“A clone.”
“Precisely,” said Foaly, plucking the hard copy from the printer. “She had herself cloned, and then your janitors waltzed her right out of here under your nose.”
“Oh dear.”
“Oh dear hardly covers it. Maybe now would be a good time to call the networks, or faint in awe.”
Argon took the second option, collapsing to the floor in a limp heap. The sudden evaporation of his dreams of fame and fortune was too much to handle all at once.
Foaly stepped over him and galloped all the way to Police Plaza.
E7, Southern Italy
Opal Koboi was having a hard time being patient. She had used up every last drop of her patience in the Argon Clinic. And now she wanted things to happen on her command. Unfortunately, a hundred million tons of hematite will only sink through the earth at sixteen feet per second, and there isn’t a lot anybody can do about it. Opal decided to pass the time by watching Holly Short die. That cretinous captain. Who did she think she was, with her crew cut and cute bow lips? Opal glanced at herself in a reflective surface. Now, there was real beauty. There was a face that deserved its own currency, and it was quite possible that she would soon have it.
“Mervall,” she snapped. “Bring me the Eleven Wonders disk. I need something to cheer me up.”
“Right away, Miss Koboi,” said Merv. “Would you like me to finish preparing the meal first, or bring you the disk directly.”
Opal rolled her eyes at her reflection. “What did I just say?”
“You said to bring you the disk.”
“So what do you think you should do, my dearest Mervall?”
“I think I should bring you the disk,” said Merv.
“Genius, Mervall. Pure genius.”
Merv left the shuttle’s kitchenette and ejected a disk from the recorder. The computer would have the film on its hard drive, but Miss Koboi liked to have her personal favorites on disk so she could be cheered up wherever she happened to be. Highlights from the past included her father’s nervous breakdown, the attack on Police Plaza, and Foaly bawling his eyes out in the LEP operation’s booth.
Merv handed the disk to Opal.
“And?” said the tiny pixie.
Merv was stumped for a moment, then he remembered. One of Opal’s new commandments was that the Brill brothers should bow when they approached their leader. He swallowed his pride and bowed low from the waist.
“Better. Now, weren’t you supposed to be preparing dinner?”
Merv retreated, still bowing. There was a lot of pride-swallowing going on around here in the last few hours. Opal was unhappy with the level of service and respect provided by the Brill brothers, and so she had drawn up a list of rules. These directives included the aforementioned bowing, never looking Opal in the eyes, going outside the shuttle to pass wind, and not thinking too loudly within ten feet of their employer.
“Because I know what you are thinking,” Opal had said, in a low tremulous voice. “I can see your thoughts swirling around your head. Right now, you’re marveling at how beautiful I am.”
“Uncanny,” gasped Merv, while traitorously wondering if there was a cuckoo flitting about her head at that very moment. Opal was going seriously off the rails with all this changing her species and world domination. Scant and himself would have deserted her by now, if she hadn’t promised that they could have Barbados when she was Queen of the Earth. That and the fact that if they deserted her now, Opal would add the Brill brothers to her vengeance list.
Merv retreated to the kitchen and continued with his efforts to prepare Miss Koboi’s food without actually touching it. Another new rule. Meanwhile, Scant was in the cargo bay checking the detonator relays on the last two shaped charges. One for the job, and one for backup. The charges were about the size of melons, but would make a much bigger mess if they exploded. He checked that the magnetic relay pods were secure on the casings. The relays were standard mining sparker units that would accept the signal from the remote detonator and send a neutron charge into the bellies of the charges.
Scant winked at his brother through the kitchen doorway.
Merv pursed his lips in silent imitation of a cuckoo. Scant nodded wearily. They were both getting tired of Opal’s outrageous behavior. Only the thought of drinking piña coladas on the beach in Barbados kept them going.
Opal, oblivious to all the discontent in her camp, popped the video disk into the multidrive. To watch one’s enemies die in glorious color and surround sound was surely one of the greatest advantages of technology. Several video windows opened on the screen. Each one represented the view from one of the hemisphere’s cameras.
Opal watched delightedly as Holly and Artemis were driven into the river by a pack of slobbering trolls. She oohed and aahed as they took refuge on the tiny island of corpses. Her tiny heart beat faster as they scaled the temple scaffolding. She was about to instruct Mervall to fetch her some chocolate truffles from the booty box to go with the movie, when the cameras blacked out.
“Mervall,” she squealed, wringing her delicate fingers. “Descant! Get in here.”
The Brill brothers rushed into the lounge, handguns drawn.
“Yes, Miss Koboi?” said Scant, laying the shaped charges down on a fur-covered lounger.
Opal covered her face. “Don’t look at me!” she ordered.
Scant lowered his eyes. “Sorry. No eye contact. I forgot.”
“And stop thinking that.”
“Yes, Miss Koboi. Sorry, Miss Koboi.” Scant had no idea what he was supposed to be thinking, so he tried to blank out everything.
Opal crossed her arms and tapped her fingers on her forearms until both brothers were bowed before her.
“Something has gone wrong,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Our Temple of Artemis cameras seem to have malfunctioned.”
Merv backed the footage up to the last image. In it the trolls were advancing on Artemis and Holly across the temple roof.
“It looks like they were done for anyway, Miss Koboi.”
“Yep,” agreed Scant. “No way out of that one.”
Opal cleared her throat. “Firstly, yep is not a word, and I will not be spoken to in slang. New rule. Secondly, I assumed that Artemis Fowl was dead once before, and I spent a year in a coma as a result. We must proceed as though Fowl and Short have survived and are on our trail.”
“With respect, Miss Koboi,” said Merv, directing the words at his own toes. “This is a stealth shuttle; we didn’t leave a trail.”
“Moron,” said Opal casually. “Our trail is on every television screen abov
eground, and doubtless below it. Even if Artemis Fowl were not a genius, he would guess that I am behind the Zito probe. We need to plant the final charge now. How deep is the probe?”
Scant consulted a computer readout. “One hundred miles. We have ninety minutes to go to the optimum blast point.”
Opal paced the deck for a few moments. “We have not picked up any communication with Police Plaza, so if they are alive they are alone. Best not to risk it. We will plant the charge now and guard it. Descant, check the casings again. Mervall, run a system’s check on the shuttle. I don’t want a single ion escaping through the hull.”
The pixie twins stepped backward, bowing as they went. They would do as they were told, but surely the boss was being a bit paranoid.
“I heard that thought,” screeched Opal. “I am not paranoid!”
Merv stepped behind a steel partition to shield his brain waves. Had Miss Koboi really intercepted the thought? Or was it just the paranoia again? After all, paranoid people usually believe that everyone thinks they are paranoid. Merv poked his head out from behind the partition and beamed a thought at Opal, just to be sure.
Holly Short is prettier than you, he thought as loudly as he could. A treasonous thought, to be sure. One Opal could hardly fail to pick up on if she could indeed read minds.
Opal stared at him. “Mervall?”
“Yes, Miss Koboi?”
“You’re looking directly at me. That’s very bad for my skin.”
“Sorry, Miss Koboi,” said Merv, averting his eyes. His eyes happened to glance through the cockpit windshield, toward the mouth of the chute. He was just in time to see an LEP shuttle rise through the holographic rock outcrop that covered the shuttlebay door. “Em, Miss Koboi, we have a problem.” He pointed out the windshield.
The shuttle had risen to thirty feet and was hovering above the Italian landscape, obviously searching for something.
“They’ve found us,” said Opal in a horrified whisper. Then she quelled her panic, quickly analyzing the situation.
“That is a transport shuttle, not a pursuit vehicle,” she noted, walking quickly into the cockpit, closely followed by the twins. “We must assume that Artemis Fowl and Captain Short are aboard. They have no weapons and only basic scanners. In this poor light we are virtually invisible to the naked eye. They are blind.”