فصل چهاردهم

CHAPTER 14: THE HOLE IN

THE ACE

HOLLY felt herself relax as soon as they entered the stream.

Safe for the moment.

Jayjay was safe. Soon Artemis’s mother would be well, and when that was accomplished Holly decided that she would punch her erstwhile friend in his smug face.

I did what I had to do, Artemis had said. And I would do it again.

And she had kissed him. Kissed him!

Holly understood Artemis’s motives, but it wounded her deeply that he had felt the need to blackmail her.

I would have helped anyway. Definitely. Would you? Would you have disobeyed orders? Was Artemis right to do it his way?

These were questions that Holly knew would haunt her for years. If she had years left to her.

The journey was more arduous than before. The time stream was eroding her sense of self and there was a syrupy temptation to relax her concentration. Her world seemed less important wrapped in its sparkling waves. Being part of an eternal river would be a pleasant way to exist. And if the fairy races were wiped out by plague, what of it?

No1’s presence pricked her consciousness, bolstering her resolve. The little demon’s power was evident in the stream, a shimmering thread of crimson pulling them on through the miasma. Things moved in the shadows. Darting, sharp things. Holly sensed teeth and hooked fingers.

Had Number One mentioned something about quantum zombies? That was probably a joke. Please let that be a joke.

Concentrate! Holly told herself. Or you will be absorbed.

She could feel other presences travelling with her. Jayjay was surprisingly calm, considering his surroundings. Somewhere in the periphery was Artemis, his sense of purpose keen as a blade.

Number One is going to get a shock, thought Holly, when he sees us pop through.

No1 didn’t seem very shocked when the group tumbled from the stream, solidifying on the floor of Artemis’s study.

‘See any zombies?’ he asked with a spooky wiggling of his fingers.

‘Thank the gods,’ proclaimed Foaly from the television screens, then exhaled loudly through his broad nostrils. ‘That was the longest ten seconds of my life. Did you get the lemur?’ There was no need for an answer as Jayjay decided he liked the sound of Foaly’s voice and gave the nearest screen a lick. The little primate’s tongue crackled and he scampered back, shooting Foaly a glare.

‘One lemur,’ said the centaur. ‘No female?’

Holly shook the stars from her eyes, the fog from her head. The stream lingered in her head like the last moments of sleep.

‘No. No female. You’ll have to clone him.’

Foaly peered past Holly to the shuddering form on the ground behind her.

The centaur raised an eyebrow.

‘I see we have an–’

‘Let’s talk about that later,’ said Holly sharply, interrupting the centaur, ‘for now we have work to do.’ Foaly nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’m guessing, from the look of things, that Artemis has a plan of some sort. Is that going to be a problem for us?’ ‘Only if we try to stop it,’ said Holly.

Artemis took Jayjay into his arms, stroking the little lemur’s mohican, calming him with a rhythmic clicking of his tongue.

Holly felt that she too would be calmed, not by Artemis’s clicking but by the sight of her own face in the mirror. She was herself again; her one-piece fitted snugly. A grown woman. No more teenage confusion. She would feel even better once she retrieved her gear. There was nothing like a Neutrino on the hip for a self-confidence boost.

‘Time to see Mother,’ said Artemis grimly, selecting a suit from the wardrobe. ‘How much fluid should I administer?’ ‘It’s powerful stuff,’ said Foaly, entering some calculations on his keyboard. ‘Two cc’s. No more. There is a syringe gun in Holly’s medi-kit bedside table. Be very careful with the brain drain. There’s an anaesthetic tab in there too. Give Jayjay a swab and he won’t feel a thing.’ ‘Very well,’ Artemis said, pocketing the kit. ‘I shall go in alone. I do hope Mother recognizes me.’ ‘So do I,’ agreed Holly. ‘Or she may object to lemur brain juice being injected into her by a total stranger.’ Artemis’s hand hovered over the crystal doorknob on his parents’ bedroom door. In its facets he could see a dozen reflections of his own face. Each one was drawn and worried.

Last chance. My last chance to save her.

I am forever trying to save people, he thought. I’m supposed to be a criminal. Where did it all go wrong?

No time for drifting. There was more at stake here than gold or notoriety. His mother was dying, and her salvation was perched on Artemis’s shoulder, searching his scalp for ticks.

Artemis closed his fingers over the knob. Not another moment to waste on thoughts, time now for action.

The room seemed colder than he remembered, but this was doubtless his imagination.

All minds play tricks. Even mine. The perceived cold is a projection of my mood, nothing more.

His parents’ bedroom was rectangular in shape, stretching along the west wing from front to rear. It was actually more of an apartment than a room, with a lounge area and office corner. The large four-poster bed was angled so that tinted light from a medieval stained-glass porthole would fall across the studded headboard in summer.

Artemis placed his feet carefully on the rug like a ballet dancer, avoiding the vine pattern in the weave.

Step on a vine, count to nine.

Bad luck was the last thing he needed.

Angeline Fowl was splayed on the bed, as though thrown there. Her head was angled back so sharply that the line from her neck to chin was almost straight, and her skin was pale enough to seem translucent.

She’s not breathing, thought Artemis, panic fluttering in his chest like a caged bird. I was wrong. I am too late.

Then his mother’s entire frame convulsed as she dragged down a painful breath.

Artemis’s resolve almost left him then. His legs were boneless rubber and his forehead burned.

This is my mother. How can I do what needs to be done?

But he would do it. There wasn’t anyone else who could.

Artemis reached his mother’s side and gently pushed strands of hair back from her face.

‘I am here, Mother. Everything will be fine. I found a cure.’ Somehow, Angeline Fowl heard her son’s words and her eyes flickered open. Even her retinas had lost their colour, fading to the ice blue of a winter lake.

‘Cure,’ she sighed. ‘My little Arty found the cure.’

‘That’s right,’ said Artemis. ‘Little Arty found the cure. It was the lemur. Remember, the Madagascan lemur from Rathdown Park?’ Angeline raised a bone-thin finger, tickling the air before Jayjay’s nose. ‘Little lemur. Cure.’ Jayjay, unsettled by the bedridden woman’s skeletal appearance, ducked behind Artemis’s head.

‘Nice lemur,’ said Angeline, a weak smile twitching her lips.

I am the parent now, thought Artemis. She is the child.

‘Can I hold him?’

Artemis took a half-step back. ‘No, Mother. Not yet. Jayjay is a very important creature. This little fellow could save the world.’ Angeline spoke through her teeth. ‘Let me hold him. Just for a moment.’ Jayjay crawled down the back of Artemis’s jacket, as though he understood the request and did not want to be held.

‘Please, Arty. It would comfort me to hold him.’

Artemis nearly handed the lemur over. Nearly.

‘Holding him will not cure you, Mother. I need to inject some fluid into one of your veins.’ Angeline seemed to be regaining her strength. She inched backwards, sliding her head up the headboard. ‘Don’t you want to make me happy, Arty?’ ‘I prefer healthy to happy for the moment,’ said Artemis, making no move to hand over the lemur.

‘Don’t you love me, son?’ crooned Angeline. ‘Don’t you love your mummy?’ Artemis moved briskly, tearing open the medi-kit, closing his fingers round the transfusion gun. A single tear rolled down his pale cheek.

‘I love you, Mother. I love you more than life. If you could only know what I have been through to find little Jayjay. Just be still for five seconds, then this nightmare will be over.’ Angeline’s eyes were crafty slits. ‘I don’t want you to inject me, Artemis. You’re not a trained nurse. Wasn’t there a doctor here, or was I dreaming that?’ Artemis primed the gun, waiting for the charge light to flash green. ‘I have administered shots before, Mother. I gave you your medicine more than once the last time you were… ill.’ ‘Artemis!’ snapped Angeline, the flat of her hand slapping the sheet. ‘I demand that you give the lemur to me now! This instant! And summon the doctor.’ Artemis plucked a vial from the medi-kit. ‘You are hysterical, Mother. Not yourself. I think I should give you a sedative before I administer the antidote.’ He slid the vial into the gun, reaching for his mother’s arm.

‘No,’ Angeline virtually screeched, slapping him away with surprising strength. ‘Don’t touch me with your LEP sedatives, you stupid boy.’ Artemis froze. ‘LEP, Mother? What do you know of the LEP?’

Angeline tugged her lip, a guilty child. ‘What? Did I say LEP? Three letters, no more. They mean nothing to me.’ Artemis took another step away from the bed, gathering Jayjay protectively in his arms.

‘Tell me the truth, Mother. What is happening here?’

Angeline abandoned her innocent act, pounding the mattress with delicate fists, squealing in frustration.

‘I despise you, Artemis Fowl. You bothersome human. How I loathe you.’ Not words one expects to hear from one’s mother.

Angeline lay flat on the bed, steaming with rage. Literally steaming. Her eyeballs rolled in their sockets and tendons stood out like steel cables on her arms and neck. All the time she ranted.

‘When I have the lemur, I will crush you all. The LEP, Foaly, Julius Root. All of you. I will send laser dogs down every tunnel in the Earth’s crust until I flush out that odious dwarf. And as for that female captain, I will brainwash her and make her my slave.’ She cast a hateful look at Artemis. ‘Fitting revenge. Don’t you agree, my son.’ The last two words dripped from her lips like poison from a viper’s fangs.

Artemis held Jayjay close. He could feel the small creature shiver against his chest. Or perhaps the shivering was his own.

‘Opal,’ he said. ‘You followed us home.’

‘Finally!’ shouted Artemis’s mother, in Opal’s voice. ‘The great boy genius sees the truth.’ Angeline’s limbs stiffened and she levitated from the bed, surrounded by a roiling mist of steam. Her pale blue eyes cut through the fog, spearing Artemis with their mad glare.

‘Did you think you could win? Did you believe that the battle was won? How charmingly deluded. You do not even possess any magic. I on the other hand have more magic than any other fairy since the demon warlocks. And, once I have the lemur, I will be immortal.’ Artemis rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t forget invincible.’

‘I haaate you,’ squealed Opal/Angeline. ‘When I have the lemur, I will… I will …’ ‘Kill me in some horrible fashion,’ suggested Artemis.

‘Precisely. Thank you.’

Angeline’s body pivoted stiffly until she hovered upright, her halo of charged hair brushing the ceiling.

‘Now,’ she said, pointing a skeletal finger at the cowering Jayjay. ‘Give me that creature.’ Artemis wrapped the lemur in his jacket.

‘Come and get him,’ he said.

In the study, Holly was running through Artemis’s theory.

‘That’s it?’ said No1 when Holly had finished explaining. ‘You’re not forgetting some crucial detail? Like the part that makes sense?’ ‘The whole thing is ridiculous!’ interjected Foaly from the monitors. ‘Come on, fairies. We’ve done our bit. Time to head below ground.’ ‘Soon,’ said Holly. ‘Let’s just give Artemis five minutes to check it out. All we need to do is be alert.’ Foaly’s sigh crackled through the speakers. ‘Well, at least let me raise the shuttle. The troops are holding at Tara, waiting for a call-back.’ Holly thought about this. ‘That’s good. You do that. Whatever happens, we need to be ready to move out. And when you’re finished do a sweep of the estate – see where that nurse is.’ Foaly’s focus shifted left while he put a call in to Tara.

Holly pointed at No1. ‘You just have a little of that signature magic dancing on your fingertips in case we need it. I won’t feel completely safe until Angeline is well, and we’re drinking sim-coffee in a Haven bar.’ No1 raised his hands, and soon they were enveloped in ripples of red power. ‘No problem, Holly. I’m ready for anything.’ It was a statement that was missing an almost.

In the same split second, the monitors blacked out and the door burst open with a force that actually drove the doorknob into the wall. Butler’s huge frame filled the gap.

Holly’s smile slipped when she noticed the pistol in the bodyguard’s fist and the mirrored sunglasses covering his eyes.

He’s armed and doesn’t want to be mesmerized.

Holly was quick, but Butler was quicker and he had the element of surprise – after all, he was supposed to be on his way to China. Holly went for her gun, but Butler was there before her, ripping the Neutrino from her hip.

We have other tricks, thought Holly. We have magic. Number One will knock your socks off.

Butler dragged something into the room on a trolley. A steel barrel with runes etched on the metal.

What’s this? What’s he doing?

No1 managed to get off a single bolt. Indoor lightning that scorched Butler’s shirt, knocking him back a pace, but even as he stumbled backwards the bodyguard swung the trolley past him, slingshotting it into the room. A thick slime slopped from the barrel’s open mouth, splashing on No1’s legs. It trundled forward, knocking Holly and No1 aside like skittles.

No1 stared at his fingers as the magic on each tip winked out like candles in a breeze.

‘I don’t feel so great,’ he groaned, then keeled over, eyes flickering, lips muttering ancient spells which did not one iota of good.

What is in that barrel? wondered Holly, releasing her suit’s wings from their sheath. Butler grabbed Holly’s ankle as she ascended, flipping her ignominiously into the barrel. She felt the thick gunk close over her like a wet fist, blocking her nose, filling her throat.

The smell was repulsive.

Animal fat, she realized, with a spasmodic shudder of horror. Pure rendered fat, with a few hexes stirred into it.

Animal fat had been used as a magic suppressor for millennia. Even the most powerful warlock was helpless when dipped in rendered fat. You throw a warlock in a barrel of fat, seal it with woven willow bark and bury it in a consecrated human graveyard, and that warlock was as helpless as a kitten in a sack. The experience would be made even more terrible by the fact that most fairies are devout vegetarians and would be perfectly aware how many animals had to die to produce an entire barrel of fat.

Who told Butler about this? Holly wondered. Who is controlling him?

Then No1 was jammed in beside her and the fat level rose to cover their heads. Holly surged upwards, clearing her eyes just in time to see a lid bearing down on the barrel mouth, eclipsing the ceiling light.

No helmet, she lamented. I wish I had my helmet.

Then the lid was on and sealed. The fat found the neck-hole in her one-piece and wormed inside, probing her face and invading her ears. Hexes swirled like malevolent snakes, keeping her magic at bay.

Lost, thought Holly. The worst death I can imagine. Sealed in a small space. Like my mother.

No1 convulsed beside her. The little warlock must feel like the soul was being sucked right out of him.

Holly panicked. She kicked and fought, bruising her elbows, tearing the skin from her knees. Where magic tried to heal her wounds, the hex snakes zoomed in, swallowing the sparks.

She almost opened her mouth to scream. The merest thread of reason stopped her. Then something brushed against her face. A corrugated tube. There were two.

Breathing tubes …

With frantic fingers, Holly felt her way to the end of the tube. She fought her natural instinct to jam the tube into No1’s mouth.

In the event of an emergency, always take care of yourself first before you attend to civilians.

So Holly used her absolute last puff of air to clear the pipe as a diver would clear his snorkel. She imagined blobs of fat spraying the room outside.

I hope Butler’s suit is ruined, she thought.

No choice now but to inhale. Air whistled down to her, mixed with wormy slivers of fat. Holly blew again, clearing the last traces of gunk.

Now for No1. His wriggling grew weaker as his power waned. For someone with such power, this dunking must be almost intolerable. Holly blocked her own tube with a thumb, then cleared the second one before twisting it into No1’s slack mouth. For a moment there was no reaction, and she thought it was too late, then No1 jerked, spluttered and started, like an old engine on a frosty morning.

Alive, thought Holly. We are both alive. If Butler wanted us dead, then we already would be.

She braced her feet on the base of the barrel and hugged No1 tightly. Calm was needed here.

Calm, she broadcast, though she knew No1’s empathy would be muted. Calm, little friend. Artemis will save us. If he is alive, she thought, but did not broadcast.

Artemis backed away from the nightmare version of his mother that hovered before him. Jayjay screeched and bucked in his arms, but Artemis held him tightly, automatically scratching the tiny brush of hair on his crown.

‘Hand over that creature,’ demanded Opal. ‘You have no choice.’ Artemis circled Jayjay’s neck with his thumb and forefinger.

‘Oh, I think I have a choice.’

Opal was horrified. ‘You wouldn’t kill an innocent creature.’ ‘I did it before.’

Opal studied his eyes. ‘I don’t think you would do it again, Artemis Fowl. My fairy intuition tells me that you are not as cold-hearted as you pretend to be.’ It was true. Artemis knew he couldn’t harm Jayjay, even to derail Opal’s plans. Still, no reason to tell Opal that.

‘My heart is cold, pixie. Believe it. Use some of that magical empathy to search my soul.’ His tone gave Opal pause. There was steel there, and he was hard to read. Perhaps she should not gamble so recklessly with him.

‘Very well, human. Hand over the creature and I will spare your friends.’ ‘I have no friends,’ Artemis shot back, though he knew it was a transparent bluff. Opal had been here for a few days at least. She had doubtless hijacked the manor’s surveillance and security.

The Angeline Opal scratched her chin. ‘Hmm, no friends. Apart from the LEP elf who accompanied you to the past, and of course the demon warlock who sent you back. Not to mention your big burly bodyguard.’ Alliteration, thought Artemis. She’s toying with me.

‘Then again,’ mused Opal/Angeline, ‘Butler is not really your friend any more. He’s mine.’ This was a worrying statement, and perhaps true. Artemis, usually an expert interpreter of body language and telltale tics, was flummoxed by this crazed version of his mother.

‘Butler would never willingly befriend you!’

Opal shrugged. It was a fair point. ‘Who said anything about willingly?’ Artemis paled.

Uh-oh.

‘Let me explain what happened,’ said Opal sweetly. ‘I scrambled the brains of my little helpers somewhat, so they could not report on me, then had them fly the shuttle back to Haven. Then I hitched a ride on your time stream before it closed. Oh so simple for someone with my skill set. You didn’t even leave a hex at the hole.’ Artemis snapped his fingers. ‘I knew I had forgotten something.’ Opal smiled thinly. ‘Amusing. Anyway, it became obvious to me that I was or would be responsible for this entire affair, so I dropped out of the stream a few days early and took my time getting to know your group. Mother, father, Butler.’ ‘Where is my mother?’ shouted Artemis, anger punching through his calm exterior, like a hammer through ice.

‘Why I’m right here, darling,’ said Opal in Angeline’s voice. ‘I am really sick and I need you to go into the past and fetch a magic monkey for me.’ She laughed mockingly. ‘Humans are such fools.’ ‘So this is not some kind of shape-shifting spell?’

‘No, idiot. I was perfectly aware that Angeline would be examined. Shape-shifting spells are only skin deep, and even an adept such as myself can only hold one for short periods.’ ‘This means that my mother is not dying?’ Artemis knew the answer, but he had to be certain.

Opal ground her teeth, torn between impatience and the desire to explain the brilliance of her plan.

‘Not yet. Though soon the damage to her systems will be irreversible. I have possessed her from a distance. An extreme form of the mesmer. With power like mine, I can manipulate her very organs. Imitating Spelltropy was child’s play. And once I have little Jayjay I can open my own hole in time.’ ‘So you are nearby? Your real self?’

Opal had had enough of questions. ‘Yes, no. What does it matter? I win, you lose. Accept it, or everyone dies.’ Artemis edged towards the door. ‘This game is not over yet.’

Footsteps outside and a strange rhythmic squeaking. A wheelbarrow, Artemis guessed, though he did not have much experience with gardening aids.

‘Oh, I think this game is over now,’ said Opal slyly.

The heavy door bounced in fits as it was butted from the outside. Butler pushed the trolley into the room, stumbling after it, hunched and shivering.

‘He is strong, this one,’ said Opal, almost in admiration. ‘I mesmerized him, but still he refused to kill your friends. The stupid man’s heart almost burst. It was all I could do to force him to construct the barrel and fill it with fat.’ ‘To smother fairy magic,’ Artemis guessed.

‘Obviously, idiot. Now, the game is absolutely over. Finished. Butler is my ace in the hole, as you humans might say. I hold all the aces. You are alone. Give me the lemur and I will go back to my own time. Nobody has to suffer.’ If Opal gets the lemur, then the entire planet will suffer, thought Artemis.

Opal snapped her fingers. ‘Butler, seize the animal.’

Butler took a single step towards Artemis, then stopped. Shudders racked his broad back, and his fingers were claws wringing an invisible neck.

‘I said get the animal, you stupid human.’

The bodyguard dropped to his knees, pounding the floor, trying to drive the voice from his head.

‘Get the lemur now!’ shrieked Opal.

Butler had enough strength for three words. ‘Go… to… hell.’

Then he clutched at his arm and collapsed.

‘Oops,’ said Opal. ‘Heart attack. I broke him.’

Stay focused, Artemis ordered himself. Opal may hold all the aces, but perhaps there is a hole in one of those aces.

Artemis tickled Jayjay under the chin.

‘Hide, little friend. Hide.’

And with that he tossed the lemur towards a chandelier suspended from the ceiling. Jayjay flailed in the air, then latched on to a glass strut. He pulled himself nimbly into the light, hiding behind sheets of dangling crystal.

Opal immediately lost interest in Artemis, concentrating on levitating Angeline’s body to the level of the chandalier. With a squeal of frustration she realized that such remote elevation was beyond even a being of her power.

‘Doctor Schalke!’ she called, and somewhere her real mouth was calling it too. ‘Into the bedroom, Schalke!’ Artemis filed this information, then ducked below Opal to his mother’s bedside. A mobile defibrillator cart was parked among the row of medical equipment ranged around the four-poster, and Artemis quickly switched it on, dragging the entire contraption to the limit of its lead to where Butler had collapsed.

The bodyguard lay face up, hands thrown back as though there were an invisible boulder on his chest. His face was stretched with the effort of moving the great stone. Eyes closed, sweat sheened, teeth clenched.

He unbuttoned Butler’s shirt, exposing a barrel chest, hard with muscle, scars and tension. A cursory examination told him that there was no heartbeat. Butler’s body was dead; only his brain was left alive.

‘Hold on, old friend,’ murmured Artemis, trying to keep his mind focused.

He pulled the defibrillator paddles from their holsters, peeling back their disposable safety covers, leaving a thin coating of conductive gel on the contact surfaces. The paddles seemed to grow heavier as he waited for the unit to charge, and by the time the go light flashed green, they felt like rocks in his hands.

‘Clear!’ he called to no one in particular, then positioned the paddles firmly on Butler’s chest and hit the shock button under his thumb, sending 360 joules of electricity into his bodyguard’s heart. Butler’s body arched, and the sharp smell of burning hair and skin assailed Artemis’s nostrils. Gel crisped and sparked, burning twin rings where the pads had made contact. Butler’s eyes flew open and his massive hands gripped Artemis’s shoulders.

Is he still Opal’s slave?

‘Artemis,’ breathed Butler, but then frowned in confusion. ‘Artemis? How?’ ‘Later, old friend,’ said the Irish boy brusquely, mentally progressing to the next problem. ‘Just rest for now.’ This was not an order he would have to repeat. Butler sank immediately into exhausted unconsciousness, but his heart beat strongly inside his chest. He had not been dead long enough to have suffered brain damage.

Artemis’s next problem was Opal, or more specifically how to get her out of his mother’s body. If she did not vacate soon, Artemis had no doubt that his mother would not recover from the ordeal.

Gathering his nerve with several deep breaths, Artemis switched his full attention to his mother’s hovering body. She was twirling below the chandelier as though suspended from it, clawing at Jayjay, who appeared to be taunting her by waving his hind quarters in her direction.

Can this situation get any more surreal?

Just then Doctor Schalke entered the room, brandishing a pistol that seemed too large for his delicate hands.

‘I am here, you creature. Though I must say I don’t like your tone. I may be spellbound, but I am not an animal.’ ‘Do shut up, Schalke. I can see I will have to fry a few more of your brain cells. Now, please. Fetch that lemur!’ Schalke pointed four fingers of his free hand towards the chandelier. ‘The lemur is at a considerable height, yes? How do you suggest I fetch him? Perhaps I could shoot him dead?’ Opal swooshed low, arms and legs twirling like a harpy. ‘No!’ she shrieked, striking him around the head and shoulders. ‘I would shoot a hundred of you, a thousand, before I let you harm one hair of that creature’s fur. He is the future. My future! The world’s future!’ ‘Indeed,’ said the doctor. ‘Were I not mesmerized, I suspect I should be yawning.’ ‘Shoot the humans,’ commanded Opal. ‘The boy first, he is the most dangerous.’ ‘Are you certain? The man mountain looks more dangerous to me.’ ‘Shoot the boy!’ howled Opal, frustration sending tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘Then Butler and then yourself.’ Artemis swallowed. This was cutting things a bit fine; his accomplice had better get a move on.

‘Very well,’ said Schalke, fiddling with the safety on Butler’s Sig Sauer. ‘Anything to escape these theatrics.’ I have seconds before he figures out that catch, thought Artemis. Seconds to distract Opal. Nothing to do but reveal the hole in her ace.

‘Come now, Opal,’ Artemis said, with a calmness he did not feel. ‘You wouldn’t shoot a ten-year-old boy, would you?’ ‘I absolutely would,’ said Opal without a heartbeat’s hesitation. ‘I am considering cloning you so that I can kill you over and over again. Heaven.’ Then all of what Artemis had said registered.

‘Ten? Did you say you were ten years old?’

Artemis forgot all about the danger surrounding him, lost in the sweet moment of triumph. It was intoxicating.

‘Yes, that is what I said. I am ten. My real mother would have noticed immediately.’ Opal chewed the knuckles of Angeline’s left hand. Thinking.

‘You are the Artemis Fowl from my time? They brought you back!’ ‘Obviously.’

Opal reared back through the air, as though taken by the wind.

‘There is another one. Here somewhere, another Artemis Fowl.’ ‘Finally!’ said Artemis smirking. ‘The great pixie genius sees the truth.’ ‘Find him,’ shrieked Opal. ‘Find him immediately. At once.’

Schalke straightened his glasses. ‘At once and immediately. This must be important.’ Opal watched him go with real hatred in her eyes. ‘When this is over, I am going to destroy this entire estate just for spite. And then, when I return to the past, I shall–’ ‘Don’t tell me,’ interrupted ten-year-old Artemis Fowl. ‘You will destroy it again.’ ALMOST EIGHT YEARS AGO

When fourteen-year-old Artemis had had a moment to consider things, sometime in between scaling pylons and outwitting murderous Extinctionists, he realized that there were a lot of unanswered questions about his mother’s illness. He had supposedly given her Spelltropy, but who had passed it to him? Holly’s magic had permeated his body in the past, but she herself was hale and hearty. Why wasn’t she sick? Or, for that matter, how did Butler escape infection? He had been healed so many times that he must be half fairy by now.

And, of all the thousands of humans healed, mesmerized or wiped every year, his mother was the one to fall ill. The mother of the only human on Earth who could do something about it. Very coincidental. Too coincidental by far.

So. Either someone had deliberately infected his mother, or the symptoms were being magically duplicated. Either way, the result was the same: Artemis would travel back in time to find the antidote. The lemur, Jayjay.

And who would want Jayjay found as much as Artemis did? The answer to that question lay in the past. Opal Koboi, of course. The little primate was the last ingredient in her magical cocktail. With his brain fluid in her bloodstream she would be literally the most powerful person on the planet. And if Opal couldn’t nab Jayjay in her own time, she would get him in the future. Whatever it took. She must have followed them back through the time stream, jumped out early and organized this whole affair. Presumably, once she had Jayjay’s brain fluid, navigating her way back would not be a problem.

It was confusing even for Artemis. Opal wouldn’t even be in his present if he hadn’t gone back in time. And he only went back in time because of a situation she created. It was Artemis’s own attempts to cure his mother which had led Opal to infect her.

But one thing he now felt sure of was that Opal was behind this. She was behind them and in front of them. Chasing their group into her own clutches. A time paradox.

There are two Opals in this equation, thought Artemis. I think there should continue to be two Artemis Fowls.

And so a plan had taken shape in his mind.

Once the young Artemis had been apprised of all the details and convinced of their accuracy, he at once agreed to accompany them to the future, in spite of Butler’s vocal objection.

‘It’s my mother, Butler,’ he said simply. ‘I must save her. Now I charge you to stay by her side until I return. Anyway, how could they hope to succeed without me?’ ‘How indeed,’ Holly Short had wondered, then taken more pleasure than was necessary in watching that arrogance drain from the boy’s features when the time stream opened in front of them, like the maw of some great computer-generated serpent.

‘Chin up, Mud Boy,’ she’d said as Artemis the younger watched his arm dissolve. ‘And watch out for quantum zombies.’ The time stream had been difficult for Artemis the elder. Any other human would have been torn apart by such repeated exposure to its particular radiation, but Artemis held himself together by sheer willpower. He focused on the high end of his intellect, solving unprovable theorems with large cardinals and composing an ending for Schubert’s unfinished Symphony No8.

As he worked, Artemis sensed the odd derisive comment from his younger self.

More B minor? Do you really think so?

Had he always been this obnoxious? How tiresome. Little wonder people in general did not like him.

FOWL MANOR, THE PRESENT

Back in his own time, in his own house, Artemis the elder paused only to grab some clothes from the wardrobe before quickly exiting his study, warning Foaly and No1 to keep silent with a simple shhh. He moved quickly along the corridor towards the dumb-waiter shaft adjacent to the second-floor tea room. This was not the most direct route to the security centre, in fact the route was circuitous and awkward, but it was the only way to pass through the house undetected.

Butler believed he had every square inch of the manor, apart from the Fowl’s private chambers, under surveillance, but Artemis had long since worked how to travel through the house without being picked up on camera. This route involved hiding in corners, walking on furniture, travelling in dumb waiters and tilting a full-length mirror to just the right angle.

It was possible, of course, that a hostile could figure out the same pathways, co-ordinates and trajectories, and also move about the house undetected. Possible, but highly improbable, not without an intimate knowledge of nooks and crannies that did not exist on any plans.

Artemis followed a zigzag pattern down the hallway, a second behind a security camera’s sweep, then ducked quickly inside the dumb-waiter shaft. Luckily, the box was on this floor, or he would have been forced to shin down the cable and shinning was not one of his strong suits. Artemis reached outside and pressed the ground-floor button, whipping his hand back in before the descending box caught his wrist. While it was true that security would register the dumb waiter descending, it would not set off any red lights.

Once at kitchen level, Artemis rolled on to the floor, opening the fridge door to shield his movement into the pantry. Deep shadows concealed him until the camera swung away from the doorway allowing him climb on top of the table and jump outside.

All the time thinking. Plotting.

Assume the worst. Little Artemis is helpless and Holly and Number One are already incapacitated. Quite possible if someone like Butler were mesmerized and doing the incapacitating. Opal is somewhere near the command centre, manipulating my mother. It was Opal who could see the magic inside me. Not Mother. She peeled away the spell I had cast over my parents.

And: Of course B minor. If one starts in B minor, one finishes in B minor. Any fool knows that.

A suit of medieval armour stood in the main lobby. The same armour that Butler had put on to do battle with a troll during the Fowl Manor seige five years earlier. Artemis approached it slowly, his back flat against an abstract grey-black tapestry that camouflaged him almost perfectly. Once concealed behind the suit of armour, he nudged the base of an adjacent mirror until it reflected a spotlight’s beam directly into the lens of the lobby camera.

Now his path to the security centre was clear. Artemis strode purposefully towards the booth. This was where Opal would be, he was certain of it. From there she could monitor the entire house and it was directly below Angeline’s bedroom. If Opal was indeed controlling his mother, closer was better.

It was clear from several metres away that he was right. Artemis could hear Opal ranting from a distance.

‘There is another one. Here somewhere, another Artemis Fowl.’ Either the penny had dropped, or young Artemis had been forced to reveal their plan. ‘Find him,’ shrieked Opal. ‘Find him immediately. At once.’ Artemis stepped quietly into the security control booth – a boxroom off the main lobby that had served in its time as a cloakroom, weapons lock-up and holding cell for prisoners. Now, it housed a computer desk, similar to those found in editing suites, and stacks of monitors displaying live feeds of the manor and grounds.

Huddled before the monitor bank was Opal, dressed in Holly’s LEP gear. She had wasted no time in stealing the fairy suit. It was mere minutes since Artemis had locked it in the safe.

The little pixie was multi-tasking furiously, scanning the monitors while maintaining remote control over Artemis’s mother. Her dark hair was sweat-slicked and her childlike limbs shook with the effort.

Artemis sneaked into the room, quickly punching the code into the weapons locker.

‘When this is over, I am going to destroy this entire estate just for spite. And then, when I return to the past, I shall–’ Opal froze. Something had made a clicking noise. She turned to find Artemis Fowl pointing a weapon of some kind at her. She immediately abandoned all other spells, throwing her efforts into a desperate mesmer.

‘Drop that gun,’ she intoned. ‘You are my slave.’

Artemis felt instantly woozy, but he had already pressed the trigger and a dart loaded with a Butler special concoction of muscle relaxants and sedatives buried its long needle in Opal’s neck, where there was no protection from the suit. This was a shot in a million, since Artemis was not proficient with firearms. As Butler put it: Artemis, a genius you may be, but leave the shooting to me, because you couldn’t hit the backside of a stationary elephant.

Opal concentrated furiously on the puncture wound, dousing it with magical sparks, but it was too late. The drug was already entering her brain, loosening her control on the magic inside her.

She began to sway and flicker, alternating between her real pixie self and Miss Book.

Miss Book, thought Artemis. My suspicions were correct. The only stranger in the equation.

Intermittently, Opal disappeared altogether, shield buzzing in and out. Magical bolts shot from her fingers, frying the monitors before Artemis could get a look at what was going on upstairs.

‘Now I can do the bolts,’ she slurred. ‘I’ve been trying to focus enough magic all week.’ The magic shifted and swirled, finally etching a picture in the air. It was a rough picture of Foaly, and he was laughing.

‘I hate you, centaur!’ screamed Opal, lunging towards and through the insubstantial image. Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed snoring on the floor.

Artemis straightened his tie.

Freud, he felt certain, would have a field day with that.

Artemis hurried upstairs to his parents’ room. The rug was coated in a pool of lumpy fat. Two sets of fairy footprints led from the turgid pearlescent puddle into the en suite wetroom. Artemis heard the power shower drilling against the tiles.

Opal used animal fat to suppress Number One’s magic. How despicable. How horrible.

Young Artemis was studying the spreading mass of goo.

‘Look,’ he said, noticing his older self. ‘Opal used animal fat to suppress Number One’s magic. How ingenious.’ Under the noise of the shower were the sounds of retching and complaining. Butler was hosing down Holly and No1 and they were not happy or healthy.

But alive. Both alive.

Angeline lay on her bed, wrapped in a goosedown duvet. She was pale and dazed, but was it Artemis’s imagination or had just a tinge of colour crept back into her cheeks? She coughed gently and immediately both Artemises were at her side.

Artemis the elder raised an eyebrow at his younger self.

‘You can see how this might be awkward,’ he said pointedly.

‘I can indeed,’ conceded the ten-year-old. ‘Why don’t I have a poke around in your… in my study. See what I come up with.’ This is a problem, Artemis realized. My own inquisitiveness. Perhaps I should not have promised not to mind-wipe my younger self. Something will have to be done.

Angeline opened her eyes. They were blue and calm, peering out from tired dark sockets.

‘Artemis,’ she said, her voice the rasp of fingers on tree bark. ‘I dreamed I was flying. And there was a monkey …’ Artemis shook with relief. She was safe; he had saved her.

‘It was a lemur, Mother. Mum.’

Angeline smiled wanly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. ‘Mum. I have waited so long to hear you say that. So long.’ And with that smile on her face Angeline lay back and drifted off into deep natural sleep.

Just as well, Artemis realized. Or she may have noticed the fairies in the bathroom, or the contents of a fat barrel on the rug. Or a second Artemis lurking shiftily by the bookcase.

Butler emerged from the wetroom dripping wet, shirtless, paddle marks scorched into his skin. He was paler than usual, and had to lean against the doorframe for support.

‘Welcome back,’ he said to Artemis the elder. ‘This little one is quite a chip off the old block. Gave me one hell of a jump-start.’ ‘He is the old block,’ said Artemis wryly.

Butler jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Those two didn’t enjoy their dip in the barrel.’ ‘Animal fat is poison to fairies,’ explained Artemis. ‘Blocks the magical flow. Turns their own power rancid.’ A shadow settled on Butler’s brow. ‘Opal made me do it. She… Miss Book approached me at the main gates as I left for the airport. I was trapped in my own skull.’ Artemis laid a gentle hand on his bodyguard’s forearm. ‘I know. No apologies are necessary.’ Butler remembered that he did not have his weapon, and he remembered who did have it. ‘What did you do with Schalke? Knockout dart?’ ‘No. Our paths did not cross.’

Butler staggered to the bedroom door, Artemis hot on his heels. ‘Opal is controlling him, though he’s making her work for it. We need to secure them both right now.’ It took them several minutes to reach the security booth, Butler pulling himself along the walls, and by that time Opal was already gone. Artemis ran to the window just in time to see the blocky rear end of a vintage Mercedes take the bend in the driveway. A small figure bounced on the back seat. Two bounces, the first time it was Opal, the second Miss Imogen Book.

Already her power returns, realized Artemis.

Butler loomed above him, panting.

‘This isn’t over yet,’ he said.

Artemis did not respond to the comment; Butler was simply stating the patently obvious.

Then the engine noise increased in volume and pitch.

‘Gear change,’ said Butler. ‘She’s coming back.’

Artemis felt a chill pass over his heart, though he had been expecting it.

Of course she’s coming back, he thought. She will never have another chance like this one. Butler can barely walk. Holly and Number One will be diminished for hours and I am a mere human. If she retreats now, Jayjay will be free of her forever. Soon Foaly’s squad will arrive from Tara and whisk the little lemur underground. For perhaps five minutes, Opal has the upper hand.

Artemis planned quickly. ‘I need to take Jayjay away from here. So long as he is in the manor, everyone is in danger. Opal will kill us all to cover her tracks.’ Butler nodded, sweat running in rivulets through the lines on his face. ‘Yes. We can make it to the Cessna.’ ‘I can make it to the Cessna, old friend,’ corrected Artemis. ‘I am charging you with the protection of my mother and friends, not to mention keeping my younger self off the Internet. He is as dangerous as Opal.’ It was a sensible tactic and Butler knew it was coming before Artemis said it. He was in such bad shape that he would slow Artemis down. Not only that but the manor would be wide open for any of Opal’s thralls to stroll in and exact her revenge.

‘Very well. Don’t take her over three thousand metres and watch the flaps – they’re a bit sticky.’ Artemis nodded as if he didn’t know. Giving instructions comforted Butler.

‘Three thousand. Flaps. Got it.’ ‘Would you like a gun? I have a neat Beretta.’ Artemis shook his head. ‘No guns. My aim is so bad that even with Holly’s eye to help me I would probably only succeed in shooting off a toe or two. No, all I need is the bait.’ He paused. ‘And my sunglasses.’