The Opal Deception (Artemis Fowl 4)
“Completely,” replied Mulch, neglecting to mention the diamond nestled in his stomach wall.
“Excellent,” said Artemis, striding past the dwarf to the cockpit.
“Go,” he shouted, thumping Holly’s headrest.
Holly already had the shuttle ticking over, and was holding it with the brake.
“We’re gone,” she said, releasing the brake and flooring the throttle. The LEP craft bolted from the rocky outcrop like a pebble from a catapult.
Artemis’s legs were dragged from the floor, flapping behind him like windsocks. The rest of him would have followed if he hadn’t held on to the headrest.
“How much time do we have?” asked Holly, through lips rippled by G-force.
Artemis pulled himself into the passenger seat. “Minutes. The orebody will hit a depth of one hundred and five miles in precisely one quarter of an hour. Opal will be after us any second.”
Holly shadowed the chute wall, spinning between two towers of rock. The lower portion of E7 was quite straight, but this stretch corkscrewed through the crust, following the cracks in the plates.
“Is this going to work, Artemis?” said Holly.
Artemis pondered the question. “I considered eight plans, and this was the best one. Even so, we have a sixty-four percent chance of success. The key is to keep Opal distracted so she doesn’t discover the truth. That’s up to you, Holly. Can you do it?”
Holly wrapped her fingers around the wheel. “Don’t worry. It’s not often I get a chance to do some fancy flying. Opal will be so busy trying to catch us that she won’t have time to consider anything else.”
Artemis looked out of the windshield. They were pointing straight down toward the center of the earth. Gravity fluctuated at this depth and speed, so they were alternately pinned to their chairs and straining to be free of their seat belts. The chute’s blackness enveloped them like tar, except for the cone of light from the shuttle’s headlamps. Gigantic rock formations darted in and out of the cone heading straight for their nose. Somehow Holly steered them through, without once tapping the brake.
On the plasma dash, the icon representing the gaseous anomaly that was Opal’s ship inched across the screen.
“They’re on to us,” said Holly, catching the movement from the corner of one eye.
Artemis’s stomach was knotted from flight nausea, anxiety, fatigue, and exhilaration. “Very well,” he said, almost to himself. “The chase is on.”
At the mouth of E7, Merv was at the wheel of the stealth shuttle. Scant was on instruments, and Opal was in charge of giving orders and general ranting.
“Do we have a signal from the charge?” she screeched from her chair.
Her voice is really getting annoying, thought Scant, but not too loudly. “No,” he replied. “Nothing. Which means it must be in the other shuttle. Their shields must be blocking the charge’s signal. We need to get closer, or I could send the detonation signal anyway; we might get lucky.”
Opal’s screech grew more strident. “No! We must not detonate before that shuttle reaches one hundred and five miles. If we do, the orebody will not change course. What about this stupid communicator? Anything from that?”
“Negative,” said Scant. “If there’s another one, it must be switched off.”
“We could always return to Zito’s compound,” said Merv. “We have a dozen more charges there.”
Opal leaned forward in her seat, punching Merv’s shoulders with her tiny fists. “Idiot. Moron. Half-wit. Are you in some kind of stupidity competition? Is that it? If we return to Zito’s, the orebody will be too deep by the time we return. Not to mention the fact that Captain Short will present the LEP with her version of events and they will have to investigate, at the very least. We must get closer and we must detonate. Even if we miss the probe window, at least we destroy any witnesses against me.”
The stealth shuttle had proximity sensors linked into the navigating software, which meant that Opal and company did not have to worry about colliding with the chute wall or stalactites.
“How long before we’re in detonation range?” Opal barked. To be honest, it was more of a yip.
Merv did some quick calculations. “Three minutes. No more.”
“How deep will they be at that point?”
A few more sums. “One hundred and fifty-five miles.”
Opal pinched her nose. “It could work. Presuming they have both charges, the resulting explosion, even if not directed as we planned, may be enough to blow a crack in the wall. It’s our only option. If it fails, at least we have time to regroup. As soon as they hit one hundred and five, send the detonate signal. Send it continuously. We may get lucky.”
Merv flipped a plastic safety cover off the DETONATE button. Only minutes to go.
Artemis’s insides were trying to force their way out his throat. “This heap needs new gyroscopes,” he said.
Holly barely nodded, too busy concentrating on a particularly tricky series of jinks and loops in the chute.
Artemis consulted the dashboard’s readout. “We’re at a depth of one hundred and five now. Opal will be trying to detonate. She’s closing fast.”
Mulch stuck his head through from the passenger section. “Is all this jiggling about really necessary? I’ve had a lot to eat recently.”
“Nearly there,” said Artemis. “The ride is just about over. Tell Butler to open the bag.”
“Okay. Are you sure Opal will do what she’s supposed to?”
Artemis smiled reassuringly. “Of course I am. It’s human nature, and Opal is a human now, remember? Now, Holly. Pull over.”
Mervall tapped the readout. “You’re not going to believe this, Op . . . Miss Koboi.”
The merest hint of a smile flickered across Opal’s lips. “Don’t tell me. They have stopped.”
Merv shook his head, astounded. “Yes, they are hovering at one hundred and twenty-five. Why would they do that?”
“There’s no point trying to explain it, Mervall. Just keep sending the detonation signal, but slow us down. I don’t want to be too close when we get a connection.”
She drummed her nails on the handheld communicator left behind by the dwarf. Any second now.
A red call light flashed on the communicator, accompanied by a slight vibration. Opal smiled, flipping open the walkie-talkie’s screen.
Artemis’s pale face filled the tiny screen. He was trying to smile, but it was obviously forced. “Opal, I am giving you one chance to surrender. We have disar
med your charges and the LEP is on its way. It would be better for you to turn yourself over to Captain Short than shoot it out with an armed LEP ship.”
Opal clapped her hands. “Bravo, Master Fowl, what a wonderful fiction. Now, why don’t I tell you the real truth. You have realized that the charges cannot be disarmed. The mere fact that I can receive your communication’s signal means that my detonation signal will soon penetrate your shields. You cannot simply jettison the explosives, or I will set them off in the chute, exactly as I had originally planned. Then I will simply fire a few heat seekers at your craft. And if you attempt further flight, then I will follow and penetrate your shields before you clear the parallel stretch. You are not in communication with the LEP. If you were, we would have picked up your broadcast. So your only alternative is this pathetic bluff. And it is pathetic. You are obviously attempting to stall me until the orebody passes your depth.”
“So you refuse to surrender?”
Opal pretended to think about it, tapping her chin with a manicured nail. “Why, yes. I think I will fight on, against all odds. And by the way, please don’t look directly at the screen: it’s bad for my skin.”
Artemis sighed dramatically. “Well, if we have to go, at least we’ll go on full stomachs.”
This was an unusually cavalier comment to make with seconds to live, even for a human. “Full stomachs?”
“Yes,” said Artemis. “Mulch took something else from your shuttle.”
He picked up a small chocolate-covered ball and wiggled it before the screen.
“My truffles?” gasped Opal. “You took them. That’s just mean.”
Artemis popped the treat into his mouth and chewed slowly. “They really are divine. I can see why you missed them in the institute. We’re really going to have to work hard to eat all we took before you blow us to smithereens.”