“A nano-wafer,” said Foaly, forgetting for once to hide how impressed he was. “An honest-to-gods nano-wafer. Smart?”
“Extremely,” confirmed Artemis. “Smart enough to know which way is up when it hits the surface and configure itself to insulate the ice and reflect the sun.”
“So we impregnate the cloud province?”
“Exactly, to its capacity.”
Foaly clopped into the holographic weather. “Then when it ruptures, we have coverage.”
“Incremental, true, but effective nonetheless.”
“Mud Boy, I salute you.”
Artemis smiled, his old self for a moment. “Well, it’s about time.”
Vinyáya interrupted the science lovefest. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight: you shoot these wafers into the clouds and then they come down with the snow?”
“Precisely. We could shoot them directly on to the surface in dire cases, but I think for security it would be best to have the seeders hovering and shielded above the cloud cover.”
“And you can do this?”
“We can do it. The Council would have to approve an entire fleet of modified shuttles, not to mention a monitoring station.”
Holly thought of something. “These wafers don’t look much like snowflakes. Sooner or later some human with a microscope is going to notice the difference.”
“Good point, Holly. Perhaps I shouldn’t lump you in with the rest of the LEP as regards intellect.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“When the wafers are discovered, as they inevitably will be, I will launch an Internet campaign that explains them away as a by-product from a chemical plant in Russia. I will also point out that for once our waste is actually helping the environment and volunteer to fund a program that will extend their coverage.”
“Is there a pollution factor?” asked Vinyáya.
“Hardly. The wafers are entirely biodegradable.”
Foaly was excited. He clip-clopped through the hologram, squinting at the enlarged wafer.
“It sounds good. But is it really? You hardly expect the People to stump up the massive and ongoing budget for such a project without proof, Artemis. For all we know, it’s one of your scams.”
Artemis opened a file on the screen. “Here are my financial records. I know they are accurate, Foaly, because I found them on your server.”
Foaly did not even bother blushing. “They look about right.”
“I am prepared to invest everything I have in this project. That should keep five shuttles in the air for a couple of years. There will be profit on the back end, naturally, when the wafers go into production. I should recoup my investment then, perhaps even turn a respectable profit.”
Foaly almost gagged. Artemis Fowl putting his own money into a project. Incredible.
“Of course, I hardly expect the People to take anything I say on face value. After all, I have been”—Artemis cleared his throat—“somewhat less than forthcoming with information in the past.”
Vinyáya laughed humorlessly. “Less than forthcoming? I think you’re being a little gentle on yourself, for a kidnapper and extortionist, Artemis. Less than forthcoming?
Please. I find myself buying your pitch, but not everybody on the Council is as charitable toward you.”
“I accept your criticism and your skepticism, which is why I have organized a demonstration.”
“Excellent,” said Foaly eagerly. “Of course there’s a demonstration. Why else would you have brought us here?”
“Why else indeed.”
“More extortion and kidnapping?” suggested Vinyáya archly.
“That was a long time ago,” blurted Holly, in a tone she would not usually take with a superior officer. “I mean . . . that was a long time ago . . . Commander. Artemis has been a good friend to the People.”
Holly Short thought specifically of a close call during the goblin rebellion when Artemis Fowl’s actions had saved her life and many more besides. Vinyáya apparently remembered the goblin rebellion too. “Okay. Benefit-of-the-doubt time, Fowl. You’ve got twenty minutes to convince us.”
Artemis patted his breast pocket five times to check on his phone.
“It shouldn’t take more than ten,” he said.
Holly Short was a trained hostage negotiator, and found that in spite of the importance of the topic, she was rapidly shifting focus away from nano-wafers and toward Artemis Fowl’s mannerisms. Though she commented occasionally as the demonstration progressed, it was all she could do not to cradle Artemis’s face in her hands and ask him what was the matter.
I would have to stand on a chair to reach his face, Holly realized. My friend is almost a grown man now. A fully fledged human. Perhaps he is fighting his natural-born bloodthirsty desires and the conflict is driving him crazy.
Holly studied Artemis closely. He was pale, more so than usual, like a creature of the night. A snow wolf maybe. The sharp cheekbones and triangular length of his face added to this impression. And perhaps it was frost, but Holly thought she could see a streak of gray at his temples.
He seems old. Foaly was right: Artemis looks beaten.
Then there was the number thing. And the touching. Artemis’s fingers were never still. At first it seemed random, but on a hunch, Holly counted, and soon the pattern was clear. Fives or multiples of five.
D’Arvit, she thought. Atlantis Complex.
She ran a quick search on Wicca-pedia and came across a brief summary:
Atlantis Complex (at-lan-tis kom-pleks) is a psychosis common among guilt-ridden criminals, first diagnosed by Dr. E. Dypess of the Atlantis Brainology Clinic. Other symptoms include obsessive behavior, paranoia, delusions, and in extreme cases multiple personality disorder. Dr. E. Dypess is also known for his hit song, “I’m in Two Minds About You.”
Holly thought that this last bit was possibly Wiccahumor.
Foaly had reached the same conclusion about Artemis, and said as much in a text message he buzzed over to Holly’s helmet, which sat on the table before her. Holly tapped her visor to reverse the readout then read the words.
Our boy is obsessing. Atlantis?
Holly called up a Gnommish keyboard on the visor and typed, slowly, so as not to attract attention.
Maybe. Fives? She sent the message. Yes, fives. Classic symptom.
Then seconds later.
A demonstration! Fab. I ? demonstrations.
Holly managed to keep a straight face in case Artemis happened to stop counting long enough to glance her way. Foaly could never concentrate on anything for very long, unless it was one of his beloved projects.
Must be a genius thing.
It seemed as though the Icelandic elements held their breath for Artemis’s demonstration. The dull air was cut with a haze that hung in sheets like rows of laundered gauze.
The fairy folk felt their suit thermocoils vibrate a little as they followed Artemis outside to the rear of the restaurant. The back of the Adam Adamsson establishment was even less impressive than the front. Whatever lackadaisical effort had been applied to making the Great Skua hospitable obviously did not extend to the back of the building. A whale mural, which looked like Adamsson had painted it himself using a live Arctic fox for a brush, stopped abruptly over the service entrance, decapitating an unfortunate humpback. And in several spots, large sections of plaster had split from the wall and been tramped into the mud and snow.
Artemis led the small group to a tarpaulin, which had been pegged over a large cube.
Foaly snorted. “Let me guess. Looks like a common garden tarpaulin, but is actually cam foil with rear projection set to look like tarp?”
Artemis took two more steps before answering, then nodded toward everyone to fix them in their places. A bead of sweat ran down his back, generated by the stress of losing his battle to obsessive behavior.
“No, Foaly. It looks like a tarpaulin because it is a tarpaulin,” he said, then added, “Yes, a tarpaulin.”
Foaly blinked. “Yes, a tarpaulin? Are we in one of your Gilbert and Sullivan operettas now?” He threw his head back and sang, “‘I am a centaur, yes, a centaur is what I am.’ It’s not like you to wax, Artemis.”
“Foaly is singing,” said Holly. “Surely that’s illegal?”
Vinyáya snapped her fingers. “Quiet, children. Contain your natural disruptive urges. I am most eager to see these nano-wafers in action before taking a shuttle closer to the warm core of our planet.”
Artemis bowed slightly. “Thank you, Commander, most kind.”
Five again, thought Holly. The evidence mounts.
Artemis Fowl twirled a hand at Holly Short as though introducing himself to a theater audience. “Captain, perhaps you would remove the cloth. You have an aptitude for taking things apart.”
Holly was almost thrilled to have something to do. She would have preferred to have a serious talk with Artemis, but at least tackling a crate did not involve ingesting more scientific facts.