The Lost Colony (Artemis Fowl 5) - Page 36

He passed the napkin to Butler. “What do you think?”

Butler gave the message a summary glance. “I think he won’t try anything here. Too many cameras. If security doesn’t get him on film, a tourist will. If Kong goes for a double cross, it will be outside.”

“And by then it should be too late.”

“So we hope.”

The waitress returned with a bamboo tray, bearing a clay pot of tea and three glasses. Artemis took his time pouring himself some of the steaming liquid.

“How are you feeling, No1?”

“My leg hurts a bit.”

“The painkiller is wearing off. I’ll ask Butler to give you another shot later. Are you ready to go? Everything will be fine, I assure you.”

“All I have to do is open my hand?”

“As soon as we’re in the elevator.”

“That’s it. Do you want me to distract the bad man with some witty banter, like you do with Holly?”

“No. That won’t be necessary. Just open your hand.”

“Should I look scared?”

“That would be appropriate.”

“Good. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Butler was functioning in full-action mode. Generally, he reined himself in, walking with a slight stoop to avoid drawing attention. But now he stood tall and tensed, ready to spring into action. His gaze was fierce, and muscles bulged in his neck. He caught Billy Kong’s gaze and zeroed in on his eyeballs. Even across a crowded room, the hostility was palpable. A couple of psychically sensitive bystanders suddenly felt anxious and cast their eyes about for the nearest restroom.

When he was finished staring down Billy Kong, Butler knelt to give final instructions to No1.

“All you have to do is walk down to that table with the reserved sign. Wait until Minerva gets there, then continue on to Kong. If they hustle you out straightaway, count to twenty then open your hand. If they wait for us to leave, open your hand when the elevator doors have closed. Understand?”

“I understand everything. In any language you care to speak in.”

“Are you set?”

No1 took a deep breath. He could feel his tail vibrating anxiously. He had been in a bit of a daze since the time tunnel. How could anyone take all of this in? Skyscrapers, for heaven’s sake. Buildings that actually scraped the sky.

“I’m set,” he said.

“Off you go, then. Good luck.”

No1 began his long lonely walk back into captivity. Scores of humans thronged around him, excited, sweating, chewing things, pointing machines at one another.

Those would be cameras, I suppose.

The noon sun flashed through the ceiling-to-floor windows, catching on the silver of the mass damper, lighting it up like a disco ball. The tabletops loomed just above head height. Waiters and waitresses bustled past with loaded trays. Glasses fell, children screamed.

Too many people, thought No1. I miss demons. Even Abbot. Well, okay, maybe not Abbot.

No1 reached the reserved table. He had to stand on tippytoes to see the folded piece of card with the word printed on it. He lifted the flap on his bonnet to get a clear look. He was beginning to realize that a muumuu and bonnet were not typical Mud Child garb, as Artemis had told him.

This is a terrible disguise. I look like a freak. Surely someone will see that I am not human. I wish I could shield, like Holly.

Unfortunately, even if No1 could control his burgeoning magical powers, shielding had never been a weapon in the demon warlock arsenal.

No1 took a step to the right, squinting past the glare of the giant mass damper. Minerva was on her way down, taking small careful steps toward the reserved table. Behind her, Kong leaned forward in his seat, toes tapping with excitement and anticipation. He was like a dog on a leash with the scent of a fox in his nose.

Minerva arrived. She lifted the brim of No1’s bonnet to check it was him.

“It’s not my bonnet,” said No1. “And this is certainly not my muumuu.”

Minerva took his hand. Before the abduction she had been eighty percent genius and twenty percent twelve-year-old girl. Now it was about fifty-fifty. “I’m sorry for everything. For tying you up, and the rest. I thought you would try to eat me.”

“We’re not all savages,” said No1. “And my wrists did hurt for ages. But I forgive you, I suppose. As long as your tying-up days are over.”

“Over. Yes. I promise.” Minerva looked over No1’s head toward Artemis’s table. “Why is he helping me? Do you know?”

No1 shrugged. “I’m not sure. Holly, our friend, said it was something about puberty. Apparently you’re pretty, though to be honest, I can’t see it myself.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a whistle from farther down the bar. Billy Kong was growing impatient. The ex-Paradizo employee beckoned No1 on with his index finger.

“I should go. Leave. Depart.”

Minerva nodded. “Okay. Be careful. I will see you soon. Where is it? In your hand?”

“Yes,” said No1 automatically, then, “how did you know?”

Minerva walked on slowly. “Genius. Can’t help it.”

This place is littered with genii, thought No1. I just hope Mr. Kong isn’t another one.

He continued on his way, being careful to keep his feet and hands inside the muumuu. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a panic by exposing his gray stumpy digits.

Although, perhaps the humans would bow down and adore him. After all, he was incredibly handsome compared to their own gangly males.

Billy Kong was all smiles when No1 reached the table. On his face, a smile looked like the first symptom of a disease. His hair was spiked in perfect points. Even in the middle of a kidnapping, Kong still made time for his hair. Good grooming says a lot about a person.

“Welcome back, demon,” he said, grabbing a hank of the muumuu. “So nice to see you. If it is you. . . .”

“If it is me?” said No1, confused. “Me is all I can be.”

“Excuse me if I don’t take your word for it,” snorted Kong, tugging back the bonnet frill for a quick peek at No1’s face. “If that Fowl kid is half as smart as I’ve heard, then he’s sure to be trying something.”

Kong examined the imp’s face, poking the plate on his forehead, pulling back his lips to check the pink gums and square white teeth. Finally he traced the rune on No1’s forehead with his finger to make sure it wasn’t painted on.

“Satisfied?”

“Pretty much. I guess little Artemis didn’t have time to do a switch. I ran him too hard.”

“You ran us all too hard,” complained No1. “We had to fly here in a machine. I saw the moon close up.”

“You’re breaking my heart, demon. After what you did to my brother, you’re lucky to be alive. Something I hope to remedy in the next few minutes.”

No1 twisted his head to catch a glimpse of the elevators. Artemis, Butler, and Minerva were two steps away from the doors.

“Don’t look at them. They can’t help you. Nobody can help you.”

Kong clicked his fingers, and a muscular man joined them at the table. He was hefting a large metal suitcase.

“In case you’re wondering, this is a bomb. You know what a bomb is, don’t you?”

“Bomb,” said No1. “Explosive. Incendiary device.” His eyes widened. “But that could hurt someone. A lot of someones.”

“Exactly. Not humans, though. Demons. I am going to strap this on to you, set the timer, then send you back to your island. The blast should at the very least put a big dent in the demon population. You won’t be crossing over here for your little nighttime hunts for quite a while.”

“I won’t do it,” said No1, actually stamping his foot.

Kong laughed. “Are you sure you’re a demon? From what I hear, the last one was more . . . demonic.”

“I am a demon. A warlock demon.”

Kong leaned close enough for No1 to smell his citrus aftershave. “Well, little Mr. Warlock,

maybe you can turn this bomb into a bunch of flowers, but I doubt it.”

“I don’t have to do anything, because you can’t make me go back to Hybras.”

Kong took a set of handcuffs from his pocket. “On the contrary. I know exactly what to do. I picked up a thing or two in the Chateau. All we have to do is dig that silver slug out of your leg, and Hybras will suck you home.”

No1 glanced again toward the elevator. The doors were closing on his new friends.

“You mean this silver slug?” he asked, showing Kong what had been concealed in his hand.

“He took it out,” breathed Billy Kong. “Fowl took out the slug.”

“Took it out,” agreed No1. “Extracted. Removed.”

Then he dropped the silver nugget and disappeared.

Tags: Eoin Colfer Artemis Fowl Fantasy
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