The Opal Deception (Artemis Fowl 4)

Lower Elements Police? thought Butler. This is all a fake. Somehow it’s fake.

Again, the video-Artemis seemed to read his thoughts. “In order to verify the fantastical facts that I am about to reveal, I will say one word. Just one. A word that I could not possibly know unless you had told me. Something you said as you lay dying, before Holly Short cured you with her magic. What would you tell me if you lay dying, old friend. What would be the single word you would say?”

I would tell you my first name, thought Butler. Something only two other people in the world know. Something completely forbidden by bodyguard etiquette, unless it is too late to matter.

Artemis leaned in to the camera. “Your name, my old friend, is Domovoi.”

Butler was reeling. Oh my God, he thought. It’s true, it’s all true.

Something began to happen in his brain. Disjointed images flashed through his subconscious, releasing repressed memories. The false past was swept away by blinding truth. An electric connect-the-dots jolted through his cranium, making everything clear. It all made sense now. He felt old because the healing had aged him. He found it difficult to breath sometimes because Kevlar strands had been woven into the skin over his chest wound. He remembered Holly’s kidnapping, and the B’wa Kell goblin revolution. He remembered Holly and Julius, the centaur Foaly, and of course, Mulch Diggums. There was no need to read the other files; one word had been enough. He remembered everything.

Butler studied the dwarf with fresh eyes. Everything was so familiar now. The vibrating frizz of hair, the bowlegged stance, the smell. He sprang from his chair and strode across the room to Mulch, who was busy raiding the study’s minifridge.

“Mulch, you old reprobate. Good to see you.”

“Now he remembers,” said the dwarf without turning around. “Do you have anything to say?”

Butler glanced at the open bum-flap. “Yes. Don’t point that thing at me. I’ve seen the damage it can do.”

The bodyguard’s smile froze on his face as he remembered one detail of Artemis’s phone message.

“Julius Root. I heard something about a bomb.”

Mulch turned from the fridge, his beard laced with a cocktail of dairy products.

“Yes. Julius is gone. I can’t believe it. He’s been chasing me for so many years.”

Butler felt a terrific weariness weigh on his shoulders. He had lost too many comrades over the years.

“And what’s more,” continued Mulch. “Holly is accused of murdering him.”

“That’s just not possible. We have to find them.”

“Now you’re talking,” said the dwarf, slamming the fridge door. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yes. Find Holly and Artemis.”

Mulch rolled his eyes. “Pure genius. It’s a wonder you need Artemis at all.”

Now that the dwarf had eaten his fill, the two reacquainted friends sat at the conference table and brought each other up to speed.

Butler cleaned his gun as he spoke. He often did this in times of stress. It was a comfort thing.

“So, Opal Koboi somehow gets out of prison and hatches this complicated plot to revenge herself on everyone who put her in there. Not only that, but she sets Holly up to take the blame.”

“Remind you of anyone?” asked the dwarf.

Butler polished the Sig Sauer’s slide. “Artemis may be a criminal, but he is not evil.”

“Who said anything about Artemis?”

“Well what about you, Mulch? Why didn’t Opal try to kill you?”

“Ah well,” sighed the dwarf, ever the martyr. “The LEP didn’t advertise my involvement. It wouldn’t do to have the proud officers of our police force tarnished by association with a known criminal.”

Butler nodded. “It makes sense. So you’re safe for now and Artemis and Holly are alive. But Opal has something planned for them. Something to do with trolls and the Eleven Wonders. Any ideas?”

“We both know about trolls, right?”

Butler nodded again. He had fought a troll not so long ago. Without a doubt the toughest battle he had ever been involved in. He couldn’t believe the LEP had managed to wipe it from his mind.

“But what about the Eleven Wonders?”

“The Eleven Wonders is a theme park in Haven’s old-town district. Fairies are obsessed with Mud Men, so one bright spark billionaire thought it would be a great idea to build smaller models of the human wonders of the world and put them all in one place. It did okay for a few years, but I think looking at those buildings made the People remember just how much they missed the surface.”

Butler ran through a list in his head. “But there are only seven wonders in the world.”

“There used to be eleven,” said Mulch. “Trust me, I have photographs. Anyway, the park is closed down now. That whole area of the city has been abandoned for years; the tunnels are not safe. And the whole place is overrun by trolls.” He stopped suddenly, the horror of what he had just said hitting home. “Oh gods. Trolls.”

Butler began to quickly reassemble his weapon. “We need to get down there right now.”

“Impossible,” said Mulch. “I can’t even

begin to think how.”

Butler dragged the dwarf to his feet and propelled him toward the door. “Maybe not. But you know someone.

People in your business always know someone.”

Mulch ground his teeth thinking about it. “You know, there is someone. A sprite who owes Holly his life. But whatever I persuade him to do for us won’t be legal.”

Butler grabbed a bag of weaponry from a cabinet. “Good,” he said. “Illegal is always faster.”

CHAPTER 7

THE TEMPLE OF ARTEMIS

The Lower Elements

Opal Koboi’s shuttle was a concept model that had never gone into mass production. It was years ahead of anything on the market, but its skin of stealth ore and cam-foil made the cost of such a vehicle so exorbitant that even Opal Koboi couldn’t have afforded one without the government grants that had helped to pay for it.

Scant secured the prisoners into the passenger bay, while Merv piloted them across to Scotland, then underground through a mountain river in the highlands. Opal busied herself making sure that her other plan, the one involving world domination, was proceeding smoothly.

She closed the screen on her video phone and dialed a connection to Sicily.

The person at the other end picked up in the middle of the first ring. “Belinda, my dear. Is it you?”

The man who had answered was in his late forties, with Latin good looks and gray-streaked black hair framing his tanned face. He wore a white lab coat over an open-necked striped Versace shirt.

“Yes, Papa. It’s me. Don’t worry, I am safe.”

Opal’s voice was layered with the hypnotic mesmer. The poor human was utterly in her power, as he had been for over a month.