“Hardly anybody inside the house knows. Minerva is paranoid that some other egghead will get ahold of her work. The staff thinks we’re guarding a political prisoner who needs his face redone. Only Juan Soto, the chief of in-house security, and myself were told the truth.”

“Does Minerva keep records?”

“Records? She writes everything down, and I mean everything. We have records of every demon action, right down to toilet breaks. She’s got every twitch on video. The only reason that there’s no cameras down here is that we weren’t expecting anyone.”

“Where does she keep these notes?”

“A little wall safe in the security office. Minerva thinks I don’t know the combination, but I do. Bobo’s birthday.”

Holly touched a skin-colored microphone pad glued to her throat. “A wall safe in the security office,” she said clearly. “I hope you’re getting that.”

There was no reply. Wearing an earpiece had been too risky, so Holly had had to make do with the mike pad on her neck and an iris-cam suckered like a contact lense over her right eye.

Kong still felt like talking. “You know, I’m going to kill all of you demons. I’ve got a plan. Real clever, too. Miss Minerva thinks that she’s going to Stockholm, but that’s never going to happen. I’m just waiting for the right moment. I know that silver is the only thing keeping you in this dimension. So I’m going to send you back, and give you a little present to take with you.”

Not if I can help it, thought Holly.

Kong half smiled at her. “Are we doing the face-peeling thing? Can you really do that?”

“Of course I can,” said Holly. “Are you sure you want to see it?”

Kong nodded, slack jawed.

“Okay, then. Watch carefully.”

Holly raised her hands to her face, and when she took them away, her head had disappeared. Her body and limbs quickly followed suit.

“Not only can I peel off my face,” said Holly’s voice from thin air, “I can do my entire body.”

“It’s true,” croaked Kong. “It’s all true.”

Then a tiny invisible fist swished through the air, knocking him into unconsciousness. Billy Kong lay on the concrete floor, dreaming that he was Jonah Lee once more, and his brother stood before him saying, “I told you so, bro. I told you there were demons. They murdered me back in Malibu. So what are you going to do about it?”

And little Jonah answered: “I’m working on it, Eric.”

Minerva accepted the phone from the security guard.

“Minerva Paradizo speaking.”

“Minerva, this is Artemis Fowl,” said a voice in perfect French. “We met once across a crowded room, in Sicily.”

“I know who you are, we nearly met in Barcelona, too. And I know it’s really you. I memorized your voice pattern and cadence from a lecture you gave on Balkan politics two years ago at Trinity College.”

“Very good. I find it strange that I haven’t heard of you.”

Minerva smiled. “I am not as careless as you, Artemis. I prefer anonymity, until I have something exceptional to be recognized for.”

“The existence of demons, for instance,” prompted Artemis. “That would be exceptional.”

Minerva gripped the phone tightly. “Yes, Master Fowl. It would be exceptional. It is exceptional. So you can keep your Irish paws off my research. The last thing I need is for some bigheaded teenage boy to hijack all my work at the last second. You had your own demon, but that wasn’t enough. You had to try and steal mine, too. The moment I recognized you in Barcelona, I knew you would be after my research subject. I knew you would try to smoke us out, have someone hide in the car. It was the logical thing to do, so I booby-trapped the vehicle. You knocked out my baby brother, too. How could you?”

“Apparently I did you a favor,” said Artemis lightly. “Little Bobo is obnoxious by all accounts.”

“Is that why you called me? To insult my family?”

“No,” replied Artemis. “I do apologize, that was juvenile. I called you to try and make you see sense. There is much more at stake here than a Nobel Prize, not to belittle the prize, of course.”

Minerva smiled knowingly. “Artemis Fowl, whatever your pretence, you called me because your plan failed. I have your demon, and you want her back. But if it makes you feel better, please proceed with your good-of-humanity speech.”

Outside, on the bluff overlooking Chateau Paradizo, Artemis frowned. This girl reminded him a lot of himself eighteen months ago, when achievement and acquisition were everything, and family and friends were secondary. Honesty, on this occasion, actually was the best policy.

“Miss Paradizo,” he said gently. “Minerva. Listen to me for a few moments; you will feel the truth of what I say.”

Minerva tutted. “Why is that? Because we’re connected?”

“Actually, we are. We are similar people. Both the most intelligent person in whatever room we happen to be in. Both constantly underestimated. Both determined to shine brightest in whichever discipline we pursue. Both dogged by scorn and loneliness.”

“Ridiculous,” scoffed Minerva, but her protestations rang hollow. “I am not lonely. I have my work.”

Artemis persisted. “I know how it feels, Minerva. And let me tell you, no matter how many prizes you win, no matter how many theorems you prove, it will not be enough to make people like you.”

“Oh, spare me your amateur psychology lecture. You’re not even three years older than I am.”

Artemis was injured. “Hardly amateur. And for your information, age is often detrimental to intelligence. I have written a paper on the subject in Psychology Today, under the pseudonym Dr. C. Niall DeMencha.”

Minerva giggled. “I get it, senile dementia. Very good.”

Artemis himself smiled. “You are the first person to get that.”

“I always am.”

“Me too.”

“Don’t you find that tiresome?”

“Incredibly. I mean, what is wrong with people? Everybody says that I have no sense of humor, then I construct a perfectly sound pun around a well-known psychological condition, and it is ignored. People should be rolling in the aisles.”

“Absolutely,” agreed Minerva. “That happens to me all the time.”

“I know. I loved that Murray Gell-Mann kidnapping a quark joke that you did on the train. Very clever analogy.”

The congenial conversation ground to a frosty halt.

“How did you hear that? How long have you been spying on me?”

Artemis was quietly stunned. He had not meant to reveal that fact. It was most unlike him to chatter on about trifles when there were lives at stake. But he

liked this Minerva girl. She was so similar to him.

“There was a security camera in the compartment on the train. I procured the tape, had it enhanced, and read your lips.”

“Hmm,” said Minerva. “I don’t remember a camera.”

“It was there. Inside a red plastic bubble. Fish-eye lens. I apologize for the intrusion of your privacy, but it was an emergency.”

Minerva was silent for a moment. “Artemis. We could have a lot to talk about. I haven’t talked this much with a boy in . . . well, ever. But I have to finish this project. Can you call me again in six weeks?”

“Six weeks will be too late. The world will be a different place and possibly not a better one.”

“Artemis. Stop it. I was just beginning to like you, and now we’re back to where we started.”

“Just give me one more minute,” Artemis insisted. “If I can’t convince you in a single minute, then I will hang up and leave you to your research.”

“Fifty-nine,” said Minerva. “Fifty-eight . . .”

Artemis wondered if all girls were so emotional. Holly could be this way, too. Warm one moment and icy the next.

“You are holding two creatures captive. Both sentient. Neither human. If you expose either one to the wider scientific community, then their kind will be hunted down. You will be responsible for the extinction of at least one species. Is that what you want?”

“That’s what they want,” retorted Minerva. “The first one we rescued threatened to kill us all, and possibly eat us. He said that the demons would return and wipe out the human scourge.”

“I know all about Abbot,” said Artemis, using what he had learned from Minerva’s own surveillance cameras. “He was a dinosaur. Demons could never take on humans now. Judging by my temporal calculations, Abbot was whisked ten thousand years into his own future and then sent back again. Declaring war on demons would be like declaring war on monkeys. In fact, monkeys would be a bigger threat. There are more of them. And anyway, the demons can’t even fully materialize unless we shoot them full of silver.”

“I am sure they will find a way around that. Or one could get through accidentally, just like Abbot, then open the gates for the rest of them.”

Tags: Eoin Colfer Artemis Fowl Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net