The Opal Deception (Artemis Fowl 4)

They were out, pulling the door behind them.

“One ...”

Corporal Grub slumped slightly, then jerked to attention.

“Hey . . . what the? I’m really thirsty. Is anyone else thirsty?”

Merv stuffed the night-vision goggles into the trolley, blinking a bead of sweat from his eyelid. “It’s the air in here. I get dehydrated all the time. Terrible headaches.”

Grub pinched the bridge of his nose. “Me too. I’m going to write a letter, as soon as the lights come back.”

Just then the lights did come back, flickering on one after another down the length of the corridor.

“There we go,” grinned Scant. “Panic over. Maybe now they’ll buy us some new circuits, eh, brother?”

Dr. Argon came barrelling down the passageway, almost keeping pace with the flickering lights.

“Your hip is better, then, Jerry?” said Merv.

Argon ignored the pixies, his eyes wide, his breath ragged.

“Corporal Kelp,” he panted. “Koboi, is she? Has she ...”

Grub rolled his eyes. “Calm yourself, doctor. Miss Koboi is still suspended where you left her. Take a look.”

Argon flattened his palms against the wall, first checking the vitals.

“Okay, no change. No change. A two-minute lapse, but that’s okay.”

“I told you,” said Grub. “And while you’re here, I need to talk to you about these headaches I’ve been having.”

Argon brushed him aside. “I need a cotton ball. Scant, do you have any?”

Scant slapped his pockets. “Sorry, Jerry. Not on me.”

“Don’t call me Jerry!” howled Jerbal Argon, ripping the lid from the cleaning trolley. “There must be cotton balls in here somewhere,” he said, sweat pasting thin hair across his wide gnome’s forehead. “It’s a janitor’s box, for heaven’s sake.” His blunt fingers scrabbled through the trolley’s contents, scraping across the false bottom.

Merv elbowed him out of the way before he could discover the secret compartment or spy screens. “Here we are, doctor,” he said, grabbing a tub of cotton balls. “A month’s supply. Knock yourself out.”

Argon fumbled a single ball from the pack, discarding the rest.

“DNA never lies,” he muttered, punching his code into the keypad. “DNA never lies.”

He rushed into the room and roughly swabbed the inside of the clone’s mouth. The Brill brothers held their breath. They had expected to be out of the clinic before this happened. Argon rolled the cotton ball’s head across the sponge pad on his clipboard. A moment later, Opal Koboi’s name flashed onto the board’s miniplasma screen.

Argon heaved a massive sigh, resting his hands on both knees. He threw the observers a shamefaced grin. “Sorry. I panicked. If we lost Koboi, the clinic would never live it down. I’m just a little paranoid, I suppose. Faces can be altered, but . . .”

“DNA never lies,” said Merv and Scant simultaneously.

Grub reset his video goggles. “I think Dr. Argon needs a little vacation.”

“You’re telling me,” sniggered Merv, rolling the trolley toward the maintenance elevator. “Anyway, we’d better get going, brother. We need to isolate the cause of the power failure.”

Scant followed him down the corridor. “Any idea where the problem could be?”

“I have a hunch. Let’s try the parking lot, or maybe the basement.”

“Whatever you say. After all, you are the older brother.”

“And wiser,” added Merv. “Don’t forget that.”

The pixies continued down the corridor, their brisk banter masking the fact that their knees were shaking and their hearts were battering their rib cages. It wasn’t until they had removed the evidence of their acid bombs, and were well on their way home in the van, that they began to breathe normally again.

Back in the apartment he shared with Scant, Merv unzipped Koboi from her sealed hiding place. Any worries they’d had about Opal’s IQ taking a dip immediately vanished. Their employer’s eyes were bright and aware.

“Bring me up to speed,” she said, climbing shakily from the trolley. Even though her mind was fully functioning, it would take a couple of days in an electromassager to get her muscles back to normal.

Merv helped her onto a low sofa. “Everything is in place. The funds, the surgeon, everything.”

Opal drank greedily straight from a jug of core water on the coffee table. “Good, good. And what of my enemies?”

Scant stood beside his brother. They were almost identical except for a slight wideness in Merv’s brow. Merv had always been the smart one.

“We have kept tabs on them, as you asked,” said Scant.

Opal stopped drinking. “Asked?”

“Instructed,” stammered Scant. “Instructed, of course. That’s what I meant.”

Koboi’s eyes narrowed. “I do hope the Brill brothers haven’t developed any independent notions since I’ve been asleep.”

Scant stooped slightly, almost bowing. “No, no, Miss Koboi. We live to serve. Only to serve.”

“Yes,” agreed Opal. “And you live only as long as you do serve. Now, my enemies. They are well and happy, I trust.”

“Oh yes. Julius Root goes from strength to strength as LEP Commander. He has been nominated for the Council.”

Opal smiled a vicious wolverine’s smile. “The Council. Such a long way to fall. And Holly Short?”

“Back on full active duty. Six successful reconnaissance missions since you induced your coma. Her name has been put on the list for promotion to major.”

“Major, indeed. Well, the least we can do is to make sure that promotion never come

s through. I plan to wreck Holly Short’s career, so she dies in disgrace.”

“The centaur Foaly is as obnoxious as ever,” continued Scant Brill. “I suggest a particularly nasty . . .”

Opal raised a delicate finger, cutting him off. “No. Nothing happens to Foaly just yet. He will be defeated by intellect alone. Twice in my life, someone has outsmarted me. Both times it was Foaly. Just killing him requires no ingenuity. I want him beaten, humiliated, and alone.” She clapped her hands in delighted anticipation. “And then I will kill him.”

“We have been monitoring Artemis Fowl’s communications. Apparently the human youth has spent most of the past year trying to find a certain painting. We have traced the painting to Munich.”

“A painting? Really?” Cogwheels turned in Opal’s brain. “Well, let’s make sure we get to it before he does. Maybe we can add a little something to his work of art.”

Scant nodded. “Yes. That’s not a problem. I’ll go tonight.”

Opal stretched out on the sofa like a cat in the sunlight. “Good. This is turning out to be a lovely day. Now, send for the surgeon.”

The Brill brothers glanced at each other.

“Miss Koboi?” said Mervall nervously.

“Yes, what is it?”

“The surgeon. This kind of operation cannot be reversed, even by magic. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to think ...”

Opal leaped from the sofa. Her cheeks were crimson with rage. “Think! You’d like me to think about it! What do you imagine I have been doing for the past year? Thinking! Twenty-four hours a day. I don’t care about magic. Magic did not help me to escape, science did. Science will be my magic. Now, no more advice, Merv, or your brother will be an only child. Is that clear?”

Merv was stunned. He had never seen Opal in such a rage. The coma had changed her.

“Yes, Miss Koboi.”

“Now, summon the surgeon.”

“At once, Miss Koboi.”

Opal lay back on the sofa. Soon everything would be right in the world. Her enemies would shortly be dead or discredited. Once those loose ends were tied up, she could get on with her new life. Koboi rubbed the tips of her pointed ears. What would she look like, she wondered, as a human?