The Arctic Incident (Artemis Fowl 2)

Mulch shrugged. “Hey, I’m a thief. What did you expect, I’d start a shelter?”

Artemis cleared his throat. “This reunion is all very touching. But while you’re exchanging witticisms, my father is freezing in the Arctic.”

The dwarf zipped up his suit. “His father? You want me to rescue Artemis Fowl’s father? In the Arctic?” There was real fear in his voice. Dwarfs hated ice almost as much as fire.

Root shook his head. “I wish it were that simple, and in a few minutes so will you.”

Mulch’s beard hairs curled in apprehension. And as his grandmother always said, Trust the hair, Mulch, trust the hair.

CHAPTER 12

THE BOYS ARE BACK

Operations Booth

Foaly was thinking. Always thinking. His mind popped off ideas like corn in a microwave. But he couldn’t do anything with them. He couldn’t even call up Julius and pester him with his harebrained schemes. Fowl’s laptop seemed to be the centaur’s only weapon. It was like trying to fight a troll with a toothpick.

Not that the human computer was without some merit, in an ancient-history kind of a way. The e-mail had already proved useful. Provided there was anybody alive to answer it. There was also a small camera mounted on the lid, for video conferencing. Something the Mud Men had only come up with recently. Until then, humans had communicated purely through text or sound waves. Foaly tutted.

Barbarians. But this camera was pretty high quality, with several filter options. If the centaur didn’t know better, he’d swear someone had been leaking fairy technology.

Foaly swiveled the laptop with his hoof, pointing the camera toward the screens. Come on Cudgeon, he thought. Smile for the birdie.

He didn’t have long to wait. Within minutes a com screen flickered into life, and Cudgeon appeared, waving a white flag.

“Nice touch,” commented Foaly sarcastically.

“I thought so,” smiled the elf, waving the pennant theatrically. “I’m going to need this later.”

Cudgeon pressed a button on the remote control.

“Why don’t I show you what’s going on outside?”

The windows cleared to reveal several squads of technicians feverishly trying to break the booth’s defenses. Most were aiming computer sensors at the booth’s various interfaces, but some were doing it the old-fashioned way, whacking the sensors with big hammers. None were having any luck.

Foaly swallowed. He was a rat in a trap.

“Why don’t you fill me in on your plan, Briar? Isn’t that what the power-crazed villain usually does?”

Cudgeon settled back into his swivel chair.

“Certainly, Foaly. Because this isn’t one of your precious human movies. There will be no hero rushing in at the last moment. Short and Root are already dead. As are their human partners. No reprieve, no rescue. Just certain death.”

Foaly knew he should be feeling sadness, but hatred was all he could find.

“Just when things are at their most desperate, I shall instruct Opal to return weapons control to the LEP. The B’wa Kell will be rendered unconscious, and you will be blamed for the entire affair, providing you survive, which I doubt.”

“When the B’wa Kell recover, they will name you.”

Cudgeon wagged a finger. “Only a handful know I am involved, and I shall take care of them personally. They have already been summoned to Koboi Labs. I shall join them shortly. The DNA cannons are being calibrated to reject goblin strands. When the time comes, I shall activate them, and the entire squadron will be out for the count.”

“And then, Opal Koboi becomes your empress, I suppose?”

“Of course,” said Cudgeon aloud. But then he manipulated the remote’s keyboard, making certain they were on a secure channel.

“Empress?” he breathed. “Really, Foaly. Do you think I’d go to all this trouble to share power? Oh no, as soon as this charade is over Miss Koboi will have a tragic accident. Perhaps several tragic accidents.”

Foaly bristled. “At the risk of sounding clichéd, Briar, you’ll never get away with this.”

Cudgeon’s finger hovered over the terminate button.

“Well, if I don’t,” he said pleasantly, “you won’t be alive to gloat this time.”

And he was gone, leaving the centaur to sweat it out in the booth. Or so Cudgeon thought.

Foaly reached below the desk to the laptop.

“And cut,” he murmured, pausing the camera. “Take five, people, that’s a wrap.”

Chute E116

Holly clamped the shuttle on the wall of a disused chute.

“We’ve got about thirty minutes. Internal sensors says there’s a flare coming up here in half an hour, and no shuttle is built to withstand that kind of heat.”

They gathered in the pressurized lounge to put together a plan. All eyes naturally turned to Artemis. “As I said, we need to break into Koboi Labs and regain control of the LEP weaponry.”

Mulch was out of his chair and heading for the door.

“No way, Julius. That place has been upgraded since I was there. I heard they’ve got DNA-coded cannons.”

Root grabbed the dwarf by the scruff of his neck.

“One: don’t call me Julius. And two: you’re acting as if you have a choice, convict.”

Mulch glared at him. “I do have a choice, Julius. I can just serve out my sentence in a nice little cell. Putting me in the line of fire is a violation of my civil rights.”

Root’s facial tones alternated from pastel pink to turnip purple.

“Civil rights!” he spluttered. “You’re talking to me about civil rights! Isn’t that just typical.”

Then, strangely, he calmed down. In fact, he seemed almost happy. Those who were close to the commander knew that when he was happy, somebody else was about to be extremely sad.

“What?” a

sked Mulch suspiciously.

Root lit one of his noxious fungus cigar.

“Oh, nothing. Just that you’re right, that’s all.”

The dwarf squinted. “I’m right? You’re saying, in front of witnesses, that I’m right.”

“Certainly you are. Putting you in the line of fire would violate every right in the book. So instead of cutting you the fantastic deal that I was about to offer, I’m going to add a couple of centuries to your sentence and throw you in maximum security.” Root paused, blowing a cloud of smoke at Mulch’s face. “In Howler’s Peak.”

Mulch paled beneath the mud caking his cheeks. “Howler’s Peak? But that’s a—”

“A goblin prison,” said the commander. “I know. But for an obvious escape risk such as yourself, I don’t think I’d have any trouble convincing the board to make an exception.”

Mulch dropped into the padded gyro chair. This wasn’t good. The last time he’d been in a cell with goblins, it hadn’t been any fun. And that had been in Police Plaza. He wouldn’t last a week in the general population.

“So what was this deal?”

Artemis smiled, fascinated. Commander Root was smarter than he looked. Then again, it would be almost impossible not to be.

“Oh, now you’re interested?

“I might be. No promises.”

“Okay, here it is. One-time offer. Don’t even bother bargaining. You get us into Koboi Labs, and I give you a two-day head start when this is over.”

Mulch swallowed. That was a good offer. They must be in a whole lot of trouble.

Police Plaza, Haven City

Things were heating up at Police Plaza. The monsters were at the door. Literally. Captain Kelp was running between stations, trying to reassure his men.

“Don’t worry, people, they can’t get through those doors with softnoses. Nothing less than some kind of missile ...”

At that moment a tremendous force buckled the main doors, like a child blowing up a paper bag. They held. Barely.

Cudgeon came rushing out of the tactical room, his commander’s acorns glinting on his breast. With his reinstatement by the Council, he had made history by becoming the only Commander in the LEP to have been appointed twice.