Artemis Fowl (Artemis Fowl 1)

“Thank you, Artemis. We were in trouble for a moment there. If it hadn’t been for the captain . . .”

Artemis nodded. “Yes. I saw. Healing, one of the fairy arts. I wonder why she did it.”

“I wonder too,” said Butler softly. “We certainly didn’t deserve it.”

Artemis glanced up sharply. “Keep the faith, old friend. The end is in sight.”

Butler nodded; he even attempted a smile. But even though there were plenty of teeth in the grin, there was no heart.

“In less than an hour, Captain Short will be back with her people and we will have sufficient funds to relaunch some of our more tasteful enterprises.”

“I know. It’s just . . .”

Artemis didn’t have to ask. He knew exactly what Butler was feeling. The fairy had saved both their lives and yet he insisted on holding her to ransom. To a man of honor like Butler, this was almost more than he could bear.

“The negotiations are over. One way or another she will be returned to her kind. No harm will befall Captain Short. You have my word.”

“And Juliet?”

“Yes?”

“Is there any danger to my sister?”

“No. No danger.”

“The fairies are just going to give us this gold and walk away?”

Artemis snorted gently. “No, not exactly. They’re going to bio-bomb Fowl Manor the second Captain Short is clear.”

Butler took a breath to speak, but hesitated. Obviously there was more to the plan. Master Fowl would tell him when he needed to know. So instead of quizzing his employer, he made a simple statement.

“I trust you, Artemis.”

“Yes,” replied the boy, the weight of that trust etched on his brow. “I know.”

Cudgeon was doing what politicians did best: trying to duck responsibility.

“Your officer helped the humans,” he blurted, mustering as much indignation as possible. “The entire operation was proceeding exactly as planned, until your female attacked our deputy.”

“Deputy?” chortled Foaly. “Now the troll’s a deputy.”

“Yes. He is. And that human made mincemeat of him. This entire situation could be wrapped up if it wasn’t for your department’s incompetence.”

Ordinarily, Root would have blown his top at this point, but he knew that Cudgeon was grasping at straws, desperately trying to save his career. So the commander just smiled.

“Hey, Foaly?”

“Yes, Commander?”

“Did we get the troll assault on disk?”

The centaur heaved a dramatic sigh. “No, sir, we ran out of disks just before the troll went in.”

“What a pity.”

“A real shame.”

“Those disks could have been invaluable to Acting Commander Cudgeon at his hearing.”

Cudgeon’s cool went out the window. “Give me those disks, Julius! I know they’re in there! This is blatant obstruction.”

“You’re the only one guilty of obstruction around here, Cudgeon. Using this affair to further your own career.”

Cudgeon’s face took on a hue to match Root’s own. The situation was slipping away from him and he knew it. Even Chix Verbil and the other sprites were sidling out from behind their leader.

“I am still in charge here, Julius, so hand over those disks or I will have you detained.”

“Oh, really? You and whose army?”

For a second Cudgeon’s face glowed with the old pomposity. It evaporated the moment he noticed the conspicuous lack of officers at his shoulders.

“That’s right,” snickered Foaly. “You ain’t Acting Commander any more. The call came through from below. You’ve got an appointment with the Council, and I don’t think it’s to offer you a seat.”

It was probably Foaly’s grin that drove Cudgeon over the edge.

“Give me those disks!” he roared, pinning Foaly to the operation’s shuttle.

Root was tempted to let them wrestle for a while, but now wasn’t the time to indulge himself.

“Naughty naughty,” he said, pointing his index finger at Cudgeon. “No one beats Foaly but me.”

Foaly paled. “Careful with that finger. You’re still wearing the—”

Root’s thumb accidentally brushed his knuckle, opening a tiny gas valve. The released gas propelled a tranquilized dart through the latex fingertip and straight into Cudgeon’s neck. The Acting Commander, soon to be Private, sank like a stone.

Foaly rubbed his neck. “Nice shot, Commander.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Total accident. I forgot all about the fake finger. There are several precedents, I believe.”

“Oh, absolutely. Unfortunately Cudgeon will be unconscious for several hours. By the time he awakens, all the excitement will be over.”

“Shame.” Root allowed himself a fleeting grin, then it was back to business. “Is the gold here?”

“Yep, they just in

serted it.”

“Good.” He called to Cudgeon’s sheepish troops. “Get it loaded on a hovertrolley, and send it in. Any trouble and I’ll feed you your wings. Understood?”

No one actually replied, but it was understood. No doubt about it.

“Good. Now hop to it.”

Root disappeared into the operation’s shuttle, Foaly clopping behind him. The Commander shut the door firmly.

“Is it armed?”

The centaur flicked a few important-looking switches on the main console.

“It is now.”

“I want it launched as soon as possible.” He glanced through the laserproof refractor glass. “We’re down to minutes here. I see sunlight poking through.”

Foaly bent to his keyboard in earnest. “The magic is breaking up. In fifteen minutes we’re going to be in the middle of overground daytime. The neutrino streams are losing their integrity.”

“I see,” said Root, which was basically a lie again. “Okay, I don’t see. But I do get the fifteen minutes bit. That gives you ten minutes to get Captain Short out of there. After that we’re going to be sitting ducks for the entire human race.”

Foaly activated yet another camera. This one was linked to the hovertrolley. He ran a finger experimentally across a trackpad. The trolley shot forward, almost decapitating Chix Verbil.

“Nice driving,” muttered Root. “Will it get up the steps?”

Foaly didn’t even look up from his computers.

“Automatic clearance compensator. A five-foot collar. No problems.”

Root speared him with a glare. “You do that just to annoy me, don’t you?”

Foaly shrugged his shoulders. “I might.”

“Yes, well, count yourself lucky my other fingers aren’t loaded. Get my meaning?”

“Yessir.”

“Good. Now let’s bring Captain Short home.”

Holly hovered beneath the portico. Orange shards of light striped the blue. The time-stop was breaking up. There were only minutes left before Root blue-rinsed the whole place. Foaly’s voice buzzed in her earpiece.

“Okay, Captain Short. The gold is on the way. Be ready to move.”