The Eternity Code (Artemis Fowl 3)

“The call came from a cryogenics institute in London. Sentinel quality is not enough to run a voice-recognition scan. We just know it came from inside the building.”

“Who was our mystery Mud Man calling?”

“Strange thing. He was calling the Times newspaper crossword hot line.”

“Maybe those wo

rds were the answers to today’s crossword?” said Holly hopefully.

“No. I checked the correct solution. Not a fairy-related word in sight.”

Holly set her wings to manual.“Okay. Time to find out what our caller is up to. Send me the institute’s coordinates.”

Holly suspected that it was a false alarm. Hundreds of these calls came in every year. Foaly was so paranoid that he believed the Mud Men were invading every time someone mentioned the word magic on a phone line. And with the recent trend for human fantasy movies and video games, magical phrases cropped up quite a lot. Thousands f police hours were wasted staking out the residents of dwellings where these phone calls originated, and it usually turned out to be some kid playing on his PC.

More than likely this phantom phone call was the result of a crossed line, or some Hollywood hack pitching a screenplay, or even an undercover LEP operative trying to phone home. But then, today of all days, everything had to be checked.

Holly kicked up her legs behind her, dropping into a steep dive. Diving was against Recon regulations. All approaches were supposed to be controlled and gradual. But what was the point of flying if you couldn’t feel the slipstream tugging at your toes?

Ice Age Cryogenics Institute, London

Artemis leaned against the cryogenics mobile unit’s rear bumper. It was funny how quickly a person’s priorities could change. That morning he had been worried about which loafers to wear with his suit, and now his dearest friend’s life hung in the balance. And the balance was rapidly shifting.

Artemis wiped a coating of frost from the spectacles he’d retrieved from his bodyguard’s jacket. These were no ordinary spectacles—Butler had twenty-twenty vision. These particular eyeglasses had been specially tooled to accommodate filters taken from an LEP helmet. Anti-shield filters. Butler had carried them since the time when Holly Short almost got the jump on him at Fowl Manor. You never know, he’d said. We’re a threat to LEP security, and someday Commander Root could be replaced with someone who isn’t quite so fond of us.

Artemis wasn’t convinced. The fairies were by and large a peaceful people. He couldn’t believe they would harm anyone, even a Mud Man, on the basis of past crimes. After all, they had parted friends. Or at least not enemies.

That was presuming the call worked. But there was no reason to believe it wouldn’t. Several government security agencies monitored phone lines using the keyword system, recording conversations that could compromise national security. And if humans were doing it, it was a safe bet that Foaly was two steps ahead.

Artemis donned the glasses, climbing into the vehicle’s cabin. He had placed the call ten minutes ago. Presuming Foaly got working on a trace straight away, it could still be another two hours before the LEP could get an operative on the surface. That would make it almost five hours since Butler’s heart had stopped. The record for a revival was two hours and fifty minutes for an Alpine skier frozen in an avalanche. There had never been a revival after three hours. Maybe there shouldn’t be.

Artemis glanced at the tray of food sent out by Dr. Lane. On another day he would have complained about just about everything on the plate. But now the meal was simply sustenance to keep him awake until the cavalry arrived. Artemis took a long drink from a polystyrene cup of tea. It sloshed audibly around in his empty stomach. Behind him in the van’s surgery, Butler’s cryo unit hummed like a common household freezer. Occasionally the computer emitted electronic beeps and whirrs as the machine ran self-diagnostics. Artemis was reminded of the weeks spent in Helsinki waiting for his father to regain consciousness. Waiting to see what the fairy magic would do for him ...

Excerpt from Artemis Fowl’s diary, disk 2 (encrypted)

Today my father spoke to me. For the first time in over two years I heard his voice, and it is exactly as I remembered it. But not everything is the same.

It had been over two months since Holly Short used her healing magic on his battered body, and still he lay in his Helsinki hospital bed. Immobile, unresponsive.

The doctors could not understand it. He should be awake, they informed me. His brain waves are strong, exceptionally so. And his heart beats like a horse. It is incredible, this man should be at death’s door, yet he has the muscle tone of a twenty-year-old.

Of course it is no mystery to me. Holly’s magic has overhauled my father’s entire being, with the exception of his left leg, which was lost when his ship went down off the coast of Murmansk. He has received an infusion of life, in body and mind.

The effect of the magic on his body does not worry me, but I cannot help but wonder what effect this positive energy will have on my father’s mind. For my father, a change like this could be traumatic. He is the Fowl patriarch, and his life revolves around moneymaking.

For sixteen days we sat in my father’s hospital room, waiting for some sign of life. I had, by then, learned to read the instruments and noticed immediately the morning that my father’s brain waves began spiking. My diagnosis was that he would soon regain consciousness, and so I called the nurse.

We were ushered from the room, to admit a medical team of at least a dozen. Two heart specialists, an anesthesiologist, a brain surgeon, a psychologist, and several nurses.

In fact, my father had no need of medical attention. He simply sat up, rubbed his eyes, and uttered one word: “Angeline.”

Mother was admitted. Butler, Juliet, and I were forced to wait for several more agonizing minutes until she reappeared at the door.“Come in everyone,” she said.“He wants to see you.”

And suddenly I was afraid. My father, the man whose shoes I had been trying to fill for two years, was awake. Would he still live up to my expectations? Would I live up to his?

I entered hesitantly. Artemis Fowl I was propped up by several pillows. The first thing that I noticed was his face. Not the scar traces, which were already almost completely healed, but the expression. My father’s brow, usually a thunderhead of moody contemplation, was smooth and carefree.

After such a long time apart, I did not know what to say. My father had no such doubts.

“Arty,” he cried, stretching his arms toward me.“You’re a man now. A young man.”

I ran into his embrace, and while he held me close all plots and schemes were forgotten. I had a father again.

Ice Age Cryogenics

Artemis’s memories were interrupted by a sly movement on the wall above. He fixed his gaze on the spot, watching through filtered eyes. There was a fairy crouching on a third-story windowsill. A Recon officer complete with wings and helmet. After only fifteen minutes? His ruse had worked. Foaly had intercepted the call, and sent someone to investigate. Now all that remained was to hope this particular fairy was full to the brim with magic and willing to help.

This had to be handled sensitively. The last thing he wanted to do was to spook the Recon officer. One wrong move and he’d wake up in six hours, with absolutely no recollection of the day’s events. And that would be fatal for Butler.

Artemis opened the van door slowly, stepping down into the yard. The fairy cocked its head, following his movements. To his dismay, Artemis saw the creature draw a platinum handgun.

“Don’t shoot,” said Artemis, raising his hands. “I am unarmed. And I need your help.”

The fairy activated its wings, descending slowly until its visor was level with Artemis’s eyes.

“Do not be alarmed,” continued Artemis. “I am a friend to the People. I helped to defeat the B’wa Kell. My name s ...”

The fairy unshielded, her opaque visor sliding up.

“I know what your name is, Artemis,” said Captain Holly Short.

“Holly,” said Artemis, grasping her by the shoulders. “It’s you.”

Holly shrugged off the human’s hands. “I know it’s me. What’s going on here? I presume you made the call?”

“Yes, yes. No time for that now. I can explain later.”

Holly opened the throttle on her wings, rising to a height of ten f

eet.

“No, Artemis. I want an explanation now. If you needed help, why didn’t you call on your own phone?”

Artemis forced himself to answer the question. “You told me that Foaly had pulled surveillance on my communications, and anyway I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Holly considered it. “Okay. Maybe I wouldn’t have.” She noticed something. “Where’s Butler? Watching our backs, as usual, I suppose.”

Artemis didn’t answer, but his expression told Holly exactly why the Mud Boy had summoned her.

Artemis pressed a button, and a pneumatic pump opened the cryo pod’s lid. Butler lay inside, encased in an inch of ice.

“Oh, no,” sighed Holly. “What happened?”

“He stopped a bullet that was meant for me,” replied Artemis.

“When are you going to learn, Mud Boy?” snapped the fairy. “Your little schemes have a tendency to get people hurt. Usually the people who care about you.”

Artemis didn’t answer. The truth was the truth after all.

Holly peeled back a cold pack from the bodyguard’s chest. “How long?”

Artemis consulted the clock on his cell phone. “Three hours. Give or take a few minutes.”

Captain Short wiped off the ice, laying her hand flat on Butler’s chest. “Three hours. I don’t know, Artemis. There’s nothing here. Not a flicker.”

Artemis faced her across the cryo pod. “Can you do it, Holly? Can you heal him?”

Holly stepped back. “Me? I can’t heal him. We need a professional warlock to even attempt something like this.”

“But you healed my father.”

“That was different. Your father wasn’t dead. He wasn’t even critical. I hate to say it, but Butler is gone. Long gone.”

Artemis pulled a gold medallion from a leather thong around his neck. The disk was perforated by a single circular hole. Dead center.

“Remember this. You gave it to me for ensuring that your trigger finger got reattached to your hand. You said it would remind me of the spark of decency inside me. I’m rying to do something decent now, Captain.”