by Eoin Colfer
Holly snatched the medallion, holding it up for the camera.
“Just a gold coin, Commander. I gave it to Artemis myself.”
Foaly glanced at the small medal. “Actually, this kills two stink worms with one skewer. The medallion could have triggered some residual memories. Highly unlikely, but possible.”
“And the other stink worm?”
“Mulch gets something to look at in prison.”
Root mulled it over for several moments.
“Okay. He can keep it. Now get that convict into the shuttle, and let’s get on with this. I’ve got a Council meeting in ten minutes.”
Holly led Mulch out, and Artemis realized that he really was sorry to see the dwarf go. But more than that, he was sorry that the memory of their friendship could soon be gone forever.
The technicians descended like flies on a carcass. In seconds every human in the room had electrodes attached to temples and wrists. Each set of electrodes ran through a neural transformer and onto a plasma screen. Memories flickered on the screens.
Foaly studied the images. “Way too early,” he announced. “Calibrate them to sixteen months ago. Actually, make that about three years. I don’t want Artemis planning his initial kidnap all over again.”
“Bravo, Foaly,” said Artemis bitterly. “I was hoping you might miss that.”
The centaur winked. “That’s not all I didn’t miss.”
On the pull-down screen, Root’s pixelated mouth stretched into a smile. “Tell him, Foaly. I can’t wait to see the human’s face.”
Foaly consulted a file on his handheld computer. “We checked your e-mail, and guess what?”
“Do tell.”
“We found a fairy file, just waiting to be delivered. We also ran a search on the Internet in general. And lo and behold, someone with your e-mail address had rented some storage megabytes. More fairy files.”
Artemis was unrepentant. “I had to try. I’m sure you understand.”
“Nothing else you want to tell us about?”
Artemis opened his eyes wide, the epitome of innocence. “Nothing. You’re too clever for me.”
Foaly took a small laser disk from a toolbox, sliding it into the drive of a networked computer on the table. “Well, just in case, I’m going to detonate a data charge in your computer system. The virus will leave your files unharmed, unless they pertain to the People. Not only that, but the virus will monitor your system for a further six months, just in case you have outwitted us somehow.”
“And you’re telling me all this because I won’t remember it anyway.”
Foaly did a little four-step, clapping his hands together. “Exactly.”
Holly pushed through the door, dragging a metallic capsule behind her.
“Look what they found buried in the grounds.” She flipped the lid, pouring the capsule’s contents on the Tunisian carpet. Several computer disks and hard copies of Artemis’s diary fanned across the carpet.
Foaly examined a disk. “Something else you forgot to mention.”
Artemis was not quite so cocky now. His lifelines to the past were being cut one by one.
“It slipped my mind.”
“That’s it, I suppose. There’s nothing else.”
Artemis returned to his chair, folding his arms. “And if I say yes, you’ll believe me, I suppose.”
Root laughed so hard that it seemed the screen was shaking.
“Oh yes, Artemis. We trust you completely. How could we not after all you’ve put the People through? If you don’t mind we’d like to ask you a few questions under the mesmer, and this time you won’t be wearing sunglasses.”
Sixteen months previously, Artemis had successfully deflected Holly’s hypnotic gaze with mirrored sunglasses. It was the first time he had outwitted the fairies. It was not to be the last.
“Well, then, let’s get on with it.”
“Captain Short,” barked Root. “You know what to do.”
Holly removed her helmet, massaging the tips of her ears to get the circulation going.
“I’m going to mesmerize you and ask a few questions. It’s not the first time you’ve been under, so you know that the procedure is not painful. I advise you to relax. If you try to resist, it could cause memory loss or even brain damage.”
Artemis held up his palm. “Wait a moment. Am I right in thinking that when I wake up again, this will all be over?”
Holly smiled. “Yes, Artemis. This is good-bye, for the last time.”
Artemis’s face was composed, in spite of the emotions churning inside him.
“Well, then, I have a few things to say.”
Root was curious in spite of himself. “One minute, Fowl. Then nighty-night.”
“Very well. First, thank you. I have my family and friends around me thanks to the People. I wish I didn’t have to forget that.”
Holly laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s better this way, Artemis. Believe me.”
“And second, I want you all to think back to the first time you met me. Remember that night?”
Holly shuddered. She remembered the cold individual who had attacked her by a magical hotspot in Southern Ireland. Commander Root would never forget escaping an exploding tanker by the skin of his wings, and Foaly’s first encounter with Artemis had been via a recording of the negotiations for Holly’s release. He had been a despicable creature.
“If you take away the memories and influences of the People,” continued Artemis, “I might become that person again. Is that what you really want?”
It was a chilling thought. Were the People responsible for Artemis’s transformation? And were they to be responsible for changing him back?
Holly turned to the screen. “Is it possible? Artemis has come a long way. Do we have the right to destroy all that progress?”
“He’s right,” added Foaly. “I never thought I would say this, but I kinda like the new model.”
Root opened another computer window on the screen. “The Psych Brotherhood did this probability report for us. They say the chances of a reversion are slim. Fowl will still have strong positive influences from his family and the Butlers.”
“The Psych Brotherhood?” objected Holly. “Argon and his cronies? And when exactly did we start trusting those witch doctors?”
Root opened his mouth to yell, but thought better of it—not something that happened every day.
“Holly,” he said, almost gently. “The future of our culture is at stake here. The bottom line is that Artemis’s future is not our problem.”
Holly’s mouth was a grim slash. “If that’s true, then we’re as bad as the Mud Men.”
The commander decided to revert to his usual mode of communication.
“Listen to me, Captain,” he roared. “Being in command means making tough decisions. Not being in command means shutting up and doing what you’re told. Now mesmerize those humans before we lose the link.”
“Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.”
Holly stood directly in front of Artemis, careful to make eye contact.
“Good-bye, Holly. I won’t see you again, though I’m sure you will see me.”
“Just relax, Artemis. Deep breaths.”
When Holly spoke again, her voice was layered with bass and alto. The hypnotic layers of the mesmer.
“That was some job we did on Spiro, eh?”
Artemis smiled sleepily. “Yes. The last adventure. No more hurting people.”
“How do you come up with these plans?”
Artemis’s lids drooped. “Natural ability, I suppose. Handed down by generations of Fowls.”
“I bet you would do anything to hang onto your fairy memories.”
“Almost anything.”
“So what did you do?”
Artemis smiled. “I played a few little tricks.”
“What kind of tricks?” pressed Holly.
“It’s a secret. I can’t tell you.”
Holly added a few more layers to her voice
.
“Tell me, Artemis. It will be our secret.”
A vein pulsed in Artemis’s temple. “You won’t tell? You won’t tell the fairies?”
Holly glanced guiltily at the screen. Root gestured at her to continue.
“I won’t tell. It will be just between us.”
“Butler hid a capsule in the maze.”
“And?”
“I sent myself an e-mail. But I expect Foaly to find that. It’s to throw him off guard.”
“Very clever. Is there anything you don’t expect him to find?”
Artemis smiled craftily. “Butler buried a capsule in the grounds, and I hid a file on an Internet storage site. Foaly’s data charge won’t affect it. The provider will mail me a reminder in six months. When I retrieve the data, it should trigger residual memories and possibly total recall.”
“Anything else?”
“No. The storage site is our last hope. If the centaur finds that, then the fairy world is lost to me forever.”
Root’s image crackled on the screen. “Okay. The uplink is breaking up. Knock them out and wipe them. Tape the whole process. I won’t believe Artemis is out of the game until I see the footage.”
“Commander. Maybe I should ask the others a few questions.”
“Negative, Captain. Fowl said it himself. The storage site was their last hope. Hook them up and run the program.”
The Commander’s image disappeared in waves of static.
“Yes, sir.” Holly turned to the technical crew. “You heard the fairy. Let’s go. Sunup is in a couple of hours. I want us belowground before that.”
The techies checked that the electrodes had strong contacts, then unwrapped three sets of sleep goggles.
“I’ll do that,” said Holly, taking the masks.
She hooked the elastic over Juliet’s ponytail. “You know something?” she said. “Personal protection is a cold business. You have too much heart for it.”
Juliet nodded slowly. “I’ll try to hold on to that thought.”
Holly settled the eyepieces gently.
“I’ll keep an eye on you.”
Juliet smiled. “See you in my dreams.”
Holly pressed a small button on the sleep mask, and a combination of hypno-lights in the eyepieces and a sedative administered through the seals knocked Juliet out in less than five seconds.
Butler was next. The technical crew had added a length of elastic to the mask’s strap, so that it could encircle his shaven crown.
“Make sure Foaly doesn’t go crazy with that mind wiper,” said the bodyguard. “I don’t want to wake up with four decades of nothing in my head.”
“Don’t worry,” said Holly reassuringly. “Foaly generally knows what he’s doing.”
“Good. Remember, if the People ever do need help. I’m available.”
Holly pressed the button.
“I’ll remember that,” she whispered.
Artemis was last in the line. In his mesmerized state, he seemed almost peaceful. For once there were no thought lines wrinkling his brow, and if Holly hadn’t known him, he could almost seem like a normal thirteen-year-old human.
Holly turned to Foaly. “Are you sure about this?”
The centaur shrugged. “What choice do we have? Orders are orders.”
Holly placed the mask over Artemis’s eyes and pushed the button. Seconds later the teenager slumped in his chair. Immediately, lines of Gnommish text began to flash across the screen behind him. In the days of Frond, Gnommish had been written in spirals. But reading in spirals gave most fairies migraines.
“Commence deleting,” ordered Foaly. “But keep a copy. Sometime when I have a few weeks off I’m going to find out what makes this guy tick.”
Holly watched Artemis’s life being written in green symbols on the screen.
“This doesn’t feel right,” she commented. “If he found us once, he could find us again. Especially if he goes back to being the monster he was.”
Foaly tapped commands into an ergodynamic keyboard. “Maybe. But next time we’ll be ready.”
Holly sighed. “It’s a pity, because we were almost friends.”
The centaur snorted. “Sure. Like you can be friends with a viper.”
Holly suddenly shut her helmet visor, hiding her eyes.
“You’re right, of course. We could never have been friends. It was circumstance that pushed us together, nothing more.”
Foaly patted her shoulder. “That’s the girl. Keep your ears up. Where are you going?”
“Tara,” replied Holly. “I’m going to fly. I need the fresh air.”
“You don’t have clearance for a flight,” objected Foaly. “Root will have your badge.”
“For what?” said Holly, firing up her wings. “I’m not supposed to be here, remember?”
And she was gone, flying in a lazy loop through the entrance hall. She cleared the main door with inches to spare, climbing quickly into the night sky. For a second her slim frame was backlit by the full moon, and then she disappeared, vibrating out of the visible spectrum.
Foaly watched her go. Emotional creatures, elves. In some respects they made the worst Recon operatives. All decisions were made from the heart. But Root would never fire Holly, because policing was what she was born to do. And anyway, who else would save the People if Artemis Fowl ever found them again?
Mulch sat in the shuttle’s holding booth feeling extremely sorry for himself. He tried to sit on the bench without actually touching it with his tender behind. Not an easy task.
Things did not look good, it had to be said. Even after all he’d done for the LEP, they were going to lock him up for at least a decade. Just for stealing a few measly bars of gold. And it didn’t seem likely that he’d get an opportunity to escape. He was surrounded by steel and laser bars, and would remain so until the shuttle docked in Haven. After that, it was a quick jaunt to Police Plaza, a summary hearing and off to a secure facility until his beard turned gray. Which it would, if he was forced to spend more than five years out of the tunnels.
But there was hope. A tiny glimmer. Mulch forced himself to wait until all the technical staff had cleared their equipment from the shuttle, then he casually opened his right hand, rubbing his temples with thumb and forefinger. What he was actually doing was reading the tiny note concealed in his palm. The one slipped to him by Artemis Fowl when they shook hands.
I have not finished with you yet, Mulch Diggums.
On your return, tell your lawyer to check the date on the original search warrant for your cave. When you are released keep your nose clean for a couple of years. Then bring the medallion to me. Together we will be unstoppable.
Your friend and benefactor,
Artemis Fowl II
Mulch crumpled the note. He made a cylinder of his fingers, and sucked the paper into his mouth. His dwarf molars quickly destroyed the evidence.
Mulch breathed deeply through his nose. It wasn’t time to pop the Skaylian rock-worm wine cork just yet. A review of his case could take months, possibly years. But there was hope.
The dwarf wrapped his fingers around Artemis’s medallion. Together they would be unstoppable.
Artemis Fowl’s diary, disk 1 (encrypted)
I have decided to keep a diary. In fact, I am surprised that the idea has never occurred to me before. An intellect such as mine should be documented, so that future generations of Fowls can take advantage of my brilliant ideas.
Of course, I must be careful with such a document. As valuable as it would be to my descendants, it would be more valuable to the law enforcement agents who are forever trying to gather evidence against me.
It is even more important that I keep this journal a secret from my father. He is not himself since his escape from Russia. He has become obsessed with nobility and heroism. Abstract concepts at best. As far as I know, nobility and heroism are not accepted by any of the world’s major banks. The family’s fortune is in my hands, and I will preserve it in the
way I always have, through ingenious plots. Most of these plots will be illegal. The best always are. Real profit lies in the shadowy areas beyond the law.
I have decided however, out of respect for my parents’ values, to change my criteria for victim selection. It would seem better for the world’s ecology if several global corporations went bankrupt, and so I have resolved to help them on their way. Not victimless crimes, but ones where few tears will be shed for the injured parties. This does not mean that I have become a weak, latter-day Robin Hood—far from it. I intend to reap substantial benefits from my crimes.
My father is not the only one to have changed. Butler has grown old almost overnight. His appearance is the same as ever, but he has slowed down considerably, no matter how he tries to hide it. But I will not replace him. He has been a loyal employee and his expertise in matters of intelligence will be invaluable. Perhaps Juliet will accompany me when actual protection is needed, though she now claims that a life in personal protection is not for her. Next week she travels to the United States to try out for a wrestling team. Apparently she has chosen Jade Princess as her stage name. I can only hope that she fails the audition. Though I doubt it. She is a Butler, after all.
Of course I have some ongoing ventures which I can work on without the aid of a bodyguard. In recent years I have developed software to divert funds from various bank accounts to my own. This software will have to be upgraded to stay ahead of the computer-crime squads. Version 2.0 should be online within six months. Then there is my talent for art forgery. In the past I have favored the Impressionists, but now for some reason I am drawn to more fantastical subject matter, such as the fairy creatures depicted by Arthur Rackham. But these projects must be suspended temporarily, for today I discovered that I am the victim of a conspiracy.
The day began strangely. When I awoke, I experienced an instant of weakness. For a single moment before I opened my eyes I felt content, my drive to accumulate wealth forgotten. This has never happened before. Perhaps the mood was left over from some magical dream, or perhaps my father’s newfound positive attitude is contagious. Whatever the cause, I must be careful to avoid such lapses in the future. With my father in his current frame of mind, this is no time to lose my resolve. I must remain as driven as always. Crime is the way forward for the Fowls. Aurum Est Potestas.
