Holly glanced guiltily at the screen. Root gestured at her to continue.
“I won’t tell. It will be just between us.”
“Butler hid a capsule in the maze.”
“And?”
“I sent myself an e-mail. But I expect Foaly to find that. It’s to throw him off guard.”
“Very clever. Is there anything you don’t expect him to find?”
Artemis smiled craftily. “Butler bu
ried a capsule in the grounds, and I hid a file on an Internet storage site. Foaly’s data charge won’t affect it. The provider will mail me a reminder in six months. When I retrieve the data, it should trigger residual memories and possibly total recall.”
“Anything else?”
“No. The storage site is our last hope. If the centaur finds that, then the fairy world is lost to me forever.”
Root’s image crackled on the screen. “Okay. The uplink is breaking up. Knock them out and wipe them. Tape the whole process. I won’t believe Artemis is out of the game until I see the footage.”
“Commander. Maybe I should ask the others a few questions.”
“Negative, Captain. Fowl said it himself. The storage site was their last hope. Hook them up and run the program.”
The Commander’s image disappeared in waves of static.
“Yes, sir.” Holly turned to the technical crew. “You heard the fairy. Let’s go. Sunup is in a couple of hours. I want us belowground before that.”
The tecchies checked that the electrodes had strong contacts, then unwrapped three sets of sleep goggles.
“I’ll do that,” said Holly, taking the masks.
She hooked the elastic over Juliet’s ponytail. “You know something?” she said. “Personal protection is a cold business. You have too much heart for it.”
Juliet nodded slowly. “I’ll try to hold on to that thought.”
Holly settled the eyepieces gently.
“I’ll keep an eye on you.”
Juliet smiled. “See you in my dreams.”
Holly pressed a small button on the sleep mask, and a combination of hypno-lights in the eyepieces and a sedative administered through the seals knocked Juliet out in less than five seconds.
Butler was next. The technical crew had added a length of elastic to the mask’s strap, so that it could encircle his shaven crown.
“Make sure Foaly doesn’t go crazy with that mind wiper,” said the bodyguard. “I don’t want to wake up with four decades of nothing in my head.”
“Don’t worry,” said Holly reassuringly. “Foaly generally knows what he’s doing.”
“Good. Remember, if the People ever do need help. I’m available.”
Holly pressed the button.
“I’ll remember that,” she whispered.
Artemis was last in the line. In his mesmerized state, he seemed almost peaceful. For once there were no thought lines wrinkling his brow, and if Holly hadn’t known him, he could almost seem like a normal thirteen-year-old human.
Holly turned to Foaly. “Are you sure about this?”
The centaur shrugged. “What choice do we have? Orders are orders.”
Holly placed the mask over Artemis’s eyes and pushed the button. Seconds later the teenager slumped in his chair. Immediately, lines of Gnommish text began to flash across the screen behind him. In the days of Frond, Gnommish had been written in spirals. But reading in spirals gave most fairies migraine.
“Commence deleting,” ordered Foaly. “But keep a copy. Sometime when I have a few weeks off I’m going to find out what makes this guy tick.”
Holly watched Artemis’s life being written in green symbols on the screen.
“This doesn’t feel right,” she commented. “If he found us once, he could find us again. Especially if he goes back to being the monster he was.”
Foaly tapped commands into an ergodynamic keyboard. “Maybe. But next time we’ll be ready.”
Holly sighed. “It’s a pity, because we were almost friends.”
The centaur snorted. “Sure. Like you can be friends with a viper.”
Holly suddenly shut her helmet visor, hiding her eyes.
“You’re right, of course. We could never have been friends. It was circumstance that pushed us together, nothing more.”
Foaly patted her shoulder. “That’s the girl. Keep your ears up. Where are you going?”
“Tara,” replied Holly. “I’m going to fly. I need the fresh air.”
“You don’t have clearance for a flight,” objected Foaly. “Root will have your badge.”
“For what?” said Holly, firing up her wings. “I’m not supposed to be here, remember?”
And she was gone, flying in a lazy loop through the entrance hall. She cleared the main door with inches to spare, climbing quickly into the night sky. For a second her slim frame was backlit by the full moon, and then she disappeared, vibrating out of the visible spectrum.
Foaly watched her go. Emotional creatures, elves. In some respects they made the worst Recon operatives. All decisions were made from the heart. But Root would never fire Holly, because policing was what she was born to do. And anyway, who else would save the People if Artemis Fowl ever found them again?
Mulch sat in the shuttle’s holding booth feeling extremely sorry for himself. He tried to sit on the bench without actually touching it with his tender behind. Not an easy task.
Things did not look good, it had to be said. Even after all he’d done for the LEP, they were going to lock him up for at least a decade. Just for stealing a few measly bars of gold. And it didn’t seem likely that he’d get an opportunity to escape. He was surrounded by steel and laser bars, and would remain so until the shuttle docked in Haven. After that, it was a quick jaunt to Police Plaza, a summary hearing and off to a secure facility until his beard turned gray. Which it would, if he was forced to spend more than five years out of the tunnels.
But there was hope. A tiny glimmer. Mulch forced himself to wait until all the technical staff had cleared their equipment from the shuttle, then he casually opened his right hand, rubbing his temples with thumb and forefinger. What he was actually doing was reading the tiny note concealed in his palm. The one slipped to him by Artemis Fowl when they shook hands.
I have not finished with you yet, Mulch Diggums. On your return, tell your lawyer to check the date on the original search warrant for your cave. When you are released keep your nose clean for a couple of years. Then bring the medallion to me. Together we will be unstoppable.
Your friend and benefactor,
Artemis Fowl II
Mulch crumpled the note. He made a cylinder of his fingers, and sucked the paper into his mouth. His dwarf molars quickly destroyed the evidence.
Mulch breathed deeply through his nose. It wasn’t time to pop the Skaylian rock-worm wine cork just yet. A review of his case could take months, possibly years. But there was hope.
The dwarf wrapped his fingers around Artemis’s medallion. Together they would be unstoppable.
EPILOGUE
Artemis Fowl’s diary, disk 1 (encrypted)
I have decided to keep a diary. In fact, I am surprised that the idea has never occurred to me before. An intellect such as mine should be documented, so that future generations of Fowls can take advantage of my brilliant ideas.
Of course, I must be careful with such a document. As valuable as it would be to my descendants, it would be more valuable to the law enforcement agents who are forever trying to gather evidence against me.
It is even more important that I keep this journal a secret from my father. He is not himself since his escape from Russia. He has become obsessed with nobility and heroism. Abstract concepts at best. As far as I know, nobility and heroism are not accepted by any of the world’s major banks. The family’s fortune is in my hands, and I will preserve it in the way I always have, through ingenious plots. Most of these plots will be illegal. The best always are. Real profit lies in the shadowy areas beyond the law.
I have decided however, out of respect for my parents’ values, to change my criteria for victim selection. It would seem better for the world’s ecology if several global corporations went bankrupt, and so I have resolved to help them on their way. Not victimless crimes, but ones where few tears will be shed for the injured parties. This does not mean that I have become a weak, latter-day Robin Hood—far from it. I intend to reap substantial benefits from my crimes.
My fat
her is not the only one to have changed. Butler has grown old almost overnight. His appearance is the same as ever, but he has slowed down considerably, no matter how he tries to hide it. But I will not replace him. He has been a loyal employee and his expertise in matters of intelligence will be invaluable. Perhaps Juliet will accompany me when actual protection is needed, though she now claims that a life in personal protection is not for her. Next week she travels to the United States to try out for a wrestling team. Apparently she has chosen Jade Princess as her stage name. I can only hope that she fails the audition. Though I doubt it. She is a Butler, after all.
Of course I have some ongoing ventures which I can work on without the aid of a bodyguard. In recent years I have developed software to divert funds from various bank accounts to my own. This software will have to be upgraded to stay ahead of the computer-crime squads. Version 2.0 should be online within six months. Then there is my talent for art forgery. In the past I have favored the Impressionists, but now for some reason I am drawn to more fantastical subject matter, such as the fairy creatures depicted by Arthur Rackham. But these projects must be suspended temporarily, for today I discovered that I am the victim of a conspiracy.
The day began strangely. When I awoke, I experienced an instant of weakness. For a single moment before I opened my eyes I felt content, my drive to accumulate wealth forgotten. This has never happened before. Perhaps the mood was left over from some magical dream, or perhaps my father’s newfound positive attitude is contagious. Whatever the cause, I must be careful to avoid such lapses in the future. With my father in his current frame of mind, this is no time to lose my resolve. I must remain as driven as always. Crime is the way forward for the Fowls. Aurum Est Potestas.
Minutes later, a greater mystery presented itself. As I washed my face at the basin, two tiny objects fell from my eyes. Close examination in the lab revealed them to be semi-corroded tinted contact lenses. Not only that, but a mirrored layer had been added behind the tinted lens. Ingenious. Undoubtedly the work of a master craftsman. But to what purpose? It is strange, but even though I have no knowledge of these lenses or how they came to be in my eyes, I feel the answer is somewhere in my own brain. Hidden in the shadows.