The Eternity Code (Artemis Fowl 3)

Artemis handed Holly the thumb.

“Go,” he said. “Spiro’s time is running out. I’m right behind you.”

Holly took the thumb. “And if you’re not?”

“Then we go to plan B.”

Holly nodded slowly. “Let’s hope we don’t have to.”

“Let’s hope.”

Artemis strode into the vault. He ignored the fortune in jewels and bearer bonds, heading straight for the Cube’s Plexiglas prison. There were two bullish security guards blocking the way. Both men had oxygen masks strapped over their faces and were unnaturally still.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. Would either of you mind if I borrowed Mr. Spiro’s Cube?”

Neither man responded. Not so much as a flicker of an eyebrow. This was undoubtedly because of the paralytic gas in their oxygen tanks, concocted from the venom of a nest of Peruvian spiders. The gas was similar in chemical make-up to a salve used by South American natives as anesthetic.

Artemis keyed in the code, which Foaly was reciting in his ear, and the Plexiglas case slid open. The four sides of the Plexiglas box descended into the column on silent motors, leaving the C Cube unprotected. He reached out a hand for the box. . . .

Spiro’s bedroom

Holly climbed through the wardrobe into Spiro’s bedroom. The industrialist lay in the same position in which she had left him, his breath regular and normal. The stopwatch on Holly’s visor read 3:57 and counting. Just in time.

Holly unwrapped the thumb gingerly, aligning it with the rest of the digit. Spiro’s hand felt cold and unhealthy to her touch. She used the magnification filter in her visor to zoom in on the severed thumb. As close as she could figure, the two halves were lined up.

“Heal,” she said, and the magical sparks erupted from the tips of her fingers, sinking into the two halves of Spiro’s thumb. Threads of blue light stitched the dermis and epidermis together, fresh skin breaking through the old to conceal the cut. The thumb began to vibrate and bubble. Steam vented from the pores, forming a mist around Spiro’s hand. His arm shook violently, the shock traveling across his bony chest. Spiro’s back arched until Holly thought it would snap, then the industrialist collapsed onto the bed. Throughout the entire process, his heart never skipped a beat.

A few stray sparks skipped along Spiro’s body like stones on a pond, targeting the areas behind both ears, exactly where Artemis had been looking earlier. Curious, Holly pulled back one ear to reveal a crescent-shaped scar, rapidly being erased by the magic. There was a matching scar behind the other ear.

Holly used her visor to zoom in on one of the scars. “Foaly. What do you make of these?”

“Surgery,” replied the centaur. “Maybe our friend Spiro got himself a face lift. Or maybe . . .”

“Or maybe it’s not Spiro,” completed Holly, switching to Artemis’s channel. “Artemis. It’s not Spiro. It’s a double. Do you hear me? Respond, Artemis.”

Artemis didn’t reply. Maybe because he wouldn’t, maybe because he couldn’t.

The vault

Artemis reached out a hand for the box, and a false wall hissed back pneumatically. Behind it stood Jon Spiro and Arno Blunt. Spiro’s smile was so wide he could have swallowed a slice of watermelon.

He clapped his hands, jewelry jangling. “Bravo, Master Fowl. Some of us didn’t think you’d make it this far.”

Blunt took a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to Spiro.

“Thank you very much, Arno. I hope this teaches you not to bet against the house.”

Artemis nodded thoughtfully. “In the bedroom. That was a double.”

“Yes. Costa, my cousin. We’ve got the same-shaped head—one or two cuts and we could be peas in a pod.”

“So you set the gel scanner to accept his print.”

“For one night only. I wanted to see how far you’d get. You’re an amazing kid, Arty. No one has ever made it into the vault before, and you’d be amazed how many professionals have tried. There are obviously a few glitches in my system, something the security people will have to look at. How did you get in here anyway? You don’t appear to have Costa with you.”

“Trade secret.”

Spiro stepped down from a low platform. “No matter. We’ll review the tapes. There are bound to be a couple of cameras you couldn’t rig. One thing is for sure, you didn’t do it without help. Check him for an earpiece, Arno.”

It took Blunt less than five seconds to find the earpiece. He plucked it out triumphantly, crushing the tiny cylinder beneath his boot.

Spiro sighed. “I have no doubt, Arno, that that little electronic wonder was worth more than you will make in a lifetime. I don’t know why I keep you around. I really don’t.”

Blunt grimaced. His teeth were Plexiglas and half filled with blue oil. A macabre wave machine.

“Sorry, Mr. Spiro.”

“You will be sorrier still, my dentally challenged friend,” said Artemis. “Because Butler is coming.”

Blunt took an involuntary step backward.

“Don’t think that mumbo jumbo is scaring me. Butler is dead. I saw him go down.”

“Go down, perhaps. But did you see him die? If I remember the sequence of events correctly, after you shot Butler, he shot you.”

Blunt touched the sutures on his temple. “A lucky shot.”

“Lucky? Butler is a proud marksman. I wouldn’t say that to his face.”

Spiro laughed delightedly. “The kid is messing with your mind, Arno. Thirteen years old and he’s playing you like a grand piano in Carnegie Hall. Get yourself a spine, man, you’re supposed to be a professional.”

Blunt tried to pull himself together, but the ghost of Butler haunted his features.

Spiro plucked the C Cube from its cushion. “This is fun, Arty. All this tough talk and repartee, but it doesn’t mean anything. I win again, you’ve been outflanked. This has all been a game to me. Amusement. Your little operation has been most educational, if pathetic. But you gotta realize that it’s over now. You’re on your own, and I don’t have time for any more games!”

Artemis sighed, the picture of defeat. “All of this has been a lesson, hasn’t it? Just to show me who’s boss.”

“Exactly. It takes some people a while to learn. I find that the smarter the enemy, the bigger the ego. You had to realize that you were no match for me before you would do what I have asked.” Spiro placed a bony hand on the Irish boy’s shoulder. Artemis could feel the weight of his jewelry. “Now, listen carefully, kid. I want you to unlock this Cube. No more blarney. I never met a computer nerd yet who didn’t leave hi

mself a back door. You open this baby up now, or I’m gonna stop being amused, and believe me you don’t want that.”

Artemis took the blue Cube in both hands, staring at its flat screen. This was the delicate phase of his plan. Spiro had to believe that once again he had outmaneuvered Artemis Fowl.

“Do it, Arty. Do it now.”

Artemis ran a hand across his dry lips.

“Very well. I need a minute.”

Spiro patted his shoulder. “I’m a generous man. Take two.” He nodded at Blunt. “Stay close, Arno, I don’t want our little friend setting any more booby traps.”

Artemis sat at a stainless-steel table, exposing the Cube’s inner workings. He quickly manipulated a complicated bunch of fiber optics, removing one strand altogether. The LEP blocker. After less than a minute, he resealed the Cube.

Spiro’s eyes were wide with anticipation, and dreams of unlimited wealth danced in his brain.

“Good news, Arty. I want good news only.”

Artemis was more subdued now, as if the reality of his situation had finally eaten through his cockiness.

“I rebooted it. It’s working. Except . . .”

Spiro waved his hands. Bracelets tinkled like cat bells. “Except! This better be an itty-bitty except kinda thing.”

“It’s nothing. Hardly worth mentioning. I had to revert to version 1.0. Version 1.2 was coded strictly to my voice patterns; 1.0 is less secure, if a bit more temperamental.”

“Temperamental. You’re a box, not my grandmother, Cube.”

“I am not a box!” said Foaly, the Cube’s new voice, thanks to the removed blocker. “I am a marvel of artificial intelligence. I live, therefore I learn.”

“See what I mean?” said Artemis weakly. The centaur was going to blow it. Spiro’s suspicions must not be aroused at this stage.

Spiro glared at the Cube as though it were an underling.

“Are you gonna give me attitude, Mister?”

The Cube did not reply.

“You have to address it by name,” explained Artemis. “Otherwise it would answer every question within hearing distance of its sensors.”

“And what is its name?”