Artemis Fowl (Artemis Fowl 1)

“Have all nonessential personnel been evacuated?”

“Unless they’ve sneaked back in since the last time you asked me.”

“Not now, Foaly. Believe me, now is not the time. Anything from Captain Short?”

“Nope. We lost video after the troll thing. I’d guess the battery is ruptured. We’d better get that helmet off her ASAP, or the radiation will fry her brain. That’d be a pity after all this work.”

Foaly returned to his console. A red light began pulsing gently.

“Wait, motion sensor. We’ve got activity by the main entrance.”

Root crossed to the screens. “Can you enhance it?”

“No problem.” Foaly punched in the coordinates, blowing it up four hundred percent.

Root sat down on the nearest chair.

“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”

“You sure are.” Foaly chuckled. “This is even better than the suit of armor.”

Holly was coming out. With the gold.

Retrieval was on her in half a second.

“Let’s get you out of the danger zone, Captain,” urged a sprite, catching Holly by the elbow.

Another ran a rad-sensor over her helmet.

“We’ve got a power source breach here, Captain. We need to get your head sprayed immediately.”

Holly opened her mouth to protest, and had it instantly filled with rad-suppressant foam.

“Can’t this wait?” she spluttered.

“Sorry, Captain. Time is of the essence. The commander wants a debriefing before we detonate.”

Holly was rushed toward the Mobile Ops unit, her feet barely touching the ground. All around her Retrieval Cleaners scanned the grounds for any trace of the siege. Techies dismantled the field dishes, making ready to pull the plug. Grunts steered the trolley toward the portal. It was imperative that everything be relocated to a safe distance before the bio-bomb went in.

Root was waiting on the steps.

“Holly,” he blurted. “I mean, Captain. You made it.”

“Yessir. Thank you, sir.”

“And the gold too. This is a real feather in your cap.”

“Well, not all, Commander. About half, I think.”

Root nodded. “No matter. We’ll have the rest soon enough.”

Holly wiped rad-foam from her brow.

“I’ve been thinking about that, sir. Fowl made a mistake. He never ordered me not to reenter the house, and seeing as he brought me in there in the first place, the invitation still stands. I could go in and mind-wipe the occupants. We could hide the gold in the walls and do another time-stop tomorrow night. . . .”

“No, Captain.”

“But, sir . . .”

Root’s features regained whatever tension they’d lost.

“No, Captain. The Council is not about to hold off for some kidnapping Mud Man. It’s just not going to happen. I have my orders, and believe me they’re written in stone.”

Holly trailed Root into the mobile.

“But the girl, sir. She’s an innocent!”

“Casualty of war. She threw her lot in with the wrong side. Nothing can be done for her now.”

Holly was incredulous. “A casualty of war? How can you say that? A life is a life.”

Root spun sharply, grasping her by the shoulders.

“You did what you could, Holly,” he said. “No one could have done more. You even retrieved most of the ransom. You’re suffering from what humans call Stockholm Syndrome: you have bonded with your captors. Don’t worry, it will pass. But those people in there, they know. About us. Nothing can save them now.”

Foaly looked up from his calculations.

“Not true. Technically. Welcome back, by the way.”

Holly couldn’t spare even a second to return the greeting.

“What do you mean not true?”

“I’m fine, seeing as you asked.”

“Foaly!” shouted Root and Holly in unison.

“Well, like the Book says: ‘If the Mud Man gold can gather, In spite of magick or fairy glamor, Then that gold is his to keep, Until he lies in eternal sleep.’ So if he lives, he wins. It’s that simple. Not even the Council will go against the Book.”

Root scratched his chin. “Should I be worried?”

Foaly laughed mirthlessly. “No. Those guys are as good as dead.”

“As good as isn’t good enough.”

“Is that an order?”

“Affirmative, soldier.”

“I’m not a soldier,” said Foaly, and pressed the button.

Butler was more than a little surprised.

“You gave it back?”

Artemis nodded. “About half. We still have quite a nest egg. About fifteen million dollars at today’s market prices.”

Butler usually wouldn’t ask. But this time he had to. “Why, Artemis? Can you tell me?”

“I suppose so.” The boy smiled. “I felt we owed the captain something. For services rendered.”

“Is that all?”

Artemis nodded. No need to talk about the wish. It could be perceived as weakness.

“Hmm,” said Butler, smarter than he looked.

“Now, we should celebrate,” enthused Artemis, deftly changing the subject. “Some champagne, I think.”

The boy strode to the kitchen before Butler’s gaze could dissect him.

By the time the others caught up, Artemis had already filled three glasses with Dom Perignon.

“I’m a minor, I know, but I’m sure Mother wouldn’t mind. Just this once.”

Butler felt that something was afoot. Nevertheless, he took the crystal flute offered to him.

Juliet looked at her big brother.

“Is this okay?”

“I suppose so.” He took a breath. “You know I love you, don’t you, sis?”

Juliet scowled—something else that the local louts found very endearing. She smacked her brother on the shoulder.

“You’re so emotional for a bodyguard.”

Butler looked his employer straight in the eye.

“You want us to drink this, don’t you, Artemis?”

Artemis met his gaze squarely. “Yes, Butler. I do.”

Without another word Butler drained his glass, Juliet followed suit. The manservant tasted the tranquilizer immediately, and although he would have had ample time to snap Artemis Fowl’s neck, he didn’t. No need for Juliet to be distressed in her final moments.

Artemis watched his friends sink to the floor. A pity to deceive them. But if they had been alerted to the plan, their anxiety could have counteracted the sedative. He gazed at the bubbles swirling in his own glass. Time for the most audacious step in his scheme. With only the barest hint of hesitation, he swallowed the tranquilizer-laced champagne.

Artemis waited calmly for the drug to take hold of his system. He didn’t have to wait long, since each dose had been calculated according to body weight. As his thoughts began to swirl, it occurred to him that he might never awaken again. It’s a bit late for doubts, he chided himself, an

d sank into unconsciousness.

* * *

“She’s away,” said Foaly, leaning back from the console. “It’s out of my hands now.”

They followed the missile’s progress through polarized windows. It really was a remarkable piece of equipment. Because its main weapon was light, the fallout could be focused to an exact radius. The radioactive element used in the core was solinium 2, which had a half-life of fourteen seconds. This effectively meant that Foaly could tune the bio-bomb to blue-rinse only Fowl Manor and not one blade of grass more, plus the building would be radiation-free in under a minute. In the event that a few solinium flares refused to be focused, they would be contained by the time-field. Murder made easy.

“The flight path is preprogrammed,” explained Foaly, though no one was paying a blind bit of attention. “She’ll sail into the lobby and detonate. The casing and firing mechanism are plastic alloy and will completely disintegrate. Clean as a whistle.”

Root and Holly followed the bomb’s arc. As predicted, it swooped through the decimated doorway without knocking so much as a sliver of stone from the medieval walls. Holly switched her attention to the missile’s nose-cam. For a moment she caught a glimpse of the grand hallway where she had, until recently, been a prisoner. It was empty. Not a human in sight. Maybe, she thought. Just maybe. Then she looked at Foaly and the technology at his fingertips. And she realized that the humans were as good as dead.

The bio-bomb detonated. A blue orb of condensed light crackled and spread, filling every corner of the manor with its deadly rays. Flowers withered, insects shriveled, and fish died in their tanks. Not one cubic millimeter was spared. Artemis Fowl and his cohorts could not have escaped. It was impossible.

Holly sighed, turning away from the already dwindling blue-rinse. For all his grand designs, Artemis had been a mere mortal in the end. And for some reason she mourned his passing.

Root was more pragmatic. “Okay. Suit up. Full blackout gear.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” said Foaly. “Didn’t you ever listen in school?”

The commander snorted. “I trust science about as far as I could throw you, Foaly. Radiation has a habit of hanging around when certain scientists have assured us it has dissipated. No one steps outside the unit without blackout gear. So that counts you out, Foaly. Only bipedal suits. Anyway I want you on monitors, just in case. . . .”