The Eternity Code

by Eoin Colfer

“If you wanted to swing a stink worm.”

  “True.” Holly studied the pilot. “You’ve grown a lot in two years. The last time I saw you, you were a little girl.”

  Juliet smiled. “A lot can happen in two years. I spent most of that time wrestling big hairy men.”

  “You should see fairy wrestling. Two pumped-up gnomes going at it in a zero-G chamber. Not a pretty sight. I’ll send you a video disk.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  Holly remembered the mind wipes.

  “You’re right,” she said. “I won’t.”

  In the passenger section of the Lear jet, Mulch was reliving his glory days.

  “Hey, Artemis,” he said through a mouthful of caviar. “Remember the time I nearly blew Butler’s head off with a blast of gas?”

  Artemis did not smile. “I remember, Mulch. You were the wrench in an otherwise perfect works.”

  “To tell you the truth, it was an accident. I was just nervous. I didn’t even realize the big guy was there.”

  “That makes me feel better. Done in by a bowel problem.”

  “And do you remember the time I saved your neck in Koboi Laboratories? If it hadn’t been for me, you’d be locked up in Howler’s Peak right now. Can’t you do anything without me?”

  Artemis sipped mineral water from a crystal flute. “Apparently not, though I live for the day.”

  Holly made her way back through the aisle.

  “We better get you ready, Artemis. We land in thirty minutes.”

  “Good idea.”

  Holly emptied her kit onto the central table.

  “Okay, what do we need for now? The throat mike and an iris camera.”

  The LEP captain selected what looked like a circular adhesive bandage from the pile. She peeled back the adhesive layer and stuck the material to Artemis’s neck. It immediately turned the color of his skin.

  “Memory latex,” explained Holly. “It’s almost invisible. Maybe an ant crawling up your neck might notice it, but apart from that . . . The material is also X-ray proof, so the mike is undetectable. It will pick up whatever is said in a ten-yard radius, and I record it on my helmet chip. Unfortunately, we can’t risk an earpiece. Too visible, so we can hear you, but you won’t be able to hear us.”

  Artemis swallowed, feeling the mike ride on his Adam’s apple.

  “And the camera?”

  “Here we go.”

  Holly removed a contact lense from a jar of fluid.

  “This thing is a marvel. We’ve got high resolution, digital quality, recordable picture with several filter options, including magnification and thermal.”

  Mulch sucked a chicken bone dry. “You’re starting to sound like Foaly.”

  Artemis stared at the lense. “A technological marvel it may be, but it’s hazel.”

  “Of course it’s hazel. My eyes are hazel.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, Holly. But my eyes are blue, as you well know. This iris-cam will not do.”

  “Don’t look at me like that, Mud Boy. You’re the genius.”

  “I can’t go in there with one brown eye and one blue eye. Spiro will notice.”

  “Well you should have thought of that while you were meditating. It’s a little late now.”

  Artemis pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re right, of course. I am the mastermind here. Thinking is my responsibility, not yours.”

  Holly squinted suspiciously. “Was that an insult, Mud Boy?”

  Mulch spat the chicken bone into a nearby bin. “I have to tell you, Arty, a screwup this early in the proceedings doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence. I hope you’re as clever as you keep telling everyone you are.”

  “I never tell anybody exactly how clever I am. They would be too scared. Very well, we will have to risk the hazel iris-cam. With any luck, Spiro might not notice. If he does, I can invent some excuse.”

  Holly placed the camera on the tip of her finger, sliding the lense under Artemis’s lid.

  “It’s your decision, Artemis,” she said. “I just hope you haven’t met your match in Jon Spiro.”

  O’ Hare International Airport

  Spiro was waiting for them at O’ Hare’s private hangar. He wore a fur-collared greatcoat over his trademark white suit. Halogen lamps blasted the tarmac, and the down-draught from the chopper blades snagged his coattails. It was all very cinematic.

  All we need now is background music, thought Artemis, as he descended the motorized steps.

  As instructed, Mulch was putting on the gangster act.

  “Move it, kid,”he snarled, quite convincingly.“We don’t want to keep Mr. Spiro waiting.”

  Artemis was about to respond, when he realized that he was supposed to be the “terrified kid.” It wasn’t going to be easy. Being humble was a real problem for Artemis Fowl.

  “I said, move it!” repeated the dwarf, stressing the point with a firm shove.

  Artemis stumbled the last few steps, almost colliding with a grinning Arno Blunt. This was no ordinary grin. Blunt’s teeth had been replaced by a custom-crafted porcelain set. The tips had been filed to sharp points. The bodyguard looked for all the world like a human–shark hybrid.

  Blunt caught Artemis’s stare. “You like ’em? I got other sets, too. One is all flat. For crushing stuff.”

  A cynical sneer was forming on Artemis’s mouth, before he remembered his role, replacing the sneer with a set of quivering lips. He was basing his performance on the effect Butler usually had on people.

  Spiro was not impressed. “Nice acting, sonny. But pardon me if I doubt the great Artemis Fowl has fallen to pieces quite so easily. Arno, check the plane.”

  Blunt nodded curtly, ducking inside the private jet. Juliet was dressed in a flight attendant’s uniform, straightening the headrest covers. For all her athletic ability, she was finding it difficult not to trip in her high heels.

  “Where’s the pilot?” growled Blunt, living up to his name.

  “Master Artemis flies the plane,” replied Juliet. “He’s been flying it since he was eleven years old.”

  “Oh really? Is that legal?”

  Juliet put on her best innocent face. “I don’t know about legal, sir. I just serve the drinks.”

  Blunt grunted, charming as ever, and had a quick poke about the jet’s interior. Eventually, he decided to accept the flight attendant’s word. Lucky for him, because had he decided to argue, two things would have happened. First, Juliet would have clobbered him with the jade ring. And second, Holly who was lying shielded in an overhead locker, would have blasted him into unconsciousness with her Neutrino 2000. Of course, Holly could simply have mesmerized the bodyguard, but after what he had done to Butler, a blasting seemed more appropriate.

  Blunt stuck his head through the hatch. “No one in there except some dumb attendant.”

  Spiro was not surprised. “I didn’t think so. But they’re here somewhere. Believe it or not, Digence, Artemis Fowl did not get suckered by a goon like you. He’s here because he wants to be here.”

  Artemis was not surprised by this deduction. It was only natural that Spiro be suspicious.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said. “I’m here because this odious little man threatened to crush my skull between his teeth. Why else would I come? The C Cube is useless to you, and I could easily construct another one.”

  Spiro was not even listening. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say, kid. But let me tell you something. You bit off more than you could chew when you agreed to come here. The Spiro Needle has the best security on the planet. We’ve got stuff in there that even the military don’t have. Once those doors close behind you, you’re on your own. Nobody is coming to save you. Nobody. Understand?”

  Artemis nodded. He understood what Spiro was saying to him. That wasn’t to say that he agreed with it. Jon Spiro might have “stuff ” that the military didn’t have, but Artemis Fowl had “stuff ” that humans had never seen.

  A Sikorsky executive helicopter whisk
ed them downtown to the Spiro Needle. They landed on a helipad on the skyscraper’s roof. Artemis was familiar with helicopter controls, and realized how difficult it must be to land in the bluster of the Windy City.

  “The wind speed must be treacherous at this altitude,” he said casually. Holly could record the information on her helmet chip.

  “You’re telling me,” shouted the pilot over the rotors’ din. “It gets to over sixty miles an hour on top of the Needle. The helipad can sway up to thirty feet in rough conditions.”

  Spiro groaned, giving Blunt a nod. Arno reached forward and whacked the pilot’s helmet.

  “Shut up, you moron!” snapped Spiro. “Why don’t you give him the blueprints to the building while you’re at it?” He turned to Artemis. “And in case you’re wondering, Arty, there aren’t any blueprints floating around. Anybody who goes looking in City Hall is going to find that file mysteriously missing. I have the only set, so don’t bother getting one of your associates to do an Internet search.”

  No surprises there. Artemis had already run several searches himself, although he hadn’t really expected Spiro to be so careless anyway.

  They climbed down from the Sikorsky. Artemis was careful to point the iris-cam at any security feature that could be useful later. Butler had often told him that even a seemingly insignificant detail, like the number of steps in a stairwell, could be vital when planning an operation.

  An elevator brought them down from the helipad to a key-coded door. Closed-circuit cameras were strategically placed to cover the entire rooftop. Spiro moved ahead to the keypad. Artemis felt a sharp sting in his eye, and suddenly the iris-cam magnified his vision by four. In spite of the distance and shadows, he could easily discern the entry code.

  “I hope you got that,” he muttered, feeling the mike vibrating on his throat.

  Arno Blunt bent his knees, so his extraordinary teeth were an inch from Artemis’s nose.

  “Are you talking to someone?”

  “Me?” said Artemis. “Who would I be talking to? We’re eighty floors up, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  Blunt grabbed the teenager by the lapels, hoisting him off the tarmac. “Maybe you’re wearing a wire. Maybe you have someone listening to us right now.”

  “How could I be wearing a wire, you big oaf? Your miniature hit man hasn’t let me out of his sight for the entire journey. He even accompanied me to the bathroom.”

  Spiro cleared his throat noisily. “Hey there, Mr. I-Gotta-Make-My-Point, that kid slips over the side and you might as well throw yourself off, because that boy is worth more to me than an army of bodyguards.”

  Blunt set Artemis down.

  “You’re not going to be valuable forever, Fowl,” he whispered ominously. “And when your stock falls, I’ll be waiting.”

  * * *

  They took a mirrored elevator to the eighty-fifth floor, where Dr. Pearson waited along with two more muscle-bound guards. Artemis could tell by the look in their eyes that these two weren’t exactly brain surgeons. In fact, they were as close as you could get to being Rottweilers and still balance on two legs. It was probably handy to have these two around to break things and not ask questions.

  Spiro called one of them over.

  “Pex, do you know what the Antonellis charge if you lose their personnel?”

  Pex had to consider it for a moment. His lips moved as he thought.

  “Yeah, wait, I got it. Twenty grand for a metal man and fifteen for a monkey.”

  “That’s dead, right?”

  “Dead or incapati . . . incatacip . . . broken.”

  “Okay,” said Spiro. “I want you and Chips to go over to Carla Frazetti’s and tell her I owe her thirty-five grand for the team. I’ll wire it to her Cayman Islands account in the morning.”

  Mulch was understandably curious, and not a little apprehensive.

  “Excuse me? Thirty-five grand? But I’m still alive. You only owe twenty grand for Loafers, unless the extra fifteen K is my bonus?”

  Spiro sighed with almost convincing regret.

  “This is the way it is, Mo,” he said, punching Mulch playfully on the shoulder. “This deal is huge. Mammoth. We’re talking telephone numbers. I can’t afford any loose ends. Maybe you know something, maybe you don’t. But I’m not about to take the chance that you might tip off Phonetix or one of my other competitors. I’m sure you understand.”

  Mulch stretched his lips, revealing a row of tombstone teeth.

  “I understand all right, Spiro. You’re a backstabbing snake. You know, the kid offered me two million dollars to cut him loose.”

  “You should have taken the cash,” said Arno Blunt, propelling Mulch into Pex’s gigantic arms.

  The dwarf kept talking, even as he was being dragged down the corridor.

  “You better bury me deep, Spiro. You better bury me real deep.”

  Spiro’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You heard the man, boys. Before you go to Frazetti’s, bury him deep.”

  Dr. Pearson led the party through to the vault room. They had to pass through a small antechamber before entering the main security area.

  “Please stand on the scanner pad,” said Pearson. “We wouldn’t want any bugs in here. Especially not the electronic kind.”

  Artemis stepped onto the mat. It sank like a sponge beneath his feet, spurting jets of foam over his shoes.

  “Anti-infection foam,” explained Pearson. “Kills any virus you might have picked up. We’re keeping some biotechnology experiments in the vault at the moment. Very susceptible to disease. The foam has the added advantage of shorting out any surveillance devices in your shoes.”

  Overhead, a mobile scanner bathed Artemis’s shoes framed in purple light.

  “One of my own inventions,” said Pearson. “A combination scanner. I have incorporated thermal, X-ray, and metal-detector beams. The beam basically breaks your body down into its elements and displays them on this screen here.”

  Artemis saw a 3-D replica of himself being traced out on the small plasma screen. He held his breath, praying that Foaly’s equipment was as clever as the centaur thought it was.

  On screen, a red light pulsed on Artemis’s jacket front.

  “Aha,” said Dr. Pearson, plucking off a button. “What have we here?” He cracked the button open, revealing a tiny chip, mike, and power source.

  “Very clever. A micro bug. Our young friend was attempting to spy on us, Mr. Spiro.”

  Jon Spiro was not angry, in fact he was delighted to have the opportunity to gloat.

  “You see, kid. You may be some kind of genius, but surveillance and espionage are my business. You can’t slip anything past me. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner we can get this thing over with.”

  Artemis stepped off the pad. The decoy had worked, but the real bugs hadn’t caused a blip in the system. Pearson was smart, but Foaly was smarter.

  Artemis made sure to have a good look around the antechamber. There was more here. Every square inch of the metal surface contained a security or surveillance device. From what Artemis could see, an invisible ant would have trouble sneaking in here. Not to mention two humans, an elf, and a dwarf. Providing the dwarf had survived Pex and Chips.

  The vault door itself was impressive. Most corporate vaults looked impressive, plenty of chrome and keypads, but that was just to make an impression on stockholders. In Spiro’s vault there wasn’t a tumbler out of place. Artemis spotted the very latest computer lock on the face of titanium double doors. Spiro keyed in another complicated series of numbers, and the meter-thick doors slid back to reveal another barrier. The secondary door.

  “Imagine you were a thief,” said Spiro, as if he were an actor introducing a play. “And you somehow get into the building, past the electronic eyes and the locked doors. Then, imagine you somehow cheat the sensor pad and open the first vault door, an impossible feat by the way. And while we’re imagining all this, let’s pretend you disable the half dozen cameras, and even then, e
ven after all that, would you be able to do this?”

  Spiro stood on a small red plate painted on the floor in front of the door. He placed a thumb on a gel-print scanner, held his left eyelid open, and enunciated clearly.

  “Jon Spiro. I am the boss, so open up quick.”

  Four things happened. A retinal scanner filmed his left eye and fed the image into the computer. A print plate scanned his right thumb, and a vocal analyzer scrutinized Spiro’s accent, timbre, and intonation. Once the computer had verified all this information, the alarms were deactivated and the secondary door slid open, revealing an expansive vault.

  In the very center, in the middle of a custom-made steel column, rested the C Cube. It was encased in a Plexiglas box with at least six cameras focused on its various planes. Two burly guards stood back-to-back, forming a human barrier in front of the fairy technology.

  Spiro could not resist a gibe. “Unlike you,” he said. “I look after my technology. This is the only vault of its kind in the world.”

  “Live security in an airtight room. Interesting.”

  “These guys are trained at high altitude. Also, we change the guards on the hour, and they all carry oxygen cylinders to keep them going. What did you think? I was going to put air vents into a vault?”

  Artemis scowled. “No need to show off, Spiro. I’m here, you win. So can we get on with it?”

  Spiro punched a final number sequence into the column’s keypad and the Plexiglas panes retracted. He took the Cube from its foam nest.

  “Overkill, don’t you think?” commented Artemis. “All of this is hardly necessary.”

  “You never know. Some crooked businessman could attempt to relieve me of my prize.”

  Artemis took a chance on some calculated sarcasm. “Really, Spiro. Did you think I would attempt a break-in? Perhaps you thought I would fly in here with my fairy friends and magic your box away?”

  Spiro laughed. “You can bring all the fairy friends you like, Arty-boy. Short of a miracle that Cube is staying right where it is.”

  Juliet was an American citizen by birth, even though her brother had been born on the other side of the world. She was glad to be back in her home country. The discord of Chicago’s traffic and the constant chorus of multicultural voices made her feel at home. She loved the skyscrapers and the steam vents and the affectionate sarcasm of the street vendors. If she ever got the chance to settle down, it would be in the U.S. On the West Coast though, somewhere with sun.