The Seventh Dwarf (Artemis Fowl 1.5)

Mulch punched through the basement floor in a flurry of cement dust and spinning limbs. The dust was whipped into a dozen mini-whirlwinds by his The stones had an unnatural sheen to them. Oily. Not clean like real gems. And the gold was too shiny. Nothing a human eye would notice. But gold is life to a dwarf. It is in their blood and dreams.

Mulch lifted the tiara. It was too light. A tiara of this size should weigh at least two pounds.

There were two possible conclusions to be drawn from all this. Either this was a decoy and the real tiara was safely hidden elsewhere, or this was a test, and he had been lured here to take that test. But lured here by whom? And for what purpose?

These questions were answered almost immediately. A giant Egyptian sarcophagus popped open in the deepest of the shadows, revealing two figures who were most definitely not mummies.

'Congratulations, Mulch Diggums,' said the first, a pale boy with dark hair. Mulch noticed that he wore night vision goggles. The other was a giant bodyguard who Mulch had humiliated recently enough for it to still smart. The man's name was Butler, and he did not look in the best of moods.

'You have passed my test,' continued the boy, in confident tones. He straightened his suit jacket and stepped from the sarcophagus extending a hand.

'A pleasure to meet you. Mister Diggums, I am your new business partner. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is ...'

Mulch shook the hand. He knew who this boy was. They had battled before, just not face to face. He was the only human to ever have stolen fairy gold, and managed to keep it. Whatever he had to say, Mulch was certain that it would be interesting.

'I know who you are, Mud Boy,' said the dwarf. 'Your name is Artemis Fowl.'

CHAPTER 2: High Priority

Police Plaza. Haven City. The Lower Elements.

When Mulch Diggums said the name Artemis Fowl, the Mud Boy's file was automatically shunted to the hot pile in Police Plaza. Every fairy Lower Elements Police helmet was fitted with a satellite tracker and could be located anywhere in the world. They also had voice activated microphones, so whatever Mulch said was heard by a surveillance intern. The case was immediately removed from the intern's desktop when Artemis's name was mentioned. Artemis Fowl was fairy enemy number one, and anything related to the Irish boy was sent immediately to the LEP's technical adviser, the centaur, Foaly.

Foaly logged on to the live transmission from Mulch's helmet, and cantered into LEP Commander Root's office.

'We have something here, Julius. It could be important.'

Commander Julius Root looked up from the fungus cigar he was clipping. The elf did not look happy, but then he rarely did. His complexion was not as rosy as usual, but the centaur had a feeling that was about to change.

'A few words of advice, pony boy,' snapped Root, tearing the tip from the cigar. 'One, don't call me Julius. And two, there is a protocol in place for speaking to me. I'm the commander here, not one of your polo buddies.'

He leaned back in his chair, lighting the cigar. Foaly was unimpressed by all the posturing.

'Whatever. This is important. Artemis Fowl's name has come in on a sound file.'

Root sat up abruptly, protocol forgotten. Less than a year previously Artemis Fowl had kidnapped one of his captains, and extorted half a ton of gold from the LEP ransom fund. But more important than the gold itself was the knowledge inside the Irish boy's head. He knew of the People's existence, and might decide to exploit them again.

'Talk quickly, Foaly. No jargon, just Gnommish.'

Foaly sighed. Half the fun of delivering vital news was explaining how his technology had made gathering the news possible.

'OK. A certain amount of LEP hardware goes missing every year.'

'Which is why we can remote destruct them.'

'In most cases, yes.'

The commander's cheeks flushed angrily. 'Most cases, Foaly? You never said anything about most cases during the budget meeting.'

Foaly raised his palms. 'Hey, you try to remote destruct it if you like. See what happens.'

The commander glared at him suspiciously. 'And why shouldn't I just press the button right now?'

'Because the self-destruct has been switched off, meaning someone clever has got hold of it. Previously the helmet was active, which means someone was wearing it. We couldn't risk blowing off a fairy's head, even if he or she is a criminal.'

Root chewed the butt of his cigar. 'I'm tempted, believe me. Where did this helmet come from? And who is wearing it?'

Foaly consulted a computer file on the com-card in his palm. 'It's an old model. Best guess, a surface fence sold it to a rogue dwarf.'

Root crushed the cigar into an ash tray. 'Dwarfs. If they're not mining protected areas, they're stealing from the humans. Do we have a name?'

'No. The distance is too great to run a voice pattern analysis. Anyway, even if we could, as you know, due to the unique positioning of their larynx, all dwarf males have basically the same voice.'

'This is all I need,' groaned the commander. 'Another dwarf on the surface. I thought we'd seen the last of that when ...' He paused, saddened by a sudden memory. The dwarf Mulch Diggums had been killed months earlier, tunnelling out of Artemis Fowl's manor. Mulch had been a huge pain in the rear end, but he hadn't been without charisma.

'So, what do we know?'

Foaly read from a list on his screen. 'Our unidentified subject burrows into a Manhattan basement, where he meets Artemis Fowl Junior. Then they leave together, so something is definitely up:

'What is up, exactly?'

'We don't know. Fowl knew enough about our technology to turn off the mike, and the self-destruct, probably because Butler took a load of equipment from LEP retrieval during the Fowl Manor siege.'

'What about global positioning? Did Artemis know enough to turn that off?'

Foaly grinned smugly. 'That can't be turned off. Those old helmets had a tracker layer sprayed on.'

'How fortunate for us. Where are they now?'

'In Fowl's jet, heading for Ireland. It's a Lear, top of the range.' Foaly noticed the commander's laser stare. 'But you probably don't care about the jet, so let's move on, shall we?'

'Yes, let's,' said Root caustically. 'Do we have anyone topside?'

Foaly activated a large plasma screen on the wall, quickly negotiating his way through files to a world map. There were fairy icons pulsing in various countries.

'We have three Retrieval teams but nobody in the old country.'

'Naturally,' groaned Root. 'That would be far too handy.' He paused. 'Where's Captain Short?'

'On vacation above ground. I would remind you that she's off field duty, pending a tribunal.'

Root waggled his fingers at imaginary regulations. 'Minor detail. Holly knows Fowl better than any fairy alive. Where is she?'

Foaly consulted his computer, as if he didn't already know. As if he didn't make a dozen calls from his workstation every day, to see if Holly had picked up that hoof-moisturizer he'd asked for.

'She's in the Cominetto Spa. I don't know about this, Commander. Holly is tough, but Artemis Fowl kidnapped her. Her judgement could be clouded.'

'No,' said Root. 'Holly is one of my best officers, even if she doesn't believe it. Get me a line to that spa. She's going back to Fowl Manor.'

CHAPTER 3: The Seventh Dwarf

The Island of Cominetto. Off the coast of Malta. The Mediterranean.

The Cominetto Spa was the most exclusive holiday destination for the People. It took several years of repeated application to get visa approval for a visit, but Foaly had done a little computer hocus pocus to get Holly on the shuttle to the Spa. She needed the break after what she'd been through. And was still going through. For now, instead of giving her a medal for saving half of the ransom fund, LEP Internal Affairs were actually investigating her.

In the past week, Holly had been exfoliated, laser peeled, purged (don't ask) and tweezered within an inch of her life, all in the name of relaxation. Her co

ffee-coloured skin was smooth and blemish free, and her cropped auburn hair glowed with internal lustre. But she was bored out of her skull.

The sky was blue, the sea was green and the living was easy. And Holly knew that she would go completely berserk if she had to spend one more minute being pampered. But Foaly had been so pleased when he had set this trip up, that she didn't have the heart to tell him how fed up she was.

Today she was lying in a bubble pool of algae sludge have her pores rejuvenated and playing guess the crime. This was a game where you assumed that everyone that passed by was a criminal, and you had to guess what they were guilty of.

The white-suited algae therapist wandered over with a phone on a transparent platter.

'A call from Police Plaza, Sister Short,' he said. His tone left Holly in no doubt what he thought of phone calls in this oasis of calm.

'Thank you, Brother Hummus,' she said, snatching the handset. Foaly was on the other end.

'Bad news, Holly,' said the centaur. 'You've been recalled to active duty. A special assignment.'

'Really?' said Holly, simultaneously punching the air and trying to sound disappointed. 'What's the assignment?'

'Take a couple of deep breaths,' advised Foaly. 'And maybe a few pills.'

'What is it, Foaly?' insisted Holly, though her gut already knew.

'It's ...'

'Artemis Fowl,' said Holly. 'I'm right, aren't I?'

'Yes,' admitted Foaly. 'The Irish boy is back. And he's teamed up with a dwarf. We don't know what they're planning, so you need to find out.'