The Opal Deception (Artemis Fowl 4)

Opal had had a greenhouse lab constructed far from Koboi Industries, and had diverted enough funds to keep the project active for two years: the exact time it would take to grow a clone of herself to adulthood. Then, when she wanted to escape from the Argon Clinic, a perfect replica of herself would be left in her place. The LEP would never know she was gone.

As things had turned out, she had been right to plan ahead. Briar had proved treacherous, and a small group of fairies and humans had ensured that his betrayal would lead to her own downfall. Now Opal had a goal to bolster her willpower. She would maintain this coma for as long as it took, because there was a score to be settled. Foaly, Root, Holly Short, and the human Artemis Fowl. They were the ones responsible for her defeat. Soon she would be free of this clinic, and then she would visit those who had caused her such despair and give them a little despair of their own. Once her enemies were defeated she could proceed with the second phase of her plan: introducing the Mud Men to the People in a way that could not be covered up by a few mind wipes. The secret life of fairies was almost at an end.

Opal Koboi’s brain released a few happy endorphins. The thought of revenge always gave her a warm fuzzy feeling.

The Brill brothers watched Dr. Argon limp up the corridor.

“Moron,” muttered Merv, using his telescopic vacuum pole to chase some dust out of a corner.

“You said it,” agreed Scant. “Old Jerry couldn’t analyze a bowl of vole curry. No wonder his wife is leaving him. If he was any good as a shrink, he would’ve seen that coming.”

Merv collapsed the vacuum. “How are we doing?”

Scant checked his moonometer. “Ten past eight.”

“Good. How’s Corporal Kelp?”

“Still watching the movie. This guy is perfect. We have to go tonight. The LEP could send someone smart for the next shift. And if we wait any longer the clone will grow another inch.”

“You’re right. Check the spy cameras.”

Scant lifted the lid on what appeared to be a janitor’s trolley, festooned as it was with mops, rags, and sprays. Hidden beneath a tray of vacuum nozzles, was a color monitor split into several screens.

“Well?” hissed Merv.

Scant did not answer immediately, taking time to check all the screens. The video feed was from various microcameras that Opal had installed around the clinic before her incarceration. The spy cameras were actually genetically engineered organic material. So the pictures they sent were literally a live feed. The world’s first living machines. Totally undetectable by bug sweepers.

“Night crew only,” he said at last. “Nobody in this sector except Corporal Idiot over there.”

“What about the parking lot?”

“Clear.”

Merv held out his hand. “Okay, brother. This is it. No turning back. Are we in? Do we want Opal Koboi back?”

Scant blew a lock of black hair from one round pixie eye.

“Yes, because if she comes back on her own, Opal will find a way to make us suffer,” he said, shaking his brother’s hand. “So yes, we’re in.”

Merv took a remote control from his pocket. The device was tuned to a sonix receiver planted in the clinic’s gable wall. This in turn was connected to a balloon of acid that lay gently on the clinic’s main power cube in the parking lot junction box. A second balloon sat atop the backup cube in the maintenance basement. As the clinic’s janitors, it had been a simple matter for Merv and Scant to plant the acid balloons the previous evening. Of course, the Argon Clinic was also connected to the main grid, but if the cubes did go down, there would be a two-minute interval before the main power kicked in. There was no need for more elaborate arrangements; after all, this was a medical facility, not a prison.

Merv took a deep breath, flicked the safety cover, and pressed the red button. The remote control emitted an infrared command activating two sonix charges. The charges sent out sound waves that burst the balloons, and the balloons dumped their acidic contents on the clinic’s power cubes. Twenty seconds later the cubes were completely eaten away and the whole building was plunged into darkness. Merv and Scant quickly put on night-vision goggles.

As soon as the power failed, green strip lights began pulsing gently on the floor, guiding the way to the exits. Merv and Scant moved quickly and purposefully. Scant steered the trolley, and Merv made straight for Corporal Kelp.

Grub was pulling the video glasses from over his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, disoriented by the sudden darkness. “What’s going on here?”

“Power failure,” said Merv, bumping into him with calculated clumsiness. “Those lines are a nightmare. I’ve been telling Dr. Argon, but nobody wants to spend money on maintenance when there are fancy company cars to be bought.”

Merv was not chatting for the fun of it; he was waiting for the soluble sedative pad he had pressed onto Grub’s wrist to take effect.

“Tell me about it,” said Grub, suddenly blinking a lot more than he generally did. “I’ve been lobbying for new lockers at Police Plaza. I’m really thirsty. Is anyone else thirsty?” Grub stiffened, frozen by the serum that was spreading through his system. The LEP officer would snap out of it in under two minutes and be instantly alert. He would have no memory of his unconsciousness, and with luck, he would not notice the time lapse.

“Go,” said Scant tersely.

Merv was already gone. With ease, he punched Dr. Argon’s code into Opal’s door. He completed this action faster than Argon ever could, due to hours spent practicing on a stolen pad in his apartment. Argon’s code changed every week, but the Brill brothers made certain that they were cleaning outside the room when Argon was on his rounds. The pixies generally had the complete code by midweek.

The battery-powered pad light winked green, and the door slid back. Opal Koboi swung gently before him, suspended in her harness like a bug in an exotic cocoon.

Merv winched her down onto the trolley. Moving briskly, and with practiced precision, he rolled up Opal’s sleeve and located the scar in her upper arm where the seeker-sleeper had been inserted. He gripped the hard lump between his thumb and forefinger.

“Scalpel,” he said, holding out his free hand. Scant passed him the instrument. Merv took a breath, held it, and made a one-inch incision in Opal’s flesh. He wiggled his index finger into the hole and rolled out the electronic capsule. It was encased in silicone and roughly the size of a painkiller.

“Seal it up,” he ordered.

Scant bent close to the wound and placed a thumb at each end.

“Heal,” he whispered, and blue sparks of fairy magic ran rings around his fingers, sinking into the wound. In seconds the folds of skin had zipped themselves together, with only a pale pink scar to show that a cut had been made—a scar almost identical to the one that already existed. Opal’s own magic had dried up months ago, as she was in no position to complete a power-restoring ritual.

“Miss Koboi,” said Merv briskly. “Time to get up. Wakey-wakey.”

He unstrapped Opal completely from the harness. The unconscious pixie collapsed onto the lid of the cleaning trolley. Merv slapped her across the cheek, bringing a blush to her face. Opal’s breathing rate increased slightly, but her eyes remained closed.

“Jolt her,” said Scant.

Merv pulled an LEP-issue buzz baton from inside his jacket. He powered it up and touched Opal on the elbow. The pixie’s body jerked spasmodically, and Opal Koboi shot into consciousness, a sleeper waking from a nightmare.

“Cudgeon,” she screamed. “You betrayed me!”

Merv grabbed her shoulders. “Miss Koboi. It’s us, Mervall and Descant. It’s time.”

Opal glared at him, wild eyed.

“Brill?” she said after several deep breaths.

“That’s right. Merv and Scant. We need to go.”

“Go? What do you mean?”

“Leave,” said Merv urgently. “We have about a minute.”

Opal shook her head, dislodging the a

fter-trance daze. “Merv and Scant. We need to go.”

Merv helped her from the trolley’s lid. “That’s right. The clone is ready.”

Scant peeled back a sealed foil false bottom in the trolley. Inside lay a cloned replica of Opal Koboi wearing an Argon Clinic coma suit. The clone was identical, down to the last follicle. Scant removed an oxygen mask from the clone’s face, hauled it from its resting place, and began cinching her into the harness.

“Remarkable,” said Opal, brushing the clone’s skin with her knuckle. “Am I that beautiful?”

“Oh yes,” said Merv. “That and more.”

Suddenly, Opal screeched. “Idiots. Its eyes are open. It can see me!”

Scant closed the clone’s lids hurriedly. “Don’t worry, Miss Koboi, it can’t tell anyone, even if its brain could decipher what it sees.”

Opal climbed groggily into the trolley. “But its eyes can register images. Foaly may think to check. That infernal centaur.”

“Don’t fret, Miss,” said Scant, folding the trolley’s false bottom over his mistress. “Very soon now, that will be the least of Foaly’s worries.”

Opal strapped the oxygen mask across her face. “Later,” she said, her voice muffled by the plastic. “Talk, later.”

Koboi drifted into a natural sleep, exhausted by even this small exertion. It could be hours before the pixie regained consciousness. After a coma of that length, there was even the risk that Opal would never be quite as smart as she once was.

“Time?” said Merv.

Scant glanced at his moonometer. “Thirty seconds left.”

Merv finished cinching the straps exactly as they had been. Pausing only to dab sweat from his brow, he made a second incision with his scalpel, this time in the clone’s arm, and inserted the seeker-sleeper. While Scant sealed the cut with a blast of magical sparks, Merv rearranged the cleaning paraphernalia over the trolley’s false section.

Scant bobbed impatiently. “Eight seconds, seven. By the gods, this is the last time I break the boss out of a clinic and replace her with a clone.”

Merv spun the trolley on its castors, pushing it through the open doorway. “Five . . . four . . .”

Scant did one last check around, running his eyeballs across everything they had touched.

“Three ...two ...”