed.’
The consultant loaded a file from the LEP central server. A series of Network News clips flashed up on the plasma screen. The reporter was a middle-aged elf with a quiff the size of a Honolulu roller.
‘Downtown Haven,’ crooned the reporter. ‘Another contraband seizure by the LEP. Hollywood laser disks with an estimated street value of five hundred gold grams. The B’wa Kell goblin triad is suspected.’
‘It gets worse,’ said Root grimly.
Artemis smiled. ‘There’s worse?’
The reporter appeared again. This time flames billowed from the windows of a warehouse behind him. His quiff looked a bit crispy.
‘Tonight the B’wa Kell has staked its claim to the East Bank by torching a warehouse used by Koboi Laboratories. Apparently the pixie with the golden touch refused to pay the triad’s protection fee.’
The flames were replaced by another news bite, this time featuring an angry mob.
‘Controversy today outside Police Plaza as the public protest at the LEP’s failure to deal with the goblin problem. Many ancient houses have been put out of business by the B’wa Kell’s racketeering. Most heavily targeted has been Koboi Laboratories, which has suffered six counts of sabotage in the past month alone.’
Foaly froze the image. The public did not look happy.
‘The thing you have to understand, Fowl, is that goblins are dumb. I’m not insulting them. It’s scientifically proven. Brains no bigger than rats.’
Artemis nodded. ‘So who’s organizing them?’
Root ground out his cigar. ‘We don’t know. But it’s getting worse. The B’wa Kell has graduated from petty crime to an all-out war on the police. Last night we intercepted a delivery of batteries from the surface. These batteries are being used to power outlawed Softnose laser weapons.’
‘And Captain Short thought that I might be the Mud Man on the other end of the deal.’
‘Can you blame me?’muttered Holly.
Artemis ignored the comment. ‘How do you know the goblins aren’t just ripping off wholesalers? After all, batteries are rarely under guard.’
Foaly chuckled. ‘No, I don’t think you understand just how stupid goblins are. Let me give you an example. One of the B’wa Kell generals, and this is their top fairy, was caught trying to pass off forged credit slips by signing his own name. No, whoever is behind this would need a human contact to make sure the deals weren’t fouled up.’
‘So you’d like me to find out who this human contact is,’ said Artemis. ‘And more importantly, how much he knows.’
As he spoke, Artemis’s mind was racing. He could work this entire situation to his advantage. The People’s powers would be valuable aces to hold in a negotiation with mobsters. The seeds of a plan began to sprout in his brain.
Root nodded reluctantly. ‘That’s it. I can’t risk putting LEPrecon agents above ground. Who knows what technology the goblins have traded. I could be walking my men into a trap. As humans, you could both blend in.’
‘Butler blend in?’ said Artemis, smiling. ‘I doubt it.’
‘At least he doesn’t have four legs and a tail,’ observed Foaly.
‘Point taken. And there is no doubt that if any man alive can track down your rogue trader, it’s Butler. But . . .’
Here we go, thought Holly. Artemis Fowl does nothing for nothing.
‘But?’ prompted Root.
‘But if you want my help, I will require something in return.’
‘What exactly?’ said Root warily.
‘I need transport to Russia,’ replied Artemis. ‘The Arctic Circle to be precise. And I need help with a rescue attempt.’
Root frowned. ‘Northern Russia is not good for us. We can’t shield there because of the radiation.’
‘Those are my conditions,’ said Artemis. ‘The man I intend to rescue is my father. For all I know, it’s already too late. So I really don’t have time to negotiate.’
The Mud Boy sounded sincere. Even Holly’s heart softened for a moment. But you never knew with Artemis Fowl — this could all be part of yet another scheme. Root made an executive decision.
‘Deal,’ he said, holding out his hand.
They shook. Fairy and human. A historic moment.
‘Good,’ said Root. ‘Now, Foaly, wake the big one and give that goblin shuttle a quick systems check.’
‘What about me?’ asked Holly. ‘Back on stakeout duty?’
If Root had not been a commander, he probably would have
cackled. ‘Oh no, Captain. You’re the best shuttle pilot we have. You’re going to Paris.’
* * *
CHAPTER 5: DADDY’S GIRL
KOBOI LABORATORIES, EAST BANK, HAVEN CITY, THE LOWER ELEMENTS
KOBOI Laboratories was carved from the rock of Haven’s East Bank. It stood eight storeys high, surrounded by half a mile of granite on five sides, with access from the front only. Management had beefed up their security, and who could blame them? After all, the B’wa Kell had specifically targeted Koboi for arson attacks. The Council had gone so far as to grant the company special weapons permits — if Koboi went under, the entire Haven City defence network went under with it.
Any B’wa Kell goblins attempting to storm Koboi Laboratories would have been met with DNA-coded stun cannons, which scanned an intruder before blasting him.
There were no blind spots in the building, no place to hide. The system was foolproof.
But the goblins didn’t have to worry about that. The Laboratories’ defences were actually designed to keep out any LEP officers who might come snooping around at the wrong moment. It was Opal Koboi herself who was funding the goblin triad. The attacks on Koboi were actually a smokescreen to divert suspicions away from her own personal dealings: the tiny pixie was the mastermind behind the battery operation and the increased B’wa Kell activity. Well, one of the masterminds. But why would an individual of almost limitless wealth possibly wish to associate with a goblin tunnel gang?
Since the day of her birth, nothing much had ever been expected of Opal Koboi. Born to a family of old-money pixies on Principality Hill, her parents would have been quite content had young Opal done nothing more than attend private school, complete some wishy-washy Arts degree and marry a suitable vice-president.
In fact, as far as her father, Ferall Koboi, was concerned, a dream daughter would have been moderately intelligent, quite pretty and, of course, complacent. But Opal did not display the personality traits Ferall would have wished for. By the age of ten months she was already walking unaided, by a year and a half she had a vocabulary of over five hundred words. Before her second birthday she had dismantled her first hard drive.