فصل 13

CHAPTER 13: INTO THE BREACH

BELOW KOBOI LABORATORIES

AN LEP shuttle is shaped like a teardrop, bottom heavy with thrusters and a nose that could cut through steel. Of course our heroes weren’t in an LEP shuttle, they were in the ambassador’s luxury cruiser. Comfort was definitely favoured over speed. It had a nose like a gnome’s behind. Bulky and expensive-looking, with a grill you could use to barbecue buffalo.

‘So, you’re saying this fissure is going to open up for a couple of minutes and I have to fly through. And that’s the entire plan?’ said Holly.

‘It’s the best we’ve got,’ said Root glumly.

‘Well, at least we’ll be in padded seats when we get squashed. This thing handles like a three-legged rhinoceros.’ ‘How was I to know?’ grumbled Root. ‘This was supposed to be a routine run. This shuttle has an excellent stereo.’ Butler raised his hand. ‘Listen. What’s that sound?’

They listened. The noise came from below them, like a giant clearing its throat.

Holly consulted the keel cams.

‘Flare,’ she announced. ‘Big sucker. It’ll be roasting our tail feathers any minute.’ The rock face before them cracked and groaned in constant expansion and retraction. Fissures heaved like grinning mouths lined with black teeth.

‘That’s it. Let’s go,’ urged Mulch. ‘That fissure is going to seal up faster than a stink worm’s –’ ‘Not enough room yet,’ snapped Holly. ‘This is a shuttle, not one fat dwarf riding stolen wings.’ Mulch was too scared to be insulted. ‘Just move it. It’ll widen as we go.’ Generally Holly would have waited for Root to give the green light. But this was her area. No one was going to argue with Captain Holly Short at the controls of a shuttle.

The chasm shuddered open another metre.

Holly gritted her teeth. ‘Hold on to your ears,’ she said, ramming the thrusters to maximum.

The craft’s occupants clutched their armrests, and more than one of them closed their eyes. But not Artemis.

He couldn’t. There was something morbidly fascinating about flying into an uncharted tunnel at a reckless speed, with only a kleptomaniac dwarf’s word for what lay at the other end.

Holly concentrated on her instruments. Hull cameras and sensors fed information to various screens and speakers. Sonar was going crazy, beeping so fast it was almost a continuous whine. Fixed halogen headlights fed frightening images to the monitors, and laser radar drew a green 3D line picture on a dark screen. Then, of course, there was the quartz windscreen. But with sheets of rock dust and larger debris, the naked eye was next to useless.

‘Temperature increasing,’ she muttered, glancing at the rear-view monitor. An orange magma column blasted past the fissure mouth, spilling over into the tunnel.

They were in a desperate race. The fissure was closing behind them and expanding before the craft’s prow. The noise was terrific. Thunder in a bubble.

Mulch covered his ears. ‘Next time, I’ll take Howler’s Peak.’ ‘Quiet, convict,’ growled Root. ‘This was all your idea.’ Their arguing was interrupted by a tremendous grating, sending sparks dancing across the windscreen.

‘Sorry,’ apologized Captain Short. ‘There goes our communications array.’ She flipped the craft sideways, scraping between two shifting plates. The magma’s heat coated the rock face, dragging the plates together. A jagged edge clipped the shuttle’s rear as the plates crashed behind them. A giant’s handclap. Butler held his Sig Sauer. It was a comfort thing.

Then they were through, spiralling into a cavern towards three enormous titanium rods.

‘There,’ gasped Mulch. ‘The foundation rods.’

Holly rolled her eyes. ‘You don’t say,’ she groaned, firing the docking clamps.

Mulch had drawn another diagram. This one looked like a bendy snake.

‘We’re being led by an idiot with a crayon,’ said Root, with deceptive calmness.

‘I got you this far, didn’t I, Julius?’ said Mulch, pouting.

Holly was finishing the last bottle of mineral water. A good third of it went over her head.

‘Don’t you dare start sulking, dwarf,’ she said. ‘As far as I can see, we’re stuck in the centre of the Earth, with no way out and no communications.’ Mulch backed up a step. ‘I can see you’re a bit tense after the flight. Let’s all calm down now, shall we?’ Nobody looked very calm. Even Artemis seemed slightly shaken by the ordeal. Butler still hadn’t let go of the Sig Sauer.

‘That’s the hard bit over. We’re in the foundations now. The only way is up.’ ‘Oh really, convict?’ said Root. ‘And how do you suggest we go up exactly?’ Mulch plucked a carrot from the cooler, waving it at his diagram. ‘This here is…’ ‘A snake?’

‘No, Julius. It’s one of the foundation rods.’

‘The solid titanium foundation rods, sunk in impregnable bedrock?’ ‘The very ones. Except one isn’t exactly solid.’

Artemis nodded. ‘I thought so. You cut corners on this work, didn’t you, Mulch?’ Mulch was unrepentant. ‘You know what building regulations are like. Solid titanium pillars? Do you have any idea how expensive that is? Threw our estimate right off. So me ‘n’ cousin Nord decided to forget the titanium packing.’ ‘But you had to fill that column with something,’ interrupted the commander. ‘Koboi would have run scans.’ Mulch nodded guiltily.

‘We hooked up the sewage pipes to it for a couple of days. The sonographs came up clean.’ Holly felt her throat clench. ‘Sewage. You mean…’

‘No. Not any more. That was a hundred years ago, it’s just clay now. Very good clay as it happens.’ Root’s face could have boiled a large cauldron of water.

‘You expect us to climb through twenty metres of… manure?’ The dwarf shrugged. ‘Hey, do I care? Stay here forever if you want, I’m going up the pipe.’ Artemis did not like this sudden turn of events. Running, jumping, injury. OK. But sewage? ‘This is your plan?’ he managed to mutter.

‘What’s the matter, Mud Boy,’ smirked Mulch. ‘Afraid of getting your hands dirty?’ It was only a figure of speech, Artemis knew. But true nevertheless. He glanced at his slender fingers. Yesterday morning they were pianist’s fingers with manicured nails. Today they could have belonged to a builder.

Holly clapped Artemis on the shoulder. ‘OK,’ she declared. ‘Let’s do it. As soon as we save the Lower Elements, we can get back to rescuing your father.’ Holly noticed a change in Artemis’s face. Almost as if his features weren’t sure how to arrange themselves. She paused, realizing what she had said. For her, the remark had been a casual encouragement, the kind of thing an officer said every day. But it seemed as though Artemis was not accustomed to being a member of a team.

‘Don’t think I’m getting chummy or anything. It’s just that when I give my word, I stick to it.’ Artemis decided not to respond. He’d already been punched once today.

*

They descended from the shuttle on a folding stairway.

Artemis stepped on to the surface, picking his way through the jagged stones and construction debris abandoned by Mulch and his cousin a century earlier. The cavern was lit by the star-like twinkle of rock phosphorescence.

‘This place is a geological marvel,’ he exclaimed. ‘The pressure at this depth should be crushing us, but it isn’t.’ He knelt to examine a fungus sprouting from a rusting paint tin. ‘There’s even life.’ Mulch wrenched the remains of a hammer from between two rocks.

‘So that’s where this got to. We overdid it a bit on the explosives, blasting the shaft for these columns. Some of our waste must have… fallen down here.’ Holly was appalled. Pollution is an abomination to the People.

‘You’ve broken so many laws here, Mulch, I don’t even have the fingers to count them. When you get that two-day head start, you better move fast, because I’m going to be the one chasing you.’ ‘Here we are,’ said Mulch, ignoring the threat. When you’d heard as many as he had, they just rolled right off.

There was a hole bored into one of the columns. Mulch rubbed the edges fondly.

‘Diamond laser cutter. Little nuclear battery. That baby could cut through anything.’ ‘I remember that cutter too,’ said Root. ‘You nearly decapitated me with it once.’ Mulch sighed. ‘Happy days, eh, Julius?’

Root’s reply was a swift kick in the behind. ‘Less talk, more eating dirt, convict.’ Holly placed her hand into the hole. ‘Air currents. The pressure field from the city must have equalized this cave over the years. That’s why we’re not flat as manta rays right now.’ ‘I see,’ said Butler and Root simultaneously. Another lie for the list.

Mulch undid his bum-flap.

‘I’ll tunnel up to the top and wait for you there. Clear as much of the debris as you can. I’ll spread the recycled mud around, to avoid closing up the shaft.’ Artemis groaned. The idea of crawling through Mulch’s recyclings was almost intolerable. Only the thought of his father kept him going.

Mulch stepped into the shaft. ‘Stand back,’ he warned, unhinging his jaw.

Butler moved quickly – he was not about to get nailed by dwarf gas again.

Mulch disappeared up to his waist in the titanium column. In moments he had disappeared entirely. The pipe began to shudder with strange, unappetizing sounds. Chunks of clay clattered against the metal walls. A constant stream of condensed air and debris spiralled from the hole.

‘Amazing,’ breathed Artemis. ‘What I could do with ten like him. Fort Knox would be a pushover.’ ‘Don’t even think about it,’ warned Root. He turned to Butler. ‘What have we got?’ The manservant drew his pistol. ‘One Sig Sauer handgun with twelve rounds in the magazine. That’s it. I’ll take the gun, as I’m the only one who can lift it. You two pick up whatever you can on the run.’ ‘And what about me?’ asked Artemis, even though he knew what was coming.

Butler looked his master straight in the eye. ‘I want you to stay here. This is a military operation. All you can do is get yourself killed.’ ‘But…’

‘My job is to protect you, Artemis, and this is quite possibly the safest spot on the planet.’ Artemis didn’t argue. In truth, these facts had already occurred to him. Sometimes being a genius was a burden.

‘Very well, Butler. I shall remain here. Unless…’

Butler’s eyes narrowed. ‘Unless what?’

Artemis gave a dangerous smile. ‘Unless I have an idea.’

POLICE PLAZA

In Police Plaza the situation was desperate. Captain Kelp had pulled the remaining forces into a circle behind overturned workstations. The goblins were taking pot shots through the doorway, and none of the warlocks had a drop of magic left in them. Anyone who got injured from now on, stayed injured.

The Council was huddled behind a wall of troops. All except Wing Commander Vinyáya, who had demanded to be given one of the electric rifles. She hadn’t missed yet.

The techs were crouched behind their desks, trying every code combination in the book to gain access to the Operations’ booth. Trouble didn’t hold out much hope on that front. If Foaly locked a door then it stayed locked.

Meanwhile, inside the booth, all the centaur could do was pound his fists in frustration. It was a sign of Cudgeon’s cruelty that he allowed Foaly to view the battle beyond the blast windows.

It seemed hopeless. Even if Julius and Holly had received his message, it was too late now to do anything. Foaly’s lips and throat were dry. Everything had deserted him. His computer, his intellect, his glib sarcasm. Everything.

BELOW KOBOI LABORATORIES

Something wet slapped Butler in the head.

‘What was that?’ he hissed at Holly, who was bringing up the rear.

‘Don’t ask,’ croaked Captain Short. Even through her helmet filters the smell was foul.

The contents of the column had had a century to ferment, and smelled as toxic as the day it went in. Probably worse. At least, thought the bodyguard, I don’t have to eat this stuff.

Root was on point, his helmet lights cutting swathes through the darkness. The pillar was on a forty-degree angle, with regular grooves that were intended to anchor the titanium block filling.

Mulch had done a sterling job of breaking down the pipe’s contents. But the recycling had to go somewhere. Mulch, in fairness to him, chewed every mouthful thoroughly to avoid too many lumps.

The raiding party struggled on grimly, trying not to think about what they were actually doing. By the time they caught up with the dwarf, he was clinging to a ridge, face constricted in pain.

‘What is it, Mulch?’ asked Root, concern accidentally slipping into his tones.

‘Geddup,’ Mulch groaned. ‘Geddup rih now.’

Root’s eyes widened with something approaching panic. ‘Up!’ he hissed. ‘Everybody up!’ They scrambled into the tight wedge of space above the dwarf. Not a second too soon. Mulch relaxed, releasing a burst of dwarf gas that could have inflated a circus tent. He rehinged his jaw.

‘That’s better,’ he sighed. ‘Lotta air in that soil. Now would you mind getting that beam out of my face. You know how I feel about light.’ The commander obliged, switching to infra-red.

‘OK, now we’re up here, how do we get out? You didn’t bring your cutter, I seem to remember.’ The dwarf grinned. ‘No problem. A good thief always plans on a return visit. See here.’ Mulch was pointing to an area of titanium that seemed exactly like the rest of the pipe. ‘I patched this up last time. It’s just flexi-bond.’ Root had to smile. ‘You are a cunning reprobate. How did we ever catch you?’ ‘Luck,’ replied the dwarf, elbowing a section of the pipe. A large circle popped out, revealing the hundred-year-old hole. ‘Welcome to Koboi Labs.’ They clambered into a dimly lit corridor. Loaded hover trolleys were stacked four deep around the walls. Strip lighting operated with minimum illumination overhead.

‘I know this place,’ noted Root. ‘I’ve been here before on inspection for the special-weapons permits. We’re two corridors across from the computer centre. We have a real chance of making it.’ ‘What about these DNA stun cannons?’ enquired Butler.

‘Tricky,’ admitted the commander. ‘If the cannon’s onboard doesn’t recognize you, you’re dead. They can be programmed to reject entire species.’ ‘Tricky,’ agreed the manservant.

‘I’m betting they’re not active,’ continued Root. ‘First, if this place is crawling with goblins, they hardly came in through the front door. And second, if Foaly is being blamed for this little uprising, Koboi will want to pretend they had no weapons, just like the LEP.’ ‘Strategy?’ asked Butler.

‘Not much,’ admitted the commander. ‘Once we turn the corner, we’re on camera. So down the corridor as fast as you can, hit anything that gets in your way. If it has a weapon, confiscate it. Mulch, you stay here and widen the tunnel, we may need to get out fast. Ready?’ Holly extended a hand. ‘Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.’ The commander and manservant laid their hands on hers. ‘Likewise.’ They headed down the corridor. Two hundred goblins versus our three virtually unarmed heroes. It was going to be close.

INNER SANCTUM, KOBOI LABORATORIES

‘Intruders,’ squealed Opal Koboi delightedly. ‘Inside the building.’ Cudgeon crossed to the surveillance plasma screen.

‘I do believe it’s Julius. Amazing. Obviously your hit team was exaggerating, General Sputa.’ Sputa licked his eyeballs furiously. Lieutenant Nyle would be losing his skin before shedding season.

Cudgeon whispered into Opal’s ear. ‘Can we activate the DNA cannons?’ The pixie shook her head. ‘Not immediately. They’ve been reprogrammed to reject goblin DNA. It would take a few minutes.’ Cudgeon turned to the four goblin generals. ‘Have an armoured squad come up behind and another one from the flank. We can trap them at the door. There will be no way out.’ Cudgeon stared raptly at the plasma screen. ‘This is even better than I’d planned. Now, my old friend, Julius, it’s my turn to humiliate you.’ Artemis was meditating. This was a time for concentration. He sat cross-legged on a rock, visualizing the various rescue strategies that could be utilized when they returned to the Arctic. If the Mafiya managed to set up the drop before Artemis could reach them, then there was only one plan that could work. And it was a high-risk plan. Artemis searched deeper inside his brain. There must be another way.

He was disturbed by an orchestral noise emanating from the titanium column. It sounded like a sustained note on a bassoon. Dwarf gas, he reasoned. The column had decent acoustics.

What he needed was a brainwave. One crystal thought that would slice through this mire he had become embroiled in, and save the day.

After eight minutes, he was interrupted again. Not gas this time. A cry for help. Mulch was in trouble, and in pain.

Artemis was about to suggest that Butler deal with it when he realized that his bodyguard wasn’t there. Off on his mission to save the Lower Elements. It was up to him.

He poked his head into the column. It was black as the inside of an old boot, and twice as pungent. Artemis decided that an LEP helmet was his first requirement. He quickly retrieved a spare from the shuttle and, after a moment’s experimentation, activated the lights and seals.

‘Mulch? Are you up there?’

No reply. Could this be a trap? Was it possible that he, Artemis Fowl, was about to fall for the oldest ruse in the book? Entirely possible, he decided. But in spite of that, he couldn’t really afford to take chances with that hairy little creature’s life. Somewhere since Los Angeles, and against his better judgement, he had bonded with Mister Diggums. Artemis shuddered. It was happening more and more since his mother’s return to sanity.

Artemis climbed into the tube, beginning his journey to the disc of light above. The smell was horrendous. His shoes were ruined, and no amount of dry-cleaning could redeem the St Bartleby’s blazer. Mulch had better be in a lot of pain.

When he reached the entrance, he found Mulch writhing on the floor, face contorted in genuine agony.

‘What is it?’ he asked, peeling off the helmet and kneeling by the dwarf’s side.

‘Blockage in my gut,’ grunted the dwarf, beads of sweat sliding down his beard hairs. ‘Something hard. Can’t break it down.’ ‘What can I do?’ Artemis asked, though he dreaded the possible replies.

‘My left boot. Take it off.’

‘Your boot? Did you say boot?’

‘Yes,’ howled the dwarf, pain stiffening his entire torso. ‘Get it off!’ Artemis couldn’t stifle a relieved sigh. He’d been fearing much worse. He hefted the dwarf’s leg into his lap and pulled at the climbing boot.

‘Nice boots,’ he commented.

‘Rodeo Drive,’ gasped Mulch. ‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind.’ ‘Sorry.’

The boot slid off, revealing a not-quite-so-designer sock, complete with toe holes and darn patches.

‘Little toe,’ said Mulch, eyes closed with pain.

‘Little toe what?’

‘Squeeze the joint. Hard.’

Squeeze the joint. Must be a reflexology thing. Every part of the body corresponds to an area of the foot. The body’s keyboard, so to speak. Practised in the Orient for centuries.

‘Very well. If you insist.’

Artemis placed his finger and thumb around Mulch’s hairy toe. It could have been his imagination, but it seemed that the hairs parted to allow him access.

‘Squeeze,’ gasped the dwarf. ‘Why aren’t you squeezing?’

Artemis wasn’t squeezing because his eyes were crossed, looking at the laser barrel in the middle of his forehead.

Lieutenant Nyle, who was holding the weapon, couldn’t believe his luck. He’d single-handedly captured two intruders, plus he’d discovered their bolt hole. Who said hanging back to avoid the fighting didn’t have advantages? This was turning out to be an exceptional revolution for him. He’d be colonel before shedding his third skin.

‘On your feet,’ he ordered, panting blue flames. Even through the translator it sounded reptilian.

Artemis stood slowly, lifting Mulch’s leg with him. The dwarf’s bum-flap flopped open.

‘What’s wrong with him anyway?’ asked Nyle, bending in for a closer look.

‘Something he ate,’ said Artemis, and squeezed the joint.

The resulting explosion knocked the goblin off his feet, sending him tumbling down the corridor. There was something you didn’t see every day.

Mulch hopped to his feet.

‘Thanks, kid. I thought I was a goner there. Must’ve been something hard. Granite maybe, or diamond.’ Artemis nodded. Not ready for words.

‘Those goblins are dumb. Did you see the look on his face?’ Artemis shook his head. Still not ready.

‘Do you want to go look?’

The tactless humour snapped Artemis out of his daze. ‘That goblin. I doubt he was on his own.’ Mulch buttoned up his bum-flap. ‘Nope. A whole squadron of ‘em just went past. This guy must have been trying to avoid the action. Typical goblin.’ Artemis rubbed his temples. There must be something he could do to help his friends. He had the highest tested IQ in Europe, for heaven’s sake.

‘Mulch, I have an important question for you.’

‘I suppose I owe you one, for saving my hide.’

Artemis draped an arm around the dwarf’s shoulder. ‘I know how you got into Koboi Labs. But you couldn’t go back that way, the flare would get you. So, how did you get out?’ Mulch grinned. ‘Simple. I activated the alarm, then left in the LEP uniform I came in.’ Artemis scowled. ‘No use, there must be another way. There has to be.’ The DNA cannons were obviously out of commission. Root was just starting to feel optimistic when he heard the thunder of approaching boots.

‘D’Arvit. Rumbled. You two keep going. I’ll hold them here as long as I can.’ ‘No, Commander,’ said Butler. ‘With respect, we only have one weapon, and I can hit a lot more with it than you. I’ll take them coming around the corner. You try to get the door open.’ Holly opened her mouth to argue. But who was going to argue with a man that size?

‘OK. Good luck. If you’re wounded, lie as still as you can until I get back. Four minutes, remember.’ Butler nodded. ‘I remember.’

‘And, Butler?’

‘Yes, Captain?’

‘That little misunderstanding last year. When you and Artemis kidnapped me.’ Butler gazed at the ceiling. He would have stared at his shoes, but Holly was in the way. ‘Yes, that. I’ve been meaning to talk to…’ ‘Just forget it. After this, all square.’

‘Holly, move it out,’ ordered Root. ‘Butler, don’t let them get too close.’ Butler wrapped his fingers around the gun’s moulded grip. He looked like an armed bear. ‘They better not. For their sake.’ Artemis climbed up on a hover trolley, tapping one of the overhead conduits that ran the length of the corridor.

‘This pipe appears to run along the entire ceiling structure. What is it, a ventilation system?’ Mulch snorted. ‘I wish. It’s the plasma supply for the DNA cannons.’ ‘So why didn’t you come in this way?’

‘Oh, a little matter of there being enough charge in every drop of plasma to fry a troll.’ Artemis placed his palm against the metal. ‘What if the cannons weren’t operational?’ ‘Once the cannons are deactivated, the plasma is just so much radioactive slop.’ ‘Radioactive?’

Mulch tugged at his beard thoughtfully. ‘Actually, Julius reckons the cannons have been turned off.’ ‘Any way to be certain?’

‘We could open this unopenable panel.’ Mulch ran his fingers along the curved surface. ‘Ahh, see here. A micro-keyhole. To service the cannons. Even plasma needs recharging.’ He pointed to a tiny hole in the metal. It could have been a speck of dirt. ‘Now, observe a master at work.’ The dwarf fed one of his chin hairs into the hole. When the tip reappeared, Mulch plucked the hair out by the root. The hair died as soon as Mulch plucked it, stiffening in rigor mortis and retaining the precise shape of the lock’s interior.

Mulch held his breath, twisting the makeshift key. The hatch dropped open.

‘That, my boy, is talent.’

Inside the pipe, an orange jelly pulsed gently. Occasional sparks roiled in its depths. The plasma was too dense even to spill from the hatch, and hung on to its cylindrical shape.

Mulch squinted through the wobbling gel. ‘Deactivated all right. If that stuff were live, our faces would be getting a nice tan about now.’ ‘What about those sparks?’

‘Residual charge. They’d give you a bit of a tingle, but nothing serious.’ Artemis nodded. ‘Right,’ he said, strapping on the helmet.

Mulch blanched. ‘You are not serious, Mud Whelp? Do you have any idea what will happen if those cannons are activated?’ ‘I’m trying not to think about it.’

‘It’s probably just as well.’ The dwarf shook his head, bewildered. ‘OK. You’ve got thirty metres to go, and no more than ten minutes of air in that helmet. Keep the filters closed. The air may get a bit stale after a while, but it’s better than sucking plasma. And here, take this.’ He plucked the stiffened hair from the keyhole.

‘What for?’

‘I presume you will want to get out again at the other end. Or hadn’t you thought of that, genius boy?’ Artemis swallowed. He hadn’t. There was more to this heroism thing than rushing in blindly.

‘Just feed it in gently. Remember, it’s hair not metal.’

‘Feed it in gently. Got it.’

‘And don’t use any lights. Halogen could reactivate the plasma.’ Artemis felt his head beginning to spin.

‘And make sure you get foamed as soon as you can. The anti-rad canisters are blue. They’re everywhere in this facility.’ ‘Blue canisters. Anything else, Mister Diggums?’

‘Well, there are the plasma snakes…’

Artemis’s knees almost collapsed. ‘You’re not serious?’

‘No,’ Mulch conceded. ‘I’m not. Now, your reach is about half a metre. So calculate for sixty pulls and then get out of there.’ ‘Slightly under half a metre I’d say. Perhaps sixty-three pulls.’ He placed the dwarf hair inside his breast pocket.

Mulch shrugged. ‘Whatever, kid. It’s your skin. Now in you go.’ The dwarf interlaced his fingers and Artemis stepped into the makeshift stirrup. He was considering changing his mind when Mister Diggums heaved him into the pipe. The orange gel sucked him in, enveloping his body in a second.

The plasma coiled around him like a living being, popping bubbles of air trapped in his clothing. A residual spark brushed his leg, sending sharp pain spasming through his body. A bit of a tingle?

Artemis gazed out through the orange gel. Mulch was there giving him the thumbs up. Grinning like a loon. Artemis decided that if he made it through this, then he would have to place the dwarf on the payroll.

He began to crawl blindly. One pull, two pulls…

Sixty-three seemed a long way off.

Butler cocked the Sig Sauer. The footsteps were earsplitting now, bouncing off the metal walls. Shadows stretched around the corner, ahead of their owners. The manservant took approximate aim.

A head appeared. Froglike. Licking its own eyeballs. Butler pulled the trigger. The slug punched a melon-sized hole in the wall above the goblin’s head. The head was hurriedly withdrawn. Of course, Butler had missed on purpose. Scared was always better than dead. But it couldn’t last forever. Twelve more shots to be precise.

The goblins grew braver, sneaking out further and further. Eventually, Butler knew he would be forced to shoot one.

The manservant decided that it was time to go close-quarters. He rose from his hunkers, making slightly less noise than a panther, and hurtled down the corridor towards the enemy.

There were only two men on the planet better educated in the various martial arts than Butler, and he was related to one of them. The other lived on an island in the South China Seas and spent his days meditating and beating up palm trees. You really had to feel sorry for those goblins.

The B’ wa Kell had two guards on the sanctum door. Both armed to the teeth and both as thick as several short planks. In spite of repeated warnings, they were both falling asleep inside their helmets when the elves came running around the corner.

‘Look,’ mumbled one. ‘Elves.’

‘Huh?’ said the other, the denser of the two.

‘Don’t matter,’ said number one. ‘LEP don’t got no guns.’ Number two gave his eyeballs a lick. ‘Yeah, but they sure are irritable.’ And that was when Holly’s boot impacted with his chest, slamming him into the wall.

‘Hey,’ complained number one, bringing up his own gun. ‘Not fair.’ Root didn’t bother with fancy spinning kicks, preferring instead to body-slam the sentry against the titanium door.

‘There,’ panted Holly. ‘Two down. That wasn’t so hard.’

A premature statement as it happened. Because that was when the rest of the two-hundred-strong B’ wa Kell squadron thundered down the perpendicular corridor.

‘That wasn’t so hard,’ mimicked the commander, curling his fingers into fists.

Artemis’s concentration was failing him. There seemed to be more sparks now, and each shock disrupted his focus. He had lost count twice. He was at fifty-four now. Or fifty-six. The difference was life or death.

He trawled ahead, reaching out one arm and then the other, swimming through a turgid sea of gel. Vision was next to useless. Everything was orange. And the only confirmation he had that any progress was being made was when his knee sank into a recess, where the plasma diverted into a cannon.

Artemis punched one last time through the gel, filling his lungs with stale air – sixty-three. That was it. Soon the air purifiers in his helmet would be useless and he would be breathing carbon dioxide.

He placed his fingertips against the pipe’s inner curve, searching for a keyhole. Again his eyes were no help. He couldn’t even activate the helmet lamps for fear of igniting a river of plasma.

Nothing. No indent. He was going to die here alone. He would never be great. Artemis felt his brain going, spiralling off into a black tunnel. Concentrate, he told himself. Focus. There was a spark approaching. A silver star in the sunset. It coiled lazily along the tube, lighting each section it passed.

There! A hole. The hole. Revealed for a moment by the passing spark. Artemis reached into his pocket like a drunken swimmer, pulling out the dwarf hair. Would it work? There was no reason this access port should have a different locking mechanism.

Artemis slid the hair into the keyhole. Gently. He squinted through the gel. Was it going in? He thought so. Perhaps sixty per cent sure. It would have to be enough.

Artemis twisted. The flap dropped open. He imagined Mulch’s grin. That, my boy, is talent.

It was quite possible that every enemy he had in the underworld was waiting outside that hatch, big nasty guns pointed at his head. At that point, Artemis didn’t much care. He couldn’t bear one more of his own oxygen-depleted breaths or one more excruciating shock to his body.

So, Artemis Fowl poked his helmet through the plasma’s surface. He flipped the visor, savouring what could very well be his last breath. Lucky for him, the room’s occupants were looking at the view screen. Watching his friends fight for their lives. Not so lucky for his friends.

There are too many, thought Butler as he rounded the corner and saw almost an entire army of B’ wa Kell slotting fresh batteries into their weapons.

The goblins, when they noticed Butler, began to think things like, O gods, it’s a troll in clothes; or, why didn’t I listen to Mummy and stay out of the gangs?

Then Butler was above them and on the way down. He landed like the proverbial tonne of bricks, except with considerably more precision. Three goblins were out cold before they knew they’d been hit. One shot himself in the foot and several others lay down pretending to be unconscious.

Artemis watched it all on the control room’s plasma screen. Along with all the other occupants of the inner sanctum. It was entertainment to them. TV. The goblin generals chuckled and winced as Butler decimated their men. It was all immaterial. There were hundreds of goblins in the building and no way into this room.

Artemis had seconds to decide on a course of action. Seconds. And he had no idea how to use any of this technology. He scanned the walls below him for something he could use. Anything.

There. On a small picture-in-picture screen, away from the main console, was Foaly. Trapped in the Operations’ booth. The centaur would have a plan. He had certainly had time to come up with one. Artemis knew that as soon as he emerged from the conduit he was a target. They would kill him without hesitation.

He dragged himself from within the tube, falling to Earth with a thick slap. His saturated clothes slowed his progress to the monitor bank. Heads were turning, he could see them out the corner of his eye. Figures came his way. He didn’t know how many.

There was a reed mike below Foaly’s image. Artemis pressed the button.

‘Foaly!’ he rasped, globs of gel splatting on to the console. ‘Can you hear me?’ The centaur reacted instantly. ‘Fowl? What happened to you?’ ‘Five seconds, Foaly. I need a plan or we’re all dead.’

Foaly nodded curtly. ‘I’ve got one ready. Put me on all screens.’ ‘What? How?’

‘Press the conference button. Yellow. A circle with lines shooting out, like the sun. Do you see it?’ Artemis saw it. He pressed it. Then something pressed him. Very painfully.

General Scalene first noticed the creature flopping out of the plasma pipe. What was it? A pixie? No. No, by all the gods. It was human.

‘Look!’ he cackled. ‘A Mud Man.’

The others were oblivious, too interested in the spectacle on-screen.

But not Cudgeon. A human in the inner sanctum. How could this be? He seized Scalene by the shoulders. ‘Kill him!’ All the generals were listening now. There was killing to be done. With no danger to themselves. They would do this the old-fashioned way: with claws and fireballs.

The human stumbled to one of the consoles and they surrounded him, tongues dangling excitedly. Sputa spun the human around to face his fate.

One by one, the generals conjured fireballs around their fists, closing in for the kill. But then something made them completely forget the injured human. Cudgeon’s face had appeared on all the screens. And the B’ wa Kell executive didn’t like what it was saying: ‘– Just when things are at their most desperate, I shall instruct Opal to return weapons control to the LEP. The B’ wa Kell will be rendered unconscious, and you will be blamed for the entire affair, provided you survive, which I doubt –’ Sputa whirled on his ally. ‘Cudgeon! What does this mean?’ The generals advanced, hissing and spitting. ‘Treachery, Cudgeon! Treachery!’ Cudgeon was not unduly worried. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Treachery.’ It took Cudgeon a moment to figure out what had happened. It was Foaly. He must have recorded their conversation somehow. How tiresome. Still, you had to hand it to the centaur. He was resourceful.

Cudgeon quickly crossed to the main console, shutting off the broadcast. It wouldn’t do for Opal to hear the rest of it. Particularly the part concerning her tragic accident. He really would have to cut out this grandstanding. Still, no matter. Everything was on track.

‘Treachery!’ hissed Scalene.

‘OK,’ admitted Cudgeon. ‘Treachery.’ And directly after that he said, ‘Computer, activate DNA cannons. Authorization Cudgeon B. Alpha alpha two two.’ On her hoverchair, Opal spun with sheer joy, clapping her tiny hands in delight. Briar was sooo ugly, but he was sooo evil.

Throughout Koboi Labs, robot DNA cannons perked up in their cradles and ran swift self-diagnostics. Apart from a slight drain in the inner sanctum, everything was in order. And so, without further ado, they began to obey their program parameters and target anything with goblin DNA at a rate of ten blasts per second.

It was swift and, as with everything Koboi, efficient. In less than five seconds, the cannons settled back into their cradles. Mission accomplished: two hundred unconscious goblins throughout the facility.

‘Phew,’ said Holly, stepping over rows of snoring goblins. ‘Close one.’ ‘Tell me about it,’ agreed Root.

Cudgeon kicked Sputa’s sleeping body.

‘You see, you haven’t accomplished anything, Artemis Fowl,’ he said, drawing his Redboy.

‘Your friends are out there. You’re in here. And the goblins are unconscious, soon to be mind-wiped with some particularly unstable chemicals. Just as I planned.’ He smiled at Opal hovering above them. ‘Just as we planned.’ Opal returned the smile.

At another time, Artemis would have been forced to pass a snide comment. But the possibility of imminent death was occupying his thoughts for the moment.

‘Now, I simply reprogram the cannons to target your friends, return power to the LEP cannons, and take over the world. And nobody can get in here to stop me.’ Of course, you should never say something like that, especially when you’re an arch-villain. It’s just asking for trouble.

Butler hurried down the corridor, catching up with the others outside the inner sanctum. He could see Artemis’s predicament through the door’s quartz pane. In spite of all his efforts, Master Artemis had still managed to place himself in mortal danger. How was a bodyguard supposed to do his job when his charge insisted on jumping into bear pits, so to speak?

Butler felt the testosterone building in his system. One door was all that separated him from Artemis. One little door, designed to withstand fairies with ray guns. He took several steps backwards.

Holly could tell what he was thinking. ‘Don’t bother. That door is reinforced.’ The manservant didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The real Butler was submerged beneath layers of adrenalin and brute force.

With a roar, Butler charged the entrance, concentrating all of his considerable might in the triangular point of his shoulder. It was a blow that would have felled a medium-sized hippopotamus. And while this door was tested for plasma dispersion and moderate physical resistance, it was certainly not Butler-proof. The metal portal crumpled like tin foil.

Butler’s momentum took him halfway across the inner sanctum’s rubber tiling. Holly and Root followed, pausing only to grab some Softnose lasers from the unconscious goblins.

Cudgeon moved fast, dragging Artemis upright. ‘Don’t move, any of you. Or I’ll kill the Mud Boy.’ Butler kept right on going. His last rational thought had been to disable Cudgeon. Now this was his sole aim in life. He raced forward, arms outstretched.

Holly dived desperately, latching on to Butler’s belt. He dragged her like a string of cans behind a wedding car.

‘Butler, stop,’ she grunted.

The bodyguard ignored her.

Holly hung on, digging in her heels. ‘Stop!’ she repeated, this time layering her voice with the mesmer.

Butler seemed to wake up. He shook the cave man from his system.

‘That’s right, Mud Man,’ said Cudgeon. ‘Listen to Captain Short. Surely we can work something out here.’ ‘No deals, Briar,’ said Root. ‘It’s all over, so just put the Mud Boy down.’ Cudgeon cocked the Redboy. ‘I’ll put him down all right.’ This was Butler’s worst nightmare. His charge was in the hands of a psychopath with nothing to lose. And there was nothing he could do about it.

A phone rang.

‘I think it’s mine,’ said Artemis automatically.

Another ring. Definitely his mobile phone. Amazing the thing worked at all really, considering what it had been through. Artemis ripped open the case.

‘Yes?’

It was one of those frozen moments. Nobody knew what to expect.

Artemis tossed the handset at Opal Koboi. ‘It’s for you.’ The pixie swooped low to catch the tiny mobile phone. Cudgeon’s chest heaved. His body knew what was happening even if his brain hadn’t figured it out yet.

Opal placed the tiny speaker to her pointed ear.

‘– Really, Foaly,’ said Cudgeon’s voice. ‘Do you think I’d go to all this trouble to share power? Oh no. As soon as this charade is over, Miss Koboi will have a tragic accident. Perhaps several tragic accidents –’ All colour drained from Opal’s face. ‘You!’ she screeched.

‘It’s a trick!’ protested Cudgeon. ‘They’re trying to turn us against each other.’ But his eyes told the real story.

Pixies are feisty creatures, in spite of their size. They put up with so much and then explode. For Opal Koboi, it was explosion time. She manipulated the Hoverboy’s controls, dropping in a steep dive.

Cudgeon didn’t hesitate. He put two bursts into the chair, but the thick cushion protected its pilot.

Opal Koboi flew straight at her former partner. When the elf raised his arms to protect himself, Artemis slid to the floor. Briar Cudgeon was not so lucky. He became entangled in the Hoverboy’s safety rail and was borne aloft by the wildcat pixie. They whirled around the chamber ricocheting off several walls before crashing straight through the open plasma panel in the cannon Pipe Unfortunately for Cudgeon, the plasma was now active. He had activated it himself. But this irony did not occur to him as he was fried by a million radioactive tendrils.

Koboi was lucky. She was pitched from the hoverchair and lay moaning on the rubber tiles.

Butler was on the move before Cudgeon landed. He flipped Artemis over, checking his frame for wounds. A couple of scratches. Superficial. Nothing a shot of blue sparks wouldn’t take care of.

Holly checked Opal Koboi’s status.

‘She conscious?’ asked the commander.

Koboi’s eyes flickered open. Holly shut them with a swift rabbit punch to the forehead. ‘Nope,’ she said innocently. ‘Out cold.’ Root took one look at Cudgeon and realized there was no point checking for vitals. Maybe he was better off. The alternative would have been a couple of centuries in Howler’s Peak.

Artemis noticed movement by the door. It was Mulch. He was grinning and waving. Waving goodbye, just in case Julius forgot about his two-day head start. The dwarf pointed to a blue canister mounted on a wall bracket and he was gone.

‘Butler,’ rasped Artemis, with the absolute last ounce of his strength. ‘Could someone spray me down? And then could we please go to Murmansk?’ Butler was mystified. ‘Spray? What spray?’

Holly unhooked the anti-rad foam canister, flipping the safety catch. ‘Allow me,’ she said, grinning. ‘It would be my pleasure.’ She directed a jet of foul-smelling foam at Artemis. In seconds, he resembled a half-melted snowman. Holly laughed. Who said there were no perks in law enforcement?

OPERATIONS’ BOOTH

Once the cannon plasma had short-circuited Cudgeon’s remote control, power came rushing back to the Operations’ booth. Foaly lost no time in activating the subcutaneous sleepers planted below goblin offenders’ skin. That put half of the B’ wa Kell out of action straight away. Then he reprogrammed Police Plaza’s own DNA cannons for non-lethal bursts. It was all over in seconds.

Captain Kelp’s first thought was for his subordinates. ‘Sound off,’ he shouted, his voice slicing through the chaos. ‘Did we lose anyone?’ The squadron leaders answered in sequence, confirming that there had been no fatalities.

‘We were lucky,’ remarked a warlock medic. ‘There’s not a drop of magic left in the building. Not even a medipac. The next officer to go down would have stayed down.’ Trouble turned his attention to the Ops’ booth. He did not look amused.

Foaly depolarized the quartz window and opened a channel. ‘Hey, guys. I wasn’t behind this. It was Cudgeon. I just saved everyone. I sent a sound recording to a mobile phone; that wasn’t easy. You should be giving me a medal.’ Trouble clenched his fist. ‘Yeah, Foaly, come on out here and let me give you your medal.’ Foaly may not have had many social skills, but he knew thinly veiled threats when he heard them.

‘Oh no. Not me. I’m staying right here until Commander Root gets back. He can explain everything.’ The centaur blacked out the window and busied himself running a bug sweep. He would isolate every last trace of Opal Koboi and flush it out of the system. Paranoid was he? Who was the paranoid one now, Holly? Who was the paranoid one now?