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CHAPTER 12: Heart of Stone

Taipei 101, Fortieth Floor, Kimsichiog Gallery

ARTEMIS strode through the Kimsichiog Gallery lobby, flanked by Butler and Minerva.

‘We’re in an art gallery,’ said Minerva. ‘Do we really have time for art?’

Artemis halted, surprised. ‘There’s always time for art,’ he said. ‘But we’re here for a very special piece of art.’ ‘Which is?’

Artemis pointed at painted silk banners hanging at regular intervals from the ceiling. Each banner was emblazoned with a single dramatic spiralling rune.

‘I follow what is happening in the art world. This exhibition is of particular interest to me. The centrepiece is the remains of a fantastic sculpture. A semicircle of strange dancing creatures. Maybe ten thousand years old. Believed to have been found off the shore of Ireland, and yet here it is, in Taiwan, being exhibited by an American oil company.’

‘Artemis, why are we here? I need to get home to my father.’

‘Don’t you recognize the rune? Haven’t you seen it somewhere?’

Minerva remembered immediately. ‘Mais ouil Certainement. It is the rune from the demon’s forehead. The very same.’

Artemis snapped his fingers, and continued walking.

‘Exactly. When I met Number One, I knew his markings were familiar. It took me a while to remember where I had seen them before, but once I knew, then it occurred to me that maybe this sculpture was not a sculpture at all.’

Minerva’s brain raced ahead. ‘It was the ring of warlocks. From the original time spell.’

‘Precisely. What if they were not blasted into space. What if one of them had the quick thinking to use the gargoyle’s touch, to turn them all to stone.’

‘And if Number One is a warlock, then he is the only one who can reanimate them.’

‘Very good, Minerva. You catch on quickly. Young, quick and arrogant. You remind me of someone. Who could that be?’

‘Beats me,’ said Butler, rolling his eyes.

‘But how did you set this up?’ the French girl wondered. ‘The meeting site was Kong’s idea. I heard him on the phone.’

Artemis smiled at his own cleverness. ‘While he was thinking about it, I said “I’ll be wearing a burgundy tie. Pay attention to that. There are a hundred and one ways this could go wrong. If it does, the police could tie one of us up for a long time.” Do you see?’

Minerva plucked at a curl thoughtfully. ‘Mon Dieu! You used the power of suggestion. Tie pay. A hundred and one. Tie one.’

‘Or what Kong’s subconscious heard: “Taipei 101. Taiwan.”’

‘Brilliant, Artemis. Extraordinary. And coming from me, that means something.’

‘It was brilliant,’ said Artemis, with characteristic lack of modesty. ‘Allied to the fact that Kong’s second home is Taiwan, I was reasonably confident that it would work.’

There was a harried-looking man at the gallery’s reception desk. He was dressed in a neon blue suit, and his head was completely shaven, except for a spiral of stubble in the shape of No.l’s rune. He spoke in rapid Taiwanese into a Bluetooth headset clipped to his ear.

‘No, no. Salmon is not good enough. Squid and lobster are what we ordered. You have them here by eight o’clock, or I will come down there, slice you up and serve you as sushi instead.’

‘Trouble with the caterers?’ said Artemis pleasantly in Taiwanese, when the man had disconnected.

‘Yes,’ replied the man. ‘The exhibition is opening tonight and . . .’

The man stopped because he had looked up to see who he was talking to and spotted Butler.

‘Well, wow. Big. I mean hello. I am Mister Lin, the curator here. Can I help you?’

‘We were hoping for a private preview of the exhibition,’ said Artemis. ‘Specifically, the dancing figures.’

Mister Lin was so surprised he could do little more than bluster. ‘What? A what? Private? No, no, no. Impossible, out of the question. This is important art. Look at my head. Look! I don’t just do this for any old exhibition.’

‘I realize that, but my friend here, the large one, would be extremely happy if you could let us in for a minute.’

Mister Lin opened his mouth to answer, but something down the hall caught his attention.

‘What is that? Is that a muumuu?’

Artemis didn’t bother to look.

‘Oh, yes. We have disguised our fairy friend as a child in a muumuu.

Mister Lin frowned, and the spiral on his head moved. ‘Fairy friend? Oh, really? Who are you people? Are you from Pop Art Today! Is this one of Dougie Hemler’s postmodernist stunts?’

‘No. He’s a real fairy. A demon warlock to be precise. The one behind him, flying, is an elf.’

‘Flying? You tell Dougie Hemler from me, that there isn’t a chance in . . .’ Then he spotted Holly hovering over No.l’s head.’Oh!’

‘Oh!’ agreed Artemis. ‘That’s a fair reaction. Now, can we go in? It’s extremely important.’

‘Are you going to ruin the exhibition?’

‘Probably,’ Artemis admitted.

Mister Lin’s lip quivered as he spoke. ‘Then I can’t let you in.’

Holly darted forward, collapsing her helmet visor.

‘I think you can let us in,’ she said, her voice layered with magic. ‘Because these three humans are your oldest friends. You invited them for a sneak preview.’

‘And what about you two?’

‘Don’t worry about us. We’re not even here. We’re just inspiration for your next exhibition. So why don’t you buzz us all in.’

Mister Lin flapped a hand at Holly. ‘Why would I worry about you? You’re not even here. Just some silly idea flying round my head. As for you three guys, I am so glad you could make it.’

‘You don’t need to video us,’ prompted Holly. ‘Why don’t you shut down the gallery cameras?’

‘I’ll just switch off the gallery cameras - give you guys a little privacy.’ ‘Good idea.’

The curator had turned his attention to the pile of posters on his desk before the security door closed behind Artemis and his group.

The exhibition hall was ultra-modern, with dark wooden floors and slatted blinds. The walls were hung with photographs — giant blow-ups of the dancing figures in the centre of the room. The figures themselves were raised on a dais, to make their detail easier to view. There were so many spotlights on them, that there was barely a shadow on the stone.

No.l absently pulled off his bonnet, approaching the exhibit in a daze, as though he had been mesmerized and not the curator.

He climbed on to the dais, stroking the stone skin of the first figure.

‘Warlocks,’ he whispered. ‘Brothers.’

The sculpture was beautiful in its detail, and yet horrific in its subject matter. It consisted of four creatures, ranged in a broken semicircle, in the act of dancing or recoiling from something. They were small squat fairies, like No.l, with thrusting jaws, barrel chests and stumpy tails. Their bodies, limbs and foreheads were covered with swirling runes. The demons were all holding hands, and the fourth held on to the severed hand of the next in line.

‘The circle was broken,’ said No.l. ‘Something went wrong.’

Artemis climbed on to the dais beside him. ‘Can you bring them back?’

‘Bring them back?’ said No.l, startled.

‘From what I know of the gargoyle’s touch, it can transform living things to stone, and back again. You have the touch — can you use it?’

No.l rubbed his palms nervously. ‘I may have the touch. You know, maybe, and that’s a big maybe. I turned a wooden skewer to stone, at least I think it was stone. Maybe it was just coated with ash. I was under a lot of pressure. Everybody was watching. You know how it is; maybe you don’t. How many of you have even been in imp school? None, right?’

Artemis gripped his shoulder. ‘You’re babbling, Number One. You need to concentrate.’

‘Yes. Of course. Concentrate. Focus. Think.’

‘Good. Now, see if you can bring them back. It’s the only way to save Hybras.’

Holly shook her head. ‘Way to keep the pressure off, genius.’

Minerva was circling the exhibit in a daze not unlike her former captive’s.

‘These statues are actual demons. They have been among us all this time. I should have seen it, but Abbot looked nothing like this.’

Holly landed beside the girl, up close.

‘There are entire species that you know nothing about. You almost helped to wipe out one of them. You were lucky; if that had happened, a dozen Artemis Fowls would not have been enough to rescue you from the fairy police.’

‘I see. I said sorry already. Can we move on?’

Holly frowned at her. ‘Glad to see you’ve forgiven yourself so quickly.’

‘Harbouring feelings of guilt can have a negative effect on mental health.’

‘Child geniuses,’ growled Holly.

‘Genii,’ said Minerva.

On the dais, No.l was laying hands on one of the petrified demons.

‘So, back in Hybras. I just kind of held the skewer and got excited, then it started. I wasn’t trying to turn it into stone.’

‘Could you get excited now?’ asked Artemis.

‘What? Just like that? I don’t know. I feel a bit sick, to be honest. I think the muumuu is giving me a headache. It really is bright.’

‘Maybe if Butler gave you a fright?’

‘It’s not the same thing. I need some real pressure. I know Mister Butler wouldn’t actually kill me.’

‘I wouldn’t be too sure.’

‘Oh, ha ha. You’re a rum one, Artemis Fowl. I can see I’m going to have to stay on my toes around you.’

Butler was checking his pistol when he heard noises in the corridor. He ran to the security door and peered out through the small rectangle of toughened glass.

‘We’ve got company,’ he declared, cocking his pistol. ‘Kong found us.’

The bodyguard put a single round into the electronic lock, frying the chip and sealing the door.

‘It’s not going to take them long to open that door. We need to wake up those demons and get out of here. Now!’

Artemis squeezed No.1 ‘s shoulder, nodding at the security door.

‘That enough pressure for you?’

On the other side of the security door Kong and his men were halted by the sight of a smoking keypad.

‘Dammit,’ swore Kong. ‘He busted the lock. We’re going to have to shoot our way in. There’s no time for planning. Don, you have the case?’

Don held up the suitcase. ‘Right here.’

‘Good. If by some miracle there is a demon in there, clip the case on to its little wrist, good and tight. I don’t want to miss another chance.’

‘Will do. We have grenades, boss. We could blow the door.’

‘No,’ snapped Kong. ‘I need Minerva and I don’t want her injured. Anyone hurts her, I hurt them. Understood?’

Everybody understood. Nothing complicated about it.

Inside the gallery, Artemis was getting a little anxious. He had hoped that Kong would leave the building immediately, but the hit man must have spotted one of the exhibition posters in the elevator and come to the same conclusion that Artemis himself had.

‘Anything?’ he asked No.l, who was vaguely rubbing a statue’s arm.

‘Not yet. I’m trying.’

Artemis patted his shoulder. ‘Try a little harder. I have no desire to get involved in a firefight in a high-rise building. At the very least we would all end up in a Taiwanese prison.’

OK, thought No.l. Concentrate. Reach into the stone.

He held the stone warlock’s finger tightly and tried to feel something. From the little he knew about warlocks, he guessed that this was probably Qwan, the elder magician. The stone figure’s head was circled by a simple band with a spiral motif at the front — the sign of leadership.

How terrible it must have been, No.l reflected. To see your home dematerialize and be left behind. To know it was all your ownfault.

It was not my fault! snapped a voice in No.l ‘s head. It was that stupid demon N’zall. Now are you going to get me out of here or not?

No.l almost fainted. His breath came in short explosive gasps and his heart seemed to hike upwards in his chest.

Come on, young warlock. Release me! I have been waiting for a long, long time.

The voice, the presence, was inside the sculpture. It was Qwan.

Of course it’s Qwan. You’re holding my hand. Who did you think it was? You’re not a simpleton, are you? Just my luck. Wait ten thousand years and then a simpleton turns up.

‘I am not a simpleton!’ blurted No.l.

‘Of course not,’ said Artemis encouragingly. ‘Just do your best. I will instruct Butler to hold Kong back for as long as he can.’

No.l bit his lip and nodded. If he spoke aloud, it could get confusing. And this situation was confusing enough without him adding to it.

He would try thought-power. Qwan was speaking in his mind; maybe it would work the other way.

Of course it works! Qwan sent. And what is all that nonsense about cooked food? Just release me from this prison.

No.l winced, trying mentally to black out his dreams of a cooked banquet.

I don’t know how to set you free, he thought. I don’t know if I can.

Of course you can, responded Qwan. You have enough magic in you to teach a troll to ploy an instrument. Just let it out.

How? I have no idea how.

Qwan was silent for a moment, while he took a quick peek into No.l’s memories.

Oh, I see. You are a complete novice. No training of any kind. Just as well really. Without expert tuition you could have blown up half of Hybras. Very well, I will give you a little nudge in the right direction. I can’t do much from here, but maybe 1 can get your power flowing. It will get easier after this. Once you have been in contact with a warlock, some of his knowledge is passed on to you.

No.l could have sworn that the stone fingers round his own tightened a fraction, but that could just have been his imagination. What was definitely not in his imagination was the sudden feeling of cold loss that sped along his arm. As though life itself were being sucked from him.

Don’t worry, young warlock. I’m simply siphoning off a little magic to get the sparks running. It feels terrible, but that will not last.

It did feel terrible. No.l imagined that dying piece by piece would feel something like this, which in a way was what was happening. And in such a situation the body will try to defend itself by seeing off the intruder. The magic that had lain dormant inside No.l until recently suddenly exploded in his brain and gave chase to the invader.

To No.l it felt as though he suddenly had an entire new spectrum of vision. He had been blind before, but now he could see through walls. Of course it was not really some kind of super-vision, it was an understanding of his own abilities. The magic flowed through him like liquid fire, chasing impurities out through his pores. Venting steam through his orifices and setting the runes on his body aglow.

Good lad, sent Qwan. Now let it go. Chase me out.

No.l found that he was able to do exactly that — to control the magical flow. He sent it after Qwan’s tendril, through his own fingers and into Qwan’s. The dead feeling was replaced by a buzzing of power. He began to vibrate, and so did the statue, shedding wafers of stone like a dead snakeskin. The old warlock’s fingers were solid no more, but living breathing skin. They held on to No.l tightly, keeping the connection solid.

That’s it, lad. You’re doing it.

1 am doing it, thought No.l incredulously. This is really happening.

Artemis and Holly looked on in amazement as the magic spread through Qwan’s body, sloughing the stone from his limbs with pistol-shot cracks and orange flame. Life claimed Qwan’s hand, then his arm, then his torso. Stone fell from his chin and mouth, allowing the warlock to heave his first breath in ten millennia. Bright blue eyes squinted against the light and shut tightly. And still the magic ran on, blasting every last shard of stone from Qwan’s body, but there it stopped. When the sparks of No.l’s power reached the next warlock in line, they simply fizzled and died.

‘What about the others?’ asked No.l. Surely he could free them too.

Qwan hacked and coughed for several moments before he answered.

‘Dead,’ he said, then collapsed in the rubble.

On the other side of the gallery security door, Kong was emptying a third clip from his machine pistol into the keypad.

‘The door won’t hold much longer,’ said Butler. ‘Any second now.’

‘Can you slow them down?’ asked Artemis.

‘Shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t want to leave any bodies here, Artemis. I imagine the police are already on their way.’

‘Maybe you could just scare them a bit.’

Butler grinned. ‘My pleasure.’

The shooting stopped, and the security door drooped slightly on its hinges. Butler ripped the door open smartly, yanking Billy Kong inside, then jammed the door closed again.

‘Hello, Billy,’ he said, pinning the smaller man to the wall.

Kong was too demented to be scared. He lashed out with a series of blows, any one of which would have been fatal to a normal per son. They bounced off Butler like a fly bouncing off aTigerTank. That’s not to say they didn’t hurt. Kong’s trained hands felt like heated brands where they impacted. Butler’s only reaction to the pain was a slight tightening round the corners of his mouth.

‘Holly?’ he said.

‘Pull,’ said Holly, aiming her Neutrino at a point in space.

Butler catapulted Billy Kong straight up, and Holly plucked him out of the air with a blast from her weapon. Kong spun across the floor, still throwing spasmodic punches.

‘The snake’s head is out of action,’ said Artemis. ‘Let’s hope the rest will follow suit.’

Minerva decided to take advantage of Billy Kong’s unconsciousness to indulge in some payback. She stalked over to her prone kidnapper.

‘You, Mister Kong, are nothing but a thug,’ she said, kicking him in the leg.

‘Young lady,’ said Butler sharply, ‘move away. He may not be completely out.’

‘If my father has as much as a hair out of place,’ continued Minerva, oblivious to Butler’s warnings, ‘I will personally ensure that you spend the maximum time in prison.’

Kong cracked open a weeping eye. ‘That’s no way to talk to your staff,’ he croaked, and wrapped steely fingers round her ankle.

Minerva realized that she had made a drastic mistake and decided that the best course of action was to scream as shrilly as possible. Which she did.

Butler was torn. His duty was to protect Artemis, not Minerva, but through years of working with Artemis and indeed Holly, he had unconsciously adopted the role of general protector. Whenever somebody was in danger, he helped them to get out of it. And this foolish girl was certainly in danger. Mortal danger.

Why is it, he wondered, that the smart ones always think that they’re invincible?

And so Butler made a decision, the consequences of which would haunt his dreams and waking hours for years to come. As a professional bodyguard, he knew the futility of second-guessing his own actions, but in the nights ahead he would often sit by the fire with his head in his hands and replay the moment in his mind, wishing that he had acted differently. Whatever way he played it out, the results were tragic, but at least they would not have been tragic for Artemis.

So Butler acted. He took four smart steps away from the door to disentangle Minerva from Kong’s grasp. It was a simple thing, the man was barely semi-conscious. He seemed to be operating on some kind of psychotic energy. Butler simply stepped down hard on his wrist, then rapped him sharply between the eyes with the knuckle of his index finger. Kong’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his fingers relaxed like the legs of a dying spider.

Minerva stepped smartly out of Kong’s range.

‘That was very foolish. I apologize,’ she mumbled.

‘It’s a little late for that,’ reprimanded Butler. ‘Now will you please take cover?’

The entire mini-episode took about four seconds, but in that four seconds a lot happened on the other side of the security door. Don, who was holding the bomb, and who had recently been punched for no good reason by his boss, decided to win Kong’s favour by bursting into the gallery and taking on the giant in there. He put his shoulder to the door at the exact moment that Butler stepped away at the other side, and to his own surprise, went tumbling head first into the room, followed quickly by four more of Kong’s henchmen, brandishing an assortment of weapons.

Holly, who was covering the door with her Neutrino, was not unduly worried. She began to worry when a grenade rolled out of the tangle of men and tapped against her foot. It would be easy enough for her to escape the explosion, but Artemis and N°l would be well within the blast radius.

Thinkfast!

There was a solution, but it was costly in terms of equipment. She bolstered her weapon, whipped off her helmet and jammed it down over the grenade, holding it there with her own weight. This was a trick she had employed before with mixed results. She had hoped it wouldn’t become a habit.

She squatted there like a frog on a toadstool for what seemed like a long time, but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. She noticed, from the corner of her eye, that a thug with a silver case was slapping the man who had rolled the grenade. Perhaps using lethal force had been against orders.

The grenade exploded, blasting Holly into a sharp arc. The helmet absorbed most of the shock, and all of the shrapnel, but there was still enough force to shatter both of Holly’s shinbones and fracture one femur. She landed on Artemis’s back like a sack of rocks.

‘Ow,’ she said, and passed out.

Artemis and No.l were attempting to revive Qwan.

‘He’s alive,’ said Artemis, checking the warlock’s pulse.

‘Steady heartbeat. He should come out of it soon. You keep a strong contact with him, or he could disappear.’

No.l cradled the old demon’s head. ‘He called me a warlock,’ he said tearfully. ‘I am not alone.’

‘Time enough for a talk-show moment later,’ said Artemis brusquely. ‘We need to get you out of here.’

Kong’s men were in the gallery now and shots were being fired. Artemis was confident that Butler and Holly could take care of a few thugs, but this confidence took a blow when there was a sudden explosion and a battered Holly landed on his back. Her body was instantly enveloped in a cocoon of blue light. Sparks dropped from the cocoon, like falling stars, pinpointing the most severe injuries.

Artemis crawled out from beneath her, laying his recuperating friend gently on the floor beside Qwan.

Kong’s men were now embroiled with Butler, and probably regretting choosing this line of work. He tore into them like a bowling ball into a pack of quivering pins.

One made it past Butler. A tall man with a tattooed neck and an aluminium case. Artemis guessed that this case probably did not contain a selection of Asian spices, and realized that he would have to take action himself. While he was wondering exactly what it was he could do, the man sent him sprawling. By the time he made it back to Holly’s side, his friend was sitting up groggily and there was a suitcase handcuffed to her wrist.

The man who had delivered the case had returned to the fray, where he had lasted less than a second before Butler took him out of it again.

Artemis knelt by Holly’s side.

‘Are you all right?’

Holly smiled, but it was an effort. ‘Just about, thanks to the magic. I’m out though, not a drop left. So I would advise everyone to stay healthy until I can complete my ritual.’ She shook her wrist, jangling the chain. ‘What’s in the case?’

Artemis seemed paler than usual. ‘I would guess nothing pleasant.’ He flicked the clips and lifted the lid. ‘And I would be right. It’s a bomb. Big and complicated. They sneaked it past security somehow. Through an area still under construction, I would guess.’

Holly blinked herself alert, shaking her head until the pain woke her up.

‘OK. Bomb. Can you see a timer?’

‘Eight minutes. And counting.’

‘Can you disarm it?’

Artemis pursed his lips. ‘Perhaps. I need to open the casing and get into the works before I know for sure. It could be a straight detonator, or we could have all kinds of decoys.’

Qwan struggled to his elbows, coughing up large globs of dust and spit. ‘What? I’m flesh and bone after ten thousand years and now you’re telling me a bomb is going to blow me to a million pieces?’

‘This is Qwan,’ explained No.l. ‘He’s the most powerful warlock in the magic circle.’

‘I’m the only one now,’ said Qwan. ‘I couldn’t save the rest. Just us two left now, lad.’

‘Can you petrify the bomb?’ asked Holly.

‘It will take several minutes before my magic is up and running. Anyway, the gargoyle’s touch only works on organic matter. Plants and animals. A bomb is full of man-made compounds.’

Artemis raised an eyebrow. ‘You know about bombs?’

‘I was petrified. Not dead. I could see what was happening around me. The stories I could tell you. You wouldn’t believe where tourists stick gum.’

Butler was piling unconscious bodies against the security doors.

‘We have to get out of here!’ he called. ‘The police are in the hallway.’

Artemis stood and took half a dozen steps away from the group, closing his eyes.

‘Artemis, this is no time to fall apart,’ chided Minerva, crawling from behind a display case. ‘We need a plan.’

‘Shh, young lady,’ said Butler. ‘He’s thinking.’

Artemis gave himself twenty seconds to rack his brains. What he came up with was very far from perfect.

‘Very well. Holly, you must fly us out of here.’

Holly did a few sums in her head. ‘It will take two trips, maybe three.’

‘No time for that. The bomb must go first. There are a lot of people in this building. I must go with the bomb as there is a chance I can defuse it. And the fairies must come too; it is imperative that they are not taken into custody. Hybras would be lost.’

‘I can’t allow this,’ objected Butler. ‘I have a duty to your parents.’

Artemis was stern with his protector.

‘I am giving you a new duty,’ he said. ‘Look after Minerva. Keep her safe until we can rendezvous.’

‘Let Holly fly out over the sea and drop the bomb,’ argued Butler. ‘We can mount a rescue organization later.’

‘It will be too late. If we don’t get these fairies out of here, the eyes of the world will be on Taipei. And anyway, the local seas are thronged with fishing boats. This is the only way. I will not allow humans or fairies to die when I might have prevented it.’

Butler would not give up. ‘Listen to yourself. You sound like a … like a good guy! There’s nothing in this for you.’

Artemis had no time for emotions. ‘In the words of H. P. Woodman, old friend, Time is ticking on, and so we must be gone. Holly, tie us to your belt, all except Butler and Minerva.’

Holly nodded, still slightly shell-shocked. She reeled out a number of pitons from her belt, wishing she had been issued one of Foaly’s Moonbelts, which generated a lo-grav field around everything attached to it.

‘Under the arms,’ she instructed No.l. ‘Then clip it back on to the loop.’

Butler helped Artemis with his strap. ‘This is it, Artemis. I’ve had it, I swear. When we get home I am retiring. I’m older than I look, and I feel older than I am. No more plotting. Promise me?’

Artemis forced a smile. ‘I am simply flying to the next building. If I cannot defuse the bomb, then Holly can fly it out to sea and endeavour to find a safe spot.’

They both knew that Artemis was lying. If he could not defuse the bomb, there would be no time to find a safe drop point.

‘Here,’ said Butler, handing him a flat leather wallet. ‘My picks. So you can at least get into the works.’

‘Thank you, old friend.’

Holly was loaded to the chin. No.l and Qwan clung to her waist, while Artemis was cinched to the front.

‘OK. Everyone ready?’

‘I wish my magic would come back,’ grumbled Qwan. ‘I’d turn myself into a statue again.’

‘Terrified,’ said No.l. ‘Freaking. Planking. Up the creek.’

‘Colloquialisms,’ said Artemis. ‘Very good.’

Butler closed the case. ‘One building across. That’s as far as you need to go. Get that panel off and go straight for the explosive itself. Rip out the detonator if you have to.’

‘Understood.’

‘OK. I won’t say goodbye, just good luck. I will see you as soon as I can talk us out of here.’

‘Thirty minutes, if that.’

Up to that point Minerva had hung back looking shamefaced. Now she came forward.

‘I’m sorry, Artemis. I shouldn’t have gone near Mister Kong.’

Butler lifted her bodily aside. ‘No, you shouldn’t, but there’s no time for apologies now. Just stand by the door and look innocent.’

‘But I . . .’

‘Innocent! Now!’

Minerva obliged, wisely realizing that this was not the time for arguing.

‘OK, Holly,’ said Artemis. ‘Lift off.’

‘Check,’ said Holly, activating her backpack. The wings struggled with the extra weight for a moment, and there was something about the engine vibration that Holly didn’t like, but gradually her rig took the strain and lifted all four of them off the floor.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘I think we’re good.’

Butler nudged the flying group towards a window. This was all so risky he couldn’t believe that he was letting it happen. But there was no time to deliberate. It was do or die.

He reached up, yanking down on the window’s security catch. The entire two-metre pane swung wide, allowing the high altitude wind to scream into the building. Suddenly everyone was deafened and under attack from the elements. It was hard to see anyone and even harder to hear them.

Holly floated the group outside and they would have been whipped away had Butler not held on for a second.

‘Go with the wind,’ he shouted to Holly, releasing his grip. ‘Make your descent gradual.’

Holly nodded. Her wing motor skipped a beat and they dropped two metres.

Artemis’s stomach lurched.

‘Butler,’ he called, his voice thin and childlike in the wind.

‘Yes, Artemis, what?’

If something goes wrong, wait for me. No matter how it looks, I will return. I will bring them all back.’

Butler nearly jumped out after them. ‘What are you planning, Artemis? What are you going to do?’

Artemis called back, but the wind caught his words, and his bodyguard could only stand framed by steel and glass, shouting into the wind.

They dropped quickly. A bit more quickly than Holly would have liked.

The wings can’t take it, she realized. Not the weight and the wind. We’re not going to make it.

She rapped a knuckle on Artemis’s head. ‘Artemis!’ she shouted.

‘I know,’ shouted the Irish boy. ‘Too much weight.’

If they fell now, the bomb would detonate in the middle of Taipei. That was unacceptable. There was only one thing to do. Artemis had not even mentioned this option to Butler, as he knew the bodyguard would reject it no matter how sound his own reasoning.

Before Artemis had time to act on his theory, Holly’s wings spluttered, jerked and died. They fell in ragged free fall like a sack of anchors, head over heels, dangerously close to the skyscraper wall.

Artemis’s eyes were scalded by wind, his limbs were folded back to breaking point by rushing air, and his cheeks were ballooned to comical proportions, though there was nothing funny about falling hundreds of metres to a certain death.

No! said Artemis’s iron core. I will not let this be the end.

With a grim and physical determination that he must have picked up from Butler, Artemis raised his arms and grabbed No.l ‘s arm. The object he sought was right there, almost in his face, and yet it seemed impossible to reach.

Impossible or not, 1 must reach it.

It was like trying to push against the skin of a giant balloon, but push Artemis did.

The ground rushed up from below, smaller skyscrapers jutting up like spears. And still Artemis pushed.

Finally, his fingers closed round No.l’s silver bracelet.

Goodbye, world, he thought. One way or another.

And he ripped the bracelet off, flinging it into the air. Now, the demonkind were no longer anchored to this dimension. For a second there was no obvious reaction to this, but then, just as they were passing between the first of the lower skyscrapers, a revolving purple trapezoid opened in the sky and swallowed them as neatly as a kid catching a Cheerio in his mouth.

Butler staggered back from the window, trying to process what he had seen. Holly’s wings had failed, that much was clear, but then what? What?

It dawned on him suddenly. Artemis must have had a secondary plan, that boy always did. Artemis wouldn’t go to the bathroom without a back-up. So they weren’t dead. There was a good chance of that. They had just disappeared into the demon dimension. He would have to keep telling himself that until he believed it.

Butler noticed that Minerva was crying.

‘They’re all dead, aren’t they? Because of me.’

Butler placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘If they were all dead, it would be because of you, but they’re not — Artemis has everything under control. Now, chin up, we have to talk our way out of here, daughter.’

Minerva frowned. ‘Daughter?’

Butler winked, though he felt anything but cheery. ‘Yes, daughter.’

Seconds later a squad of Taiwanese regular police heaved open the door, flooding the room with blue and grey uniforms. Butler found himself looking down the barrels of a dozen police special pistols. Most of these barrels were wobbling slightly.

‘No, you dolts,’ squealed Mr Lin, threading his way through the policemen, slapping at their gun arms. ‘Not that one. He is my good friend. Those other ones, the unconscious ones. They are the ones who broke in here; they knocked me down. It is a miracle my friend and his . . .’

‘Daughter,’ prompted Butler.

‘And his daughter were not harmed.’

Then the curator noticed his demolished exhibit and faked a faint. When no one rushed to aid him, he picked himself up, went off into a corner and had a little cry.

An inspector, who wore his gun cowboy-style, ambled across to Butler.

‘You did this?’

‘No. Not me. We were hiding behind a crate. They blew up the sculpture then started fighting among themselves.’

‘Do you have any idea why these people would want to destroy a sculpture?’

Butler shrugged. ‘I think they think they’re anarchists. Who knows with these people.’

‘They have no ID,’ said the inspector. ‘Not one of them. I find that a bit strange.’

Butler smiled bitterly. After all Billy Kong had done, he would only be prosecuted for property damage. Of course they could mention the kidnapping, but that would lead to weeks, possibly months of red tape in Taiwan. And Butler did not particularly want anyone looking too deeply into his past, or indeed the selection of false passports in his jacket pocket.

Then something struck him. Something about Kong from a conversation back in Nice.

Kong used a kitchen knife on his friend, Foaly had said. There’s still a warrant out for him there, under the name Jonah Lee.

Kong was wanted for murder in Taiwan, Butler realized, and there was no statute of limitations on murder.

I heard them talking to that one,’ said Butler, pointing to the supine Billy Kong. ‘They called him Mister Lee, or Jonah. He was the boss.’

The inspector was interested. ‘Oh, really. Did you hear anything else? Sometimes the smallest detail can be important.’

Butler frowned, thinking about it. ‘One of them said something, I don’t even know what it means . . .’

‘Go on,’ urged the inspector.

‘He said … let me think. He said, You’re not such a tough guy, Jonah. You haven’t notched four barrel in years. What does that mean, notching your barrel!’

The inspector pulled a mobile phone from his pocket. ‘It means that man is a murder suspect.’ He hit ‘one’ then speed dial. ‘Base? Chan here. I need you to run the name Jonah Lee through records — go back a few years.’ He closed the phone. ‘Thanks, Mister . . .?’

‘Arnott,’ said Butler. ‘Franklin Arnott, New York City.’

He had been using the Arnott passport for several years. It was genuinely rumpled.

‘Thanks, Mister Arnott, you may just have caught a murderer.’

Butler blinked. ‘A murderer! Wow. Do you hear that, Eloise? Daddy caught a murderer.’

‘Well done, Daddy,’ said Eloise, looking unhappy with Daddy for some reason.

The inspector turned to pursue his inquiries, then stopped.

‘The curator said there was another person. A boy. A friend of yours?’

‘Yes. And no. He’s my son. Arty.’

T don’t see him around.’

‘He just stepped out, but he’ll be back.’

‘Are you sure?’

Butler’s eyes lost their focus. ‘Yes, I’m sure. He told me.’