فصل سیزدهم

CHAPTER 13: THE HAIRY

ONE IS DEAD

THE LEATHER SOUQ

BUTLER jogged from the Extinctionists’ compound to the leather souq. Artemis was waiting in the building in which they had planned the previous day’s exchange. Police presence in Fez amounted to no more than a couple of two-man patrols and so it was easy for someone of Butler’s experience to sneak around without being detected. Though it was hardly illegal to visit a medina, it was certainly frowned on to stroll around a tourist area with a large rifle strapped to one’s back.

Butler ducked into a dark corner and quickly broke down his dart rifle into almost a dozen parts, slotting them into various rubbish tips. It was possible that he could slip the Fez Saïss airport customs men some baksheesh and simply stow the weapon under his seat, but these days it was better to be safe than sorry.

Ten-year-old Artemis was sitting at a pre-arranged spot in one of the sniper windows, picking non-existent lint from his jacket sleeve, which was his version of nervous pacing.

‘Well?’ he asked, steeling himself for the answer.

‘The female got out,’ said Butler. He thought it better not to mention that the long-haired male had had everything under control until Artemis’s video arrived.

Artemis caught the implication. ‘The female? The other one was there too?’ Butler nodded. ‘The hairy one is dead. He attempted a rescue and it didn’t work out.’ Artemis gasped. ‘Dead?’ he said. ‘Dead?’

‘Repeating the word won’t change its meaning,’ said Butler sharply. ‘He tried to rescue his friend and Kronski killed him for it. But what’s done is done, eh? And at least we have our diamonds.’ Butler checked his temper. ‘We should move out for the airport. I need to run the preflight checks.’ Artemis was left stunned and silent, unable to take his eyes from the bag of diamonds that winked accusingly from their slouched perch on his lap.

Holly was not having any luck. Her shield was so weak that she switched it off to save her last spark for a small healing if it was needed, and no sooner had her image solidified than one of Kronski’s goons spotted her and walkie-talkied his entire squad. Now she was running for her life through the medina, praying that Artemis was at the meeting point and that he had thought to bring the scooter.

No one was taking potshots at her, which was encouraging, unless Kronski wanted to do the potshotting himself.

No time to think about that now. Survival was the priority.

The medina was quiet this late in the evening, with only a few straggling tourists and die-hard merchants still walking the streets. Holly dodged between them, pulling down whatever she could reach to get in the way of the stampede of security men behind her. She tugged over towers of baskets, upended a kebab stand and shouldered a table of spices, dashing a white wall with multicoloured arcs.

The thunder of footsteps behind her did not recede in the least. Her tactics were not working. The security guards were simply too large and were bustling past the obstacles.

Dodge and weave, then. Lose them in the alleyways.

This tactic was no more succesful than the last. Her pursuers were familiar with the medina’s layout and coordinated their pursuit on hand-held radios, herding Holly towards the leather souq.

Where I’ll be in the open. An easy target.

Holly raced on, Artemis’s loafers cutting into her heels. A series of cries and curses arose behind her as she barged without apology through bands of tourists, and shoulder-slammed tea boys, sending trays flying.

I am corralled, she thought desperately. You’d better be waiting, Artemis.

It occurred to Holly then that she was leading the posse directly to Artemis, but there was no other option. If he were waiting, then he could help; if not, then she was her own anyway.

She jinked left but four huffing guards blocked the alleyway, all hefting vicious long-bladed knives.

The other way, I think.

Right, then. Holly skidded into the leather souq, heels throwing up dust fans.

Where are you, Artemis?

She cast her gaze upwards towards their observation point, but there was nothing there. Not even the telltale shimmer of a hide.

He’s not here.

She felt panic scratch at her heart. Holly Short was an excellent field officer, but she was way out of her jurisdiction, her league and her time.

The leather souq was quiet now, with only a few workers scraping skins on the surrounding rooftops. Lanterns crackled below the roofline and the giant urns lurked like alien pods. The smell was just as bad as it had been the previous day, possibly worse, as the vats had had longer to cook. The stench of droppings hit Holly like a soft, feverish glove, further addling her mind.

Keep running. Find a nook.

Holly spent half a moment considering which body part she would trade for a weapon, then sprinted for a doorway in the adjacent wall.

A guard appeared, dragging his knife from his sheath. The blade was red. Maybe blood, maybe rust. Holly switched direction, losing a shoe in the turn. There was a window one floor up, but the wall was cracked – she could make the climb.

Two more guards. Grinning. One held a net, like a gladiator.

Holly slid to a halt.

We’re in the desert! Why does he have a fishing net?

She tried again. An alleyway barely broad enough for an adult human. She was almost there when a fat guard with a ponytail to his waist and a mouthful of yellowed teeth wedged himself into the avenue, blocking it.

Trapped. Trapped. No escape and not enough magic to shield. Not even enough to mesmerize.

It was difficult to stay calm, in spite of all her training and experience. Holly could feel her animal instincts bubble in the pit of her stomach.

Survive. Do what you have to do.

But what could she do? One unarmed, child-sized fairy against a squadron of armed muscle.

They formed a ragged circle around her, weaving between the urns in a slow-motion slalom. Every set of greedy glittering eyes focused on her face. Closer and closer they came, spreading their arms wide in case their prey made a dart for freedom.

Holly could see their scars and pockmarks, see the desert in their nails and on their cuffs. Smell their breath and count their fillings.

She cast her eyes towards the heavens.

‘Help,’ she cried.

And it began to rain diamonds.

BELOW THE EXTINCTIONISTS’ COMPOUND

‘That is not a lemur,’ repeated Opal Koboi, drumming a tiny toe on the floor. ‘I know it is not a lemur because it has no tail and it seems to be wearing clothes. This is a human, Mervall. A Mud Boy.’ A second pixie appeared in the doorway. Mervall Brill. One of the infamous Brill brothers who would break Opal out of her padded psych cell some years later. His expression was a mixture of puzzlement and terror. Not pretty on any face.

‘I don’t understand it, Miss Koboi,’ he said, twiddling the top button on his crimson lab coat. ‘It was all set up for the lemur. You mesmerized Kronski yourself.’ Opal’s nostrils flared. ‘Are you suggesting this is somehow my fault?’ She clutched her throat, as if the very idea caused her breath to fail.

‘No, no, no,’ said Mervall hurriedly. ‘It could not be Miss Koboi’s fault. Miss Koboi is, after all, perfection itself. Perfection does not make mistakes.’ This outrageous statement would be recognized as blatant toadying by right-minded people, but Opal Koboi found it fair and rational.

‘Exactly. Well said, Mervall. A pity your brother does not have a tenth of your wisdom.’ Mervall smiled and shuddered. The smile was in acceptance of the compliment, the wince was because the mention of his twin had reminded him that his brother was at this moment locked in a cage with a red river hog, as punishment for not complimenting Opal on her new boots.

Miss Koboi was having a bad day. Currently, two out of seven were bad. If things got any worse, even though the wages were astronomical, the Brill brothers might be forced to seek alternative employment.

Mervall decided to distract his boss. ‘They’re going crazy up there. Firing weapons. Duelling with cutlery. Those Extinctionists are an unstable lot.’ Opal leaned over Artemis, sniffing gently, wiggling her fingers to see if the human was awake.

‘The lemur was the last one. I was this close to being all-powerful.’ ‘How close?’ asked Mervall.

Opal squinted at him. ‘Are you being funny?’

‘No. I sincerely wondered–’

‘It’s an expression,’ snapped the pixie, striding back towards the main chamber.

Mervall nodded slowly. ‘An expression. I see. What should I do with the human?’ Opal did not break her stride. ‘Oh, you might as well harvest him. Human brain fluid is a good moisturizer. Then we pack up and find that lemur ourselves.’ ‘Should I dump his drained corpse in the animal pit?’

Opal threw up her arms. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. Must I tell you how to do everything? Can’t you show a little initiative?’ Mervall wheeled the pallet after his boss.

The animal pit it is, then, he thought.

THE LEATHER SOUQ

Diamonds rained down in glittering showers. Falling stars twinkling in the lamp light.

Young Artemis’s fee, Holly realized. He is throwing me a lifeline.

For a moment the guards were transfixed. Their faces wore the dazed expression of children who have woken and are surprised to find themselves in a good mood. They stretched out their fingers, watching the diamonds bounce and tumble.

Then one broke the spell. ‘Des diamants!’ he cried.

Hearing the word spoken aloud galvanized his companions. They dropped to their knees, patting the dusky ground for the precious stones. More dived into the pungent vats as they registered tiny plops made by stones impacting on liquid.

Mayhem, thought Holly. Perfect.

She glanced upwards just in time to see a small hand withdraw into the black rectangle of a window.

What made him do it? she wondered. That was a most un-Artemis-like gesture.

A guard diving past her leg reminded her that things were still pretty dire.

In their greed they have forgotten me, but perhaps they will remember their duty when the stones are pocketed.

Holly spared a moment to salute up at young Artemis’s window, then raced out of his view towards the nearest alley, only to be flattened by a puffing Damon Kronski.

‘Two for two,’ he huffed. ‘I got both of you. This must be my lucky day.’ When will this end? thought Holly incredulously. How can these things continue to happen?

Kronski pressed down on her like an enraged elephant, frown lines framing his tinted glasses, sweat flowing in sheets down his face, dripping from his pouting lip.

‘Except, this is not my lucky day, is it?’ he shouted, a keen note of hysteria on the edge of his tones. ‘You saw to that. You and your accomplice. Well, my gas chamber took care of him. Now I will take care of you!’ Holly was stunned.

Artemis dead?

She would not believe it. Never. How many people had written Artemis Fowl off and lived to regret it? Plenty. She was one of them.

Holly, on the other hand, was proving easier to kill. Her vision was blurring, her limbs were treading water and the weight of the world was on her chest. The only sense firing on all cylinders was her sense of smell.

What a way to go. Inhaling motes of pigeon dropping with your last breath.

She heard her ribs groan.

I wish Kronski could smell this.

An idea sparked in her brain, the last ember in a dying grate.

Why shouldn’t he smell it? It’s the least I can do.

Holly reached deep into her core of magic, searching for that last spell. There was a flicker deep inside. Not enough to shield, or even mesmerize, but perhaps a minor healing.

Usually healing spells were used on recent wounds, but Kronski’s anosmia was a lifelong ailment. Fixing it now could be dangerous and would almost certainly be painful.

Oh well, thought Holly. If it hurts him, it hurts him.

She reached up a hand past the forearm on her throat, inching it along Kronski’s face, willing the magic into her fingertips.

Kronski did not feel threatened. ‘What’s this? Are you playing got your nose?’ Holly did not answer. Instead she closed her eyes, jammed two fingers up Kronski’s nostrils and sent her last sparks of magic down those channels.

‘Heal,’ she said. A wish and a prayer.

Kronski was surprised but not initially upset.

‘Hey, what the–’ he said, then sneezed. The sneeze was powerful enough to pop his ears and roll him off his captive. ‘What are you, five years old? Sticking fingers up my nose.’ Another sneeze. Bigger this time. Blowing a trumpet of steam from each nostril.

‘This is pathetic. You people are really–’

A third sneeze, this one traumatizing the entire body. Tears streamed down Kronski’s face. His legs jittered and his glasses shattered in their frames.

‘Oh my,’ said Kronski, when he had his limbs under control. ‘Something’s different. Something has changed.’ Then the smell hit him.

‘Aarrgh,’ said Kronski, and began to squeal. His tendons tightened, his toes pointed and his fingers ripped holes in the air.

‘Wow,’ said Holly, massaging her throat. This was a stronger reaction than expected.

The smell was bad, but Kronski acted like he was dying. What Holly had not fully grasped was the power of the doctor’s awakened sense of smell. Imagine the joy of seeing for the first time, or the euphoria of a first step. Then square that feeling and make it negative. Take a ball of poison, dip it in thorns and manure, wrap it in a poultice of festering bandages, boil the whole lot in a cauldron of unspeakably vile excretions and shove it up your nose.

This is what Kronski could smell, and it was driving him out of his mind.

He lay flat on his back, flinching and pawing the sky.

‘Foul,’ he said, repeating the word over and over. ‘Foul, foul. Fowl, Fowl.’ Holly crawled to her knees, coughing and spitting on to the dry sand. Her entire being felt battered and bruised from back to spirit. She looked at Kronski’s expression and realized that there was no point in asking him questions. The president of the Extinctionists was beyond logical conversation for the time being.

Possibly for good, she thought. I don’t see him leading any international organizations for a while.

Holly noticed something. One of Kronski’s lenses had completely shattered, revealing the eyeball underneath. The iris was a strange violet, almost the same shade as the spectacles had been, but this was not what caught Holly’s attention. The edge of the retina was ragged, as though it had been nibbled on by tiny sclera fish.

This man has been mesmerized, Holly realized. A fairy is controlling him.

She climbed to her feet and hobbled one-shoed down the nearest alley, the voices of squabbling greed fading behind her.

If a fairy is involved, then nothing is as it seems. And, if nothing is as it seems, then perhaps Artemis Fowl still lives.

BELOW THE EXTINCTIONISTS’ COMPOUND

Mervall Brill winked at himself in the chrome door of a body freezer.

I am a handsome chap, he thought, and this lab coat covers the paunch rather well.

‘Brill!’ called Opal from her office. ‘How is that brain fluid coming?’ Merv jumped. ‘Just sucking him dry now, Miss Koboi.’

The pixie put his weight behind the trolley with its human cargo, trundling it down a short corridor to the lab itself. Being stuck in this tiny facility with Opal Koboi was no picnic. Just the three of them for weeks on end, draining the fluids from endangered species. Opal could afford to hire a thousand lab assistants to work for her, but she was über-paranoid about secrecy. Opal’s level of paranoia was such that she had begun to suspect plants and inanimate objects of spying on her.

‘I can grow cameras!’ she had shrieked at the Brill brothers during one briefing. ‘Who’s to say that despicable centaur Foaly hasn’t succeeded in splicing surveillance equipment to plants. So get rid of all the flowers. Rocks too. I don’t trust them. Sullen little blëbers.’ So the Brill twins had spent an afternoon scouring the facility for anything that might contain a bug. Even the recycling toilet-scent blocks had to go, as Opal was convinced they were photographing her when she used the facilities.

Still, though, Miss Koboi is right to be paranoid, Merv admitted, as he barged through the lab double doors. If the LEP ever found out what she was doing here, they would lock her up forever and a day.

The double doors led to a long, triple-height laboratory. It was a place of misery. Cages were stacked to the ceiling, each one filled with a trapped animal. They moaned and keened, rattling their bars, butting the doors. A robot food-pellet dispensing machine whirred along the network, spitting grey pellets into the appropriate cages.

The centre island was a series of operating pallets. Scores of animals lay sedated on the tables, secured, like Artemis, with rigid Octobonds. Artemis caught sight of a Siberian tiger, paws in the air and bald patches shaved into its skull. On each patch, there sat what looked like a tiny slice of liver. As they passed, one of the slices made a squelching sound and a tiny light-emitting diode on its ridge flashed red.

Merv stopped to peel it off and Artemis saw to his horror that the thing’s underside was spiked with a dozen dripping spines.

‘Full to the brim, Mister Super Genetically Modified Leech Mosquito thing. You are a disgusting abomination, yes you are. But you sure know how to siphon brain fluid. I’d say you’re due a squeezing.’ Merv pumped a foot pedal to open a nearby fridge and finger-tinkled the beakers inside until he found the right one.

‘Here we go. SibTig BF.’

He placed the beaker on a chrome work surface, then squeezed the leech like a sponge until it surrendered its bounty of brain fluid. Afterwards the leech was casually tossed into the trash.

‘Love you lots,’ said Mervall, returning to Artemis’s pallet. ‘Miss you loads.’ Artemis saw everything through the slit of a closed eye. This was a depraved, horrible place and he had to get out of here.

Holly will come for me, he thought, and then, No, she won’t. She’ll think I’m dead.

This realization chilled his blood.

I went into the flames.

He would have to save himself, then. It would not be the first time. Stay alert, a chance will come and you must be ready to take it.

Mervall found room on the operating section and parked Artemis neatly in it.

‘And he squeezes it into an impossible space. They said it couldn’t be done. They were wrong. Mervall Brill is the king of trolley parking.’ The pixie belched. ‘Which is not the future I had in mind for myself as a younger pixie.’ Then, somewhat moodily, he trawled a low-level aquarium with a perforated jug until it was full of convulsing super leeches.

Oh no, thought Artemis. Oh, please.

And then he was forced to close his eyes as Mervall turned to face him.

Surely he will see my chest heaving. He will sedate me, and it will all be over.

But Mervall apparently did not notice.

‘Ooh, I hate you guys. Disgusting. I tell you something, human, if your subconscious can hear me, be glad you’re asleep, because you do not want to go through this awake.’ Artemis almost cracked then. But he thought of his mother, with less than a day left to her, and he kept silent.

He felt his left hand being tugged, and heard Mervall grunt.

‘Stuck tight. Just a tick.’

The grip loosened and Artemis tracked Mervall’s movement with his ears and nose. A brush of soft belly on his elbow. Breath blowing past his ear. Mervall was at his left shoulder, reaching across.

Artemis opened his right eye just enough, and rolled his pupil into the slit. There was a theatre light directly overhead, craned in above the operating table on a thick, flat chrome arm.

Chrome. Reflective.

Artemis watched Mervall’s actions in the surface. The pixie tapped the Octobond’s touch-sensitive control pad, revealing a Gnommish keyboard. Then, singing a popular pixie pop song, he tapped in his password. One number with each beat of the chorus.

‘Pixies rock hard!’ he sang. ‘Extreme pixie hard rock, baby.’ Which seemed unlikely to Artemis, but he was glad of the song as it gave him time to file Mervall’s passcode.

Mervall released one of the bonds, allowing him to extend Artemis’s forearm. Even if the human did happen to wake up, all he could do was flail.

‘Now, my little leech, do your nasty work for Aunt Opal, and I will reward you by squeezing your innards into a bucket.’ He sighed. ‘Why are all my best lines wasted on annelids.’ Then he plucked a leech from the jug, pinched it to make the spines stick out and slapped it on to Artemis’s exposed wrist.

Artemis felt nothing but an immediate sense of well-being.

I’m being sedated, he realized. An old troll trick. Cheer you up before you die. It’s a good ploy and anyway, how bad can dying be? My life has been one trial after another.

Mervall was checking his chronometer. His brother had been in that recycling cage behind the galley for an awfully long time. That red river hog might decide to have himself a bite of pixie meat.

‘I’ll just check,’ he decided. ‘Be back before the leech is full. First blood, then brain. You should have complimented Miss Opal’s boots, brother.’ And off he toddled down the centre aisle, plucking the mesh of each cage as he passed, driving the animals wild.

‘Pixies rock hard!’ he sang. ‘Extreme pixie hard rock, baby.’ ∗

Artemis was finding it hard to motivate himself. It felt so easy lying on the pallet, just letting all his troubles run out of his arm.

When you decide to die, Artemis thought sluggishly, it doesn’t matter how many people want to kill you.

He did wish the animals would calm down. Their chattering and chirping were interfering with his mood.

There was even a parrot somewhere squawking a phrase.

‘Who’s your momma?’ it asked over and over again. ‘Who’s your momma?’ My momma is Angeline. She’s dying.

Artemis’s eyes opened.

Momma. Mother.

He lifted his free arm and bashed the unwelcome leech against one of the Octobonds. It exploded in a spatter of mucus and blood, leaving half a dozen spines jutting from Artemis’s arms like the spears of tiny soldiers.

That’s going to hurt eventually.

Artemis’s throat was dry, his neck was twisted and his vision was impaired, but, even so, it took him barely a minute to activate the keypad with Mervall’s code and retract the bonds.

If these are alarmed, I’m in trouble.

But there was no klaxon. No pixies came running.

I have time. But not much.

He picked the spines from his skin, wincing not from pain, but from the sight of the red-rimmed holes in his wrist. A rivulet of blood ran from each wound, but it was slow and watery. He would not bleed to death.

Coagulent in the spines. Of course.

Artemis zombie-walked across the lab, gradually straightening out the kinks. There were hundreds of eyes on him. The animals were silent now, noses, beaks or snouts pressed against the wire mesh, waiting to see what would develop. The only sound came from the food-pellet robot zipping through its routine.

All I need to do is escape. No need for confrontation or saving the world. Leave Opal be, and run away.

But, of course, in the world of Artemis Fowl things are rarely straightforward. Artemis donned network goggles he found hanging from a low peg, activated the v-board and used Mervall’s password to log on to the network. He needed to know where he was and how to get out.

There were design plans to the entire facility stored on a desktop file. No security, no encryption. Why would there be? It wasn’t as if any of the humans above would wander down and, even if they did, humans could not read Gnommish.

Artemis studied the plans with care and growing anxiety. The facility consisted of a series of interconnected modules, housed in ancient tunnels beneath the Extinctionists’ compound, but there were only two ways out. He could go out the way he had come in, which was not ideal as it led straight back up to Kronski. Or he could choose the shuttle port on the lower level, which would mean stealing and piloting a shuttle. His chances of overriding complicated theft-prevention safeties before Opal had him vaporized were minimal. He would have to go up.

‘Do you like my little laboratory?’ said a voice.

Artemis stared past the goggle display. Opal stood before him, hands on hips.

‘Quite a place, isn’t it?’ she continued, in English. ‘All these tunnels were just here, waiting for us. Perfect. As soon as I found them, I knew I had to have them, which is why I persuaded Doctor Kronski to move here.’ Information is power, thought Artemis. Don’t give her any.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘I am the future queen of this world, at the very least. You may refer to me as Miss Koboi, for the next five minutes. After that you may refer to me as aaaaarrrrgh, hold your throat, die screaming, and so on.’ As pompous as I remember.

‘I seem to be bigger than you, Miss Koboi. And, as far as I can see, you have no weapons.’ Opal laughed. ‘No weapons?’ she cried, spreading her arms. ‘These creatures have given me all the weapons I need.’ She stroked the sleeping tiger. ‘This big kitty augments my mind control. Those sea slugs focus my energy beams. A shot of liquidized dolphin fin mixed with just the right amount of cobra venom turns the clock back a hundred years.’ ‘This is a weapons factory,’ breathed Artemis.

‘Exactly,’ said Opal, gratified that someone finally understood. ‘Thanks to these animals and their fluids, I have become the most powerful magician since the demon warlocks. The Extinctionists have been rounding up the creatures I need. Fools. Tricked by a cheap blast of holographic flames. As if I would kill these wonderful creatures before I drain their juices. You humans are such idiots. Your governments spend their fortunes looking for power when all the time it is cavorting around your jungles.’ ‘That’s quite a speech,’ said Artemis, wiggling his fingers, tapping the v-board that only he could see.

‘Soon I will be–’

‘Don’t tell me – soon you will be invincible.’

‘No, actually,’ said Opal, with admirable patience. ‘Soon I will be able to manipulate time itself. All I need is the–’ And suddenly everything fell into place for Artemis. Everything about this whole affair. And he knew he would be able to escape.

‘The lemur. All you need is the lemur.’

Opal clapped. ‘Exactly, you bright Mud Boy. That wonderful lemur brain fluid is the last ingredient I need for my magic boosting formula.’ Artemis sighed. ‘Magic boosting formula? Listen to yourself.’ Opal missed the mocking tone, possibly because she didn’t hear it a lot. ‘I had a whole bunch of lemurs before, but the LEP appropriated them to cure some plague and I lost the rest in a fire. All my test subjects gone, and their fluids are quite impossible to replicate. There is one left and I need him. He is my cloning model. With that lemur I will control time itself.’ Opal stopped speaking for a moment, tapping her bow lips with a finger. ‘Wait a moment, human. What do you know of my lemur?’ She took the finger away from her mouth and ignited a pulsing sphere of flame at its tip, melting her nail varnish. ‘I asked you, what do you know of my lemur?’ ‘Nice boots,’ said Artemis, then selected an option on the goggle screen with a flick of his finger.

Are you sure you wish to open all the cages? asked the computer.

The Extinctionists were sneaking back into the compound led by the intrepid Tommy Kirkenhazard, who brandished his empty pistol with decidedly more bravado than he felt.

‘I got stuff in that compound,’ he repeatedly told the mass huddled behind him. ‘Expensive stuff. And I ain’t leaving it behind.’ Most of the rest had expensive stuff too, and now that Kronski was catatonic in the souq and his guards seemed to have fled with their sparkling booty, this would appear to be the best time to reclaim their belongings and head for the airport.

Much to Kirkenhazard’s relief, the compound seemed utterly deserted, though the gelatinous group was spooked several times by night shadows jumping in the Moroccan wind.

I ain’t never shot nothing with an empty gun, he thought. But I don’t imagine it’s too effective.

They reached the door to the main hall, which hung from the frame on a single hinge.

‘OK, folks,’ said Kirkenhazard. ‘There ain’t no porters around to carry our stuff, so you got to hump it yourselves.’ ‘Oh, my Lord,’ said Contessa Irina Kostovich, and swooned into the arms of a Scottish oil baron.

‘Gather whatever you can and we meet back here in fifteen minutes.’ The contessa was muttering something.

‘What was that?’ asked Kirkenhazard.

‘She said she has a pedicure booked for the morning.’

Kirkenhazard held up a hand, listening. ‘No. Not that. Does anyone else hear rumbling?’ The animals charged through the open cage doors with savage glee, hopping, jumping, flying and sliming. Lions, leopards, various monkeys, parrots, gazelles, hundreds of creatures all with one idea in mind: escape.

Opal was not amused.

‘I cannot believe you did that, Mud Person. I will wring your brain out like a sponge.’ Artemis ducked his head low, not caring at all for the brain/sponge imagery. If he avoided Opal’s regal stare, then she could not mesmerize him. Unless her augmented powers allowed her access to the brain without the conduit of the optic nerve.

Even if he had not ducked, he would have been shielded by the tide of creatures that engulfed him, snapping, buffeting and kicking.

This is ridiculous, he thought, as a monkey’s elbow drove the air from his lungs. If Opal does not get me, the animals will. I need to direct this stampede.

Artemis ducked behind one of the operating tables, pulling out the tiger’s anaesthetic drip as he passed, and squinted through the spokes of passing legs for an appropriate animal.

Opal roared at the creatures in an amalgamation of their tongues. It was a piercing sound and split the animal phalanx down the centre so that it flowed around her. As the herd passed, Opal took potshots with pulsing blasts of energy that erupted from her fingers and scythed through entire rows of creatures, knocking them senseless to the ground. Cages tumbled like building blocks, refrigerators spewed their contents across the tiles.

My distraction is being chopped down, thought Artemis. Time for an exit.

He spied a set of hooves stomping towards him and steadied himself for a jump.

It’s a quagga, he realized. Half horse, half zebra and there hasn’t been one in captivity for a hundred years. Not exactly a thoroughbred stallion but it will have to do.

The ride was a little rougher than Artemis was acustomed to on the Fowl Arabians. No steadying stirrups, no creaking saddle, no snapping reins. Not to mention the facts that the quagga was unbroken and scared out of its wits.

Artemis patted its neck.

Ludicrous, he thought. This entire affair. A dead boy escaping on an extinct animal.

Artemis grabbed tufts of the quagga’s mane and tried to direct it towards the open doorway. It bucked and kicked, whipping its striped head round to nip at Artemis with strong, square teeth. He dug in his heels and held on.

Opal was busy protecting herself from a wave of animal vengeance. Some of the larger predators were not as cowed as their cousins and decided that the best way to remove the threat posed by Opal Koboi was to eat her.

The tiny pixie twirled like a demonic ballerina, shooting blasts of magical energy that ballooned at her shoulders, gathered force in roiling spheres at her elbows and shot forth with liquid pulsations.

Artemis had never seen anything like it. Stricken animals simply froze in mid-air, momentum utterly drained, dropping to the ground like statues. Immobile but for their terrified rolling eyes.

She is powerful indeed. I have never seen a force like this. Opal must never be allowed to capture Jayjay.

Opal was running out of magic. Her bolts fizzled out or spiralled off target like errant squibs. She abandoned them and drew two pistols from her belt. One was immediately batted from her hand by the tiger that had lumbered to join the fray, but Opal did not submit to hysteria. She quickly thumbed the other gun to a broad-spread setting and slashed the barrel from side to side as she fired, releasing a fan of silver energy.

The tiger was the first to drop, with a look on his face that said not again. Several more followed, cut off in mid-screech, howl or hiss.

Artemis hauled back on the quagga’s spiked mane, jumping it on to an operating table. The beast snorted and complained, but did as it was bid, skittering the length of one table and leaping across to the next one.

Opal loosed a shot in their direction, but it was absorbed by a brace of condors.

The door was directly before them, and Artemis feared the quagga would falter, but no – it butted through to the corridor connecting the lab to the holographic-flame chamber.

Artemis quickly opened the control panel in his stolen network goggles and chose the ramp setting.

It took maddening moments for the platform to extend itself, and for those seconds Artemis rode the quagga round in circles to take its mind off dislodging the unwelcome rider on its back, and to make them both a more difficult target if Opal followed them through the corridor.

An eagle swooped by, its feathers raking Artemis’s cheek. A muskrat clambered along his torso, hopping to the rising platform.

There was light above, the sickly wavering beams of a faulty strip light. But light nevertheless.

‘Come on, girl,’ said Artemis, feeling very much the cowboy. ‘Yee-haw.’ The Extinctionists gathered around Tommy Kirkenhazard’s raised finger, listening intently as if the noise emanated from inside the finger.

‘Ah, I don’t hear nothing,’ admitted Tommy. ‘I must have been dreaming. After all, it’s been a stressful night for human-lovers.’ Then the lodge burst open and the Extinctionists were utterly engulfed in a sea of beasts.

Kirkenhazard went down under a couple of chacma baboons, vainly pulling the trigger on his empty gun and shouting over and over, ‘But we killed you, darn it. We killed you.’ Though there would be no fatalities in the compound that night, eighteen people were hospitalized with bites, skin burns, broken bones and various infestations. Kirkenhazard fared the worst. The baboons ate his gun and the hand holding it and then turned the unfortunate man over to a groggy tiger, who found himself waking in a very bad mood.

Not one of the Extinctionists noticed a small dark craft rising silently from behind one of the chalets. It flew across the central park and scooped up a long-haired youth from the back of what looked like a small stripy donkey. The craft spun in a tight arc, like a stone in a sling, then hurtled into the night sky, as though it had to be somewhere in a real hurry.

Pedicures, and indeed all spa treatments, were cancelled for the next day.

Opal was desolate to find that, on top of everything else, her boots were ruined.

‘What is that stain?’ she demanded of Mervall and his recently liberated twin, Descant.

‘Dunno,’ muttered Descant, who was still a bit moody from his time in the cage.

‘It’s a dropping of some kind,’ volunteered Mervall quickly. ‘Judging from the size and texture, I would say one of the big cats got a little nervous.’ Opal sat on a bench, extending the boot. ‘Pull it off, Mervall.’ She placed her sole on Mervall’s forehead and pushed until he tumbled backwards, clutching the dropping-laden footwear.

‘That Mud Boy. He knows about my lemur. We must follow him. He is tagged, I take it.’ ‘Oh yes,’ confirmed Mervall. ‘All the newcomers are sprayed on landing. There’s a radioactive tracer in his every pore right now. Harmless, but there’s nowhere on this planet that he can hide from us.’ ‘Good. Excellent, in fact. I think of everything, do I not?’ ‘You do, Miss Koboi,’ droned Descant. ‘Brilliant you are. Astounding is your fabulosity.’ ‘Why thank you, Descant,’ said Opal, as ever oblivious to sarcasm. ‘And I thought you’d be upset after the pig pen. Fabulosity isn’t a word, by the way. In case you’re thinking of writing how wonderful I am in your diary.’ ‘Point taken,’ said Descant seriously.

Opal offered her other foot to Mervall. ‘Good. Now set the self-destructs on this place and let’s get the shuttle prepped. I want to find this human and kill him immediately. We were too nice last time, with the leeches. This time immediate death.’ Mervall winced. He was holding two boots covered in tiger droppings, and he’d prefer to wear those than be in that human’s shoes.

Artemis lay flat on his back in the cargo hold, wondering if he could possibly have dreamed the past few minutes. Super-leeches, sleeping tigers and a grumpy quagga.

He felt the floor vibrate beneath him and knew that they were moving at several times the speed of sound. Suddenly the vibration disappeared, to be replaced by a far more sedate hum. They were slowing down!

Artemis hurried to the cockpit, where Holly was glaring at a readout as if she could change the information displayed there. Jayjay was in the co-pilot’s seat and seemed to be in charge of steering.

Artemis pointed at the lemur. ‘This may seem like a silly question, but is Jayjay …’ ‘No. Autopilot. And nice to see you alive, by the way. You’re welcome for the rescue.’ Artemis touched her shoulder. ‘Once again, I owe you my life. Now, I hate to move directly from gratitude to petulance, but why have we slowed down? Time is running out. We had three days, remember? There are only hours left.’ Holly tapped the readout. ‘We were pinged by something at the compound. Someone’s computers have downloaded our schematics. Can you tell me any more about that?’ ‘Opal Koboi,’ said Artemis. ‘Opal is behind everything. She’s harvesting animal fluids to increase her own magic. If she gets her hands on Jayjay, she’ll be invincible.’ Holly did not have time to be incredulous. ‘That’s wonderful. Opal Koboi. I knew this little trip was missing a psychotic element. If Opal pinged us, then she’ll be on our tail in something a little more war-worthy than this clunker.’ ‘Shields?’

‘Nothing much. We might fool human radar but not fairy scanners.’ ‘What can we do?’

‘I need to keep us up here in the air-lanes with all the human traffic. We stay sub-sonic and don’t draw attention to ourselves. Then at the last moment we make a break for Fowl Manor. It won’t matter if Opal sees us then, because by the time she catches us we’ll be back in the time stream.’ Mulch Diggums poked his head through from the mail box. ‘Nothing much in here. A few gold coins. What say I keep them? And did I hear someone mention Opal Koboi?’ ‘Don’t worry about it. Everything is under control.’

Mulch guffawed. ‘Under control? Like Rathdown Park was under control. Like the leather souq was under control.’ ‘You’re not seeing us at our best,’ Artemis admitted. ‘But in time you will come to respect Captain Short and me.’ Mulch’s expression doubted it. ‘I’d better go and look up respect in the dictionary, because it mustn’t mean what I think it means, eh, Jayjay?’ The lemur clapped his delicate hands and chattered with what sounded like laughter.

‘It looks like you’ve found an intellectual equal, Mulch,’ said Holly, returning to her instruments. ‘It’s a pity he isn’t a girl; then you could marry him.’ Mulch imitated shock. ‘Romance outside your species. Now that’s disgusting. What kind of weirdo would kiss someone when they weren’t even part of the same species?’ Artemis massaged his suddenly pounding temples.

It’s a long way to Tipperary, he thought, and then a few more miles to Dublin.

‘A shuttle?’ said Opal. ‘A fairy shuttle?’

The Koboi craft was hovering at an altitude of thirty miles, tipping the border of space. Starlight winked on the hull of their matt-black shuttle and the Earth hung below them, wearing a stole of clouds.

‘That’s what the sensors show,’ said Mervall. ‘An old mining model. Not much under the hood and zero firepower. We should be able to catch it.’ ‘Should?’ said Opal, stretching an ankle to admire her new red boots. ‘Why should?’ ‘Well, we had her for a while. Then she went sub-sonic. I would guess their pilot is riding the human flight lanes until they feel safe.’ Opal smiled devilishly. She liked a challenge.

‘OK, let’s give ourselves every advantage. We have the speed and we have the weapons. All we need is to point ourselves in the right direction.’ ‘What an incrediferous idea,’ smirked Descant.

Opal was pained. ‘Please, Descant. Use short words. Don’t force me to vaporize you.’ This was a hollow threat, as Opal had not been able to produce so much as a spark since the compound. She still had the basics – mind control, levitation, that kind of thing – but she would need some serious bed rest before she could muster a lightning bolt. The Brills did not need to know that, though.

‘Here’s my idea. I ran the lab tapes through voice recognition and got a regional match. Whoever that Mud Boy is, he lives in central Ireland. Probably Dublin. I want you to get us down there as fast as you can, Descant, and when that mining shuttle drops out of the air lanes …’ Opal closed her tiny fingers round an imaginary ant, squeezing the blood from its body. ‘We will be waiting.’ ‘Fabulicious,’ said Descant.

FOWL MANOR

The sun had risen and was sinking again by the time Holly dragged the spluttering shuttle over the Fowl estate wall.

‘We’re close to the deadline and this piece of junk is close to dead,’ she said to Artemis. Holly placed a hand on her heart. ‘I can feel Number One’s spark dying inside, but there’s still time.’ Artemis nodded. The sight of the manor somehow made his mother’s plight seem even more urgent.

I have to go home.

‘Well done, Holly. You did it. Set us down in the rear courtyard. We can access the house by the kitchen door.’ Holly pressed a few buttons. ‘Around the back it is. Scanning for alarms. Found two and a sneaky third. Motion sensors, if I’m not mistaken. Only one alarm is being remotely monitored and the other two are self-contained. Should I disable the remote alarm?’ ‘Yes, Holly, please disable the alarm. Anybody home?’

Holly checked the thermal imaging. ‘One warm body. Top floor.’ Artemis sighed. Relieved. ‘Good. Just Mother. She will have taken her sleeping tablets by now. Little me can’t be back yet.’ Holly set the shuttle down as gently as she could, but the gears were stripped and the suspension bags were drained. There were dents in the stabilizers and the gyroscope was spinning like a weathervane. The landing gear stripped a channel of cobblestones from the courtyard surface, tumbling them like bricks of turf before the plough.

Artemis gathered Jayjay in his arms.

‘Are you ready for more adventures, little man?’

The lemur’s round eyes were filled with anxiety and he looked to Mulch for reassurance.

‘Always remember,’ said Mulch, tickling the creature’s chin, ‘that you are the smart one.’ The dwarf found an old duffel bag and began stuffing the remaining contents of the fridge inside.

‘No need for that,’ said Holly. ‘The ship is yours. Take it, dig up your booty and fly far away. Dump this heap in the sea and live off your earnings for a few years. Just promise me that you won’t sell to humans.’ ‘Only the junk,’ said Mulch. ‘And did you say that I could keep the shuttle?’ ‘Actually, I’m asking you to scrap it. You’ll be doing me a favour.’ Mulch grinned. ‘I’m a generous person. I could do you a favour.’ Holly smiled back. ‘Good. And remember, when we meet again, none of this ever happened, or it probably won’t.’ ‘My lips are sealed.’

Artemis squeezed past him. ‘Now there’s something I would pay to see. Mulch Diggums with his mouth closed.’ ‘Yes, nice meeting you too, Mud Boy. I look forward to robbing you in the future.’ Artemis shook his hand. ‘I look forward to it myself, believe it or not. We will have some fine times.’ Jayjay reached out for a handshake.

‘You look after the human, Jayjay,’ said Mulch seriously. ‘He’s a bit dim, but he means well.’ ‘Goodbye, Mister Diggums.’

‘Later, Master Fowl.’

Opal was on her third round of the Gola Schweem meditative circle chant when Mervall burst into her private chamber.

‘We found the shuttle, Miss Koboi,’ he panted, clutching a flexi-screen to his chest. ‘They went supersonic for barely a minute over the Mediterannean. But it was enough.’ ‘Humm humm haaa. Rahmumm humm haaaa,’ intoned Opal, finishing her chant. ‘Peace be inside me, tolerance all around me, forgiveness in my path. Now, Mervall, show me where the filthy human is, so that I may feed him his organs.’ Mervall proffered the flexi-screen. ‘Red dot. East coast.’

‘Military?’

‘No, surprisingly. It’s a residence. No defences whatsoever.’ Opal climbed out of her snuggle-me chair. ‘Good. Run a few scans. Warm up the cannons and get me down there.’ ‘Yes, Miss Koboi.’

‘And Mervall?’

‘Miss Koboi?’

‘I think little Descant has a crush on me. He told me earlier that I was very phototractive. Poor little simpleton. Could you tell him that I am unavailable? If you don’t, I shall have to have him killed.’ Merv sighed. ‘I shall tell him, Miss Koboi. I feel sure he will be disconnipted.’ Artemis found himself scratching Jayjay’s head as they moved through the manor.

‘Be calm, little chap. No one can hurt you now. We’re safe.’ Holly was behind him on the stairs, guarding the rear, two fingers rigidly extended. The fingers were not a loaded weapon but they could break bones with enough momentum behind them.

‘Come on, Artemis. Number One is weaker now, so we have to jump soon.’ Artemis stepped round a weight-sensitive pad on the twelfth step. ‘Nearly there. Seconds away.’ His study was exactly as he had left it, the wardrobe still open, a scarf drooping from the top shelf like an escaping snake.

‘Good,’ said Artemis, his confidence growing. ‘This is the spot. The exact spot.’ Holly was panting. ‘About time. I’m having trouble holding on to the signal. It’s like running after a smell.’ Artemis put an arm round her shoulder. A group of three – tired, hungry but excited.

Holly’s shoulders shook with an exhaustion and tension she had kept hidden until now.

‘I thought you were dead,’ she said.

‘Me too,’ admitted Artemis. ‘Then I realized that I couldn’t die, not in this time.’ ‘I presume you’re going to explain that to me.’

‘Later. Over supper. Now can we open the time stream, friend?’ There was a sudden swish as the bay-window curtain slid back. Young Artemis and Butler were there, both wearing foil suits. Butler unzipped his suit to reveal a large gun strapped across his chest.

‘What was that about a time stream?’ asked ten-year-old Artemis.

Mulch Diggums was burying a gold coin as a sacrifice to Shammy, the dwarf god of good fortune, when the earth exploded underneath him and he found himself straddling the blade of a shuttle ice-breaker prow.

I never even heard that coming, he thought, and then, So much for Shammy.

Before he could gather himself sufficiently to figure up from down, Mulch found himself tumbled to the base of a silver ash tree with the barrel of a Neutrino restricting the movement of his Adam’s apple. His beard hairs instinctively realized that the gun was not friendly and twined themselves round the barrel.

‘Nice shuttle,’ said Mulch, playing for time until the stars in his vision flickered out. ‘Whisper engine, I’m guessing.’ Three pixies stood before him. Two males and a female. Generally pixies were not very threatening creatures, but the males were armed and the female had a look in her eyes.

‘I bet,’ said Mulch. ‘That you would set the world on fire, just to watch it burn.’ Opal tapped the suggestion into a small electronic notepad on her pocket computer.

‘Thanks for that. Now tell me everything.’

I’ll resist for a minute, then feed her some misinformation, thought Mulch.

‘I’ll tell you nothing, pixie she-devil,’ he said, Adam’s apple knocking nervously against the gun barrel.

‘Oooh,’ said Opal, stamping with frustration. ‘Isn’t anyone afraid of me?’ She stripped off a glove, placing a thumb on Mulch’s temple.

‘Now, show me everything.’

And with a few remaining sparks of ill-gotten magic, she sucked every memory of the past few days from Mulch’s brain. It was an extremely unpleasant sensation even for someone used to expelling large amount of material from his person. Mulch gibbered and bucked as the last few days were vacuumed from his head. When Opal had what she wanted, the dwarf was left unconscious in the mud.

He would wake up an hour later with the starter chip for an LEP shuttle in his pocket and no idea how he’d got there.

Opal closed her eyes and flicked through her new memories.

‘Ah,’ she said, smiling. ‘A time stream.’

‘There isn’t time for this,’ insisted Artemis.

‘I think there is,’ argued ten-year-old Artemis. ‘You have broken into my house again, the least you can do is explain that time stream comment. Not to mention the fact that you are alive.’ Artemis the elder flicked his hair away from his face.

‘You must recognize me now. Surely.’

‘This is not a shampoo commercial. Please stop flicking your hair.’ Holly was bent almost double, her hand on her heart.

‘Hurry,’ she groaned. ‘Or I’ll have to go without you.’

‘Please,’ Artemis pleaded. ‘We need to go. It’s a matter of life and death.’ Young Artemis was unmoved. ‘I had a feeling you would be back. This is where it all began, right on this spot. I reviewed the security tapes and you simply appeared in this room. Then you followed me to Africa, so I thought if I saved the creature’s life you might end up back here with my lemur. We simply blocked our heat signatures and waited. And here you are.’ ‘That’s pretty flimsy reasoning,’ said Artemis the elder. ‘We were obviously after the lemur. Once we had the lemur, why would we return here?’ ‘I realize the logic was flawed, but I had nothing to lose. And, as we can see, a lot to gain.’ Holly did not have the patience for a Fowl gloating session.

‘Artemis, I know you have a heart. You’re a good person even if you don’t know it yet. You sacrificed your diamonds to save my life. What will it take for you to let us go?’ Young Artemis considered this for an infuriating minute and a half.

‘The truth,’ he said eventually. ‘I need to know the absolute truth about all of this. What kind of creature are you? Why does he look so familiar? What makes the lemur so special? Everything.’ Artemis the elder clutched Jayjay to his chest. ‘Get me a pair of scissors,’ he said.

Opal ran into the manor, casually squashing the magical nausea that flared upon entering a human dwelling without permission.

A time stream, she thought, almost giggling with excitement. Finally I can test my theories.

The manipulation of time had long been Opal’s ultimate goal. To be able to control one’s passage through time was the greatest power. But her magic was not strong enough without the lemur. It took teams of LEP warlocks to slow time down for a few hours; the magic required to open a door to the tunnel was stupendous. It would be easier to shoot down the moon.

Opal tapped this into her notepad.

Reminder. Shoot down the moon? Viable?

But, if she could gain entrance to the tunnel, Opal felt sure that she would quickly master the science involved.

It’s more than likely an intuitive organism and, after all, I am a genius.

She scaled the stairs, mindless of the scuff marks the high human steps inflicted on her new boots. Mervall and Descant trailed behind, surprised at this lack of footwear prudence.

‘I got thrown in the pig pen for boots,’ muttered Descant. ‘Now, she’s scratching those ones on the stairs. Typical Koboi inconsistency. I think I’m getting an ulcer.’ Opal reached the upper landing and raced immediately through an open doorway.

‘How does she know that’s the right room?’ wondered Descant.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Mervall, resting his hands on his knees. Scaling human steps is not easy for pixies. Big heads, short legs, tiny lungs. ‘Maybe it’s the magical red glow coming from the doorway, or perhaps it’s the deafening howl of the temporal winds.’ Descant nodded. ‘You could be right, brother. And don’t think I don’t know sarcasm when I hear it.’ Opal traipsed from the room, her expression sour.

‘They have gone,’ she announced. ‘And the tunnel is about to close. Also my boots are ruined. So, boys, I am looking for someone to blame.’ The Brill brothers took one look at each other, then turned and ran as fast as their tiny legs would carry them.

Not fast enough.