Artemis Fowl. The Opal Deception af-4

by Eoin Colfer

  ‘Yep,’ agreed Scant. ‘No way out of that one.’

  Opal cleared her throat. ‘Firstly, yep is not a word, and I will not be spoken to in slang. New rule. Secondly, I assumed that Artemis Fowl was dead once before, and I spent a year in a coma as a result. We must proceed as though Fowl and Short have survived and are on our trail.’

  ‘With respect, Miss Koboi,’ said Merv, directing the words at his own toes, ‘this is a stealth shuttle. We didn’t leave a trail.’

  ‘Moron,’ said Opal casually. ‘Our trail is on every television screen above ground, and doubtless below it. Even if Artemis Fowl were not a genius, he would guess that I am behind the Zito probe. We need to plant the final charge now. How deep is the probe?’

  Scant consulted a computer readout. ‘Eighty-eight point two miles. We have another ninety minutes to go to the optimum blast point.’

  Opal paced the deck for a few moments. ‘We have not picked up any communication with Police Plaza, so if they are alive, they are alone. Best not to risk it.

  We will plant the charge now and guard it. Descant, check the casings again. Mervall, run a systems check on the shuttle — I don’t want a single ion escaping through the hull.’

  The pixie twins stepped backwards, bowing as they went. They would do as they were told, but surely the boss was being a bit paranoid.

  ‘I heard that thought,’ screeched Opal. ‘I am not paranoid!’

  Merv stepped behind a steel partition to shield his brainwaves. Had Miss Koboi really intercepted the thought? Or was it just the paranoia again? After all, paranoid people usually believe that everyone thinks they are paranoid. Merv poked his head out from behind the partition and beamed a thought at Opal, just to be sure.

  Holly Short is prettier than you, he thought, as loudly as he could. A treasonous thought to be sure, one Opal could hardly fail to pick up on if she could indeed read minds.

  Opal stared at him. ‘Mervall?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Koboi?’

  ‘You’re looking directly at me. That’s very bad for my skin.’

  ‘Sorry, Miss Koboi,’ said Merv, averting his eyes, which happened to glance through the cockpit windscreen, towards the mouth of the chute. He was just in time to see an LEP shuttle rise through the holographic rock outcrop that covered the shuttle-bay door. ‘Erm, Miss Koboi, we have a problem.’ He pointed out through the windscreen.

  The shuttle had risen to ten metres and was hovering above the Italian landscape, obviously searching for something.

  ‘They’ve found us,’ said Opal in a horrified whisper. Then she quelled her panic and quickly analysed the situation. ‘That is a transport shuttle, not a pursuit vehicle,’ she noted, walking quickly into the cockpit, closely followed by the twins. ‘We must assume that Artemis Fowl and Captain Short are aboard. They have no weapons and basic scanners. In this poor light, we are virtually invisible to the naked eye. They are blind.’

  ‘Should we blast them from the skies?’ asked the younger Brill brother eagerly. At last, some of the aggression he had been promised.

  ‘No,’ replied Opal. ‘A plasma burst would give away our position to human and fairy police satellites. We go silent. Turn off everything. Even life support. I don’t know how they got this close, but the only way they’re going to discover our exact location is to run into us. And if that happens, their sad little shuttle will crumple like cardboard.’

  The Brills obeyed promptly, switching off all the shuttle’s systems.

  ‘Good,’ whispered Opal, placing a slim finger over her lips. They watched the shuttle for several minutes, until Opal decided to break the silence.

  ‘Whoever is passing wind, please stop it, or I will devise a fitting punishment.’

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ mouthed the Brill brothers simultaneously. Neither was anxious to find out what the fitting punishment for passing wind was.

  E7, TEN MINUTES EARLIER

  Holly eased the LEP shuttle through a particularly tricky secondary shaft and into E7. Almost immediately, two red lights began pulsing on the console.

  ‘The clock is ticking,’ she announced. ‘We just triggered two of Foaly’s sensors.

  They’re going to put the shuttle together with the probe and come running.’

  ‘How long?’ asked Artemis.

  Holly calculated in her head. ‘If they come supersonic in the attack shuttle, less than half an hour.’

  ‘Perfect,’ said Artemis, pleased.

  ‘I’m glad you think so,’ moaned Mulch. ‘Supersonic LEP officers are never a welcome sight among burglars. As a general rule, we prefer our police officers subsonic.’

  Holly clamped the shuttle to a rocky outcrop on the chute wall. ‘Are you backing out, Mulch? Or is this just the usual moaning?’

  The dwarf rotated his jaws, warming them up for the work ahead. ‘I think I’m entitled to a little moan. Why do these plans always involve me putting myself in harm’s way while you three get to wait it out in the shuttle?’

  Artemis handed him a cooler sack from the galley. ‘Because you are the only one who can do this, Mulch. You alone can foil Koboi’s plan.’

  Mulch was not impressed. ‘I’m not impressed,’ he said.

  ‘I better get a medal for this. Real gold too. No more gold-plated computer disks.’

  Holly hustled him to the starboard hatch. ‘Mulch, if they don’t lock me in prison for the rest of my life, I will start the campaign to give you the biggest medal in the LEP cabinet.’

  ‘And amnesty for any past and future crimes?’

  Holly opened the hatch. ‘Past, maybe. Future, not a chance. But no guarantees.

  I’m not exactly flavour of the month at Police Plaza.’

  Mulch tucked the sack inside his shirt. ‘OK. Possible big medal and probable amnesty. I’ll take it.’ He put one foot outside on to the flat surface of the rock. Tunnel wind sucked at his leg, threatening to tumble him into the abyss. ‘We meet back here in twenty minutes.’

  Artemis handed the dwarf a small walkie-talkie from the LEP locker. ‘Remember the plan,’ Artemis shouted over the roar of the wind. ‘Don’t forget to leave the communicator. Only steal what you are supposed to. Nothing else.’

  ‘Nothing else,’ echoed Mulch, looking none too pleased. After all, who knew what valuables Opal might have lying about up there. ‘Unless something really jumps out at me.’

  ‘Nothing,’ insisted Artemis. ‘Now, are you sure you can get in?’

  Mulch’s grin revealed rows of rectangular teeth. ‘I can get in. You just make sure their power is off and they’re looking the other way.’

  Butler hefted the bag of tricks he had brought with him from Fowl Manor. ‘Don’t worry, Mulch. They’ll be looking the other way. I guarantee it.’

  POLICE PLAZA, THE LOWER ELEMENTS

  All the brass were in the operations room, watching live television updates on the probe’s progress when Foaly burst in.

  ‘We need to talk,’ blurted the centaur to the general assembly.

  ‘Quiet,’ hissed Council Chairman Cahartez. ‘Have a bowl of curry.’

  Chairman Cahartez ran a fleet of curry vans in Haven City. Vole curry was his speciality. Obviously, he was doing the catering for this little viewing session.

  Foaly ignored the buffet table. He snatched a remote control from a chair armrest, muting the master volume.

  ‘We have big trouble, ladies and gentlemen. Opal Koboi is loose and I think she’s behind the Zito probe.’

  A high-backed swivel chair swung round. Ark Sool was lounging in it.

  ‘Opal Koboi? Amazing. And she’s doing all this psychically, I suppose.’

  ‘No. What are you doing in that chair? That’s the commander’s chair. The real commander, not Internal Affairs.’

  Sool tapped the golden acorns on his lapel. ‘I’ve been promoted.’

  Foaly blanched. ‘You’re the new Recon commander.’

  Sool’s smile could have illuminated a dark room. ‘Yes. The Council
felt that Recon has been getting a bit out of hand lately. They felt — and I must say I agree — that Recon needs a firm hand. Of course, I will stay on at Internal Affairs until a suitable replacement can be found.’

  Foaly scowled. There was no time for this. Not now. He had to get clearance for a supersonic launch immediately.

  ‘OK, Sool, Commander. I can lodge my objection later. Right now we have an emergency on our hands.’

  Everyone was listening now. But none with much enthusiasm except Wing Commander Vinyaya, who had always been a staunch supporter of Julius Root and would certainly have not voted for Sool. Vinyaya was all ears. ‘What’s the emergency, Foaly?’ she asked.

  Foaly slipped a computer disk into the room’s multi-drive. ‘That thing in the

  Argon Clinic is not Opal Koboi, it’s a clone.’

  ‘Evidence?’ demanded Sool.

  Foaly highlighted a window on the screen. ‘I scanned her retinas and found that the last image the clone saw was Opal Koboi herself. Obviously during her escape.’

  Sool was not convinced. ‘I’ve never trusted your gadgets, Foaly. Your Retimager is not accepted as actual evidence in a courtroom.’

  ‘We’re not in a courtroom, Sool,’ said Foaly through clenched teeth. ‘If we accept that Opal could be loose, then the events of the past twenty-four hours take on a whole new significance. A pattern begins to emerge. Scalene is dead, pixies are missing from the clinic, Julius is murdered and Holly blamed. Then, within hours of this, a probe is sent down, decades ahead of schedule. Koboi is behind all of this. That probe is on its way here and we’re sitting around watching it on PPTV… Eating stinking vole curry!’

  ‘I object to the disparaging curry remark,’ said Cahartez, wounded. ‘But otherwise I take your point.’

  Sool jumped from his chair. ‘What point? Foaly is joining dots that don’t exist. All he is trying to do is exonerate his late friend, Captain Short,’

  ‘Holly may be alive!’ snapped Foaly. ‘And trying to do something about Opal Koboi.’

  Sool rolled his eyes. ‘But her vitals flatlined, centaur. We remote-destroyed her helmet. I was there, remember.’

  A head poked into the room, one of Foaly’s lab apprentices.

  ‘I got that case, sir,’ he panted. ‘Quick as I could.’

  ‘Well done, Roob,’ said Foaly, snatching the case from the apprentice’s hand. He spun the case around. ‘I issued Holly and Julius with new suits. Prototypes. They both have bio-sensors and trackers. They are not linked with the LEP mainframe. I never thought to check them earlier. Holly’s helmet may be out of action, but her suit is still functioning.’

  ‘What do the suit’s sensors tell us, Foaly?’ asked Vinyaya.

  Foaly was almost afraid to look. If the suit sensors were flatlining, it would be like losing Holly again. He counted to three, then consulted the small screen in the case.

  There were two readouts on the screen. One was flat. Julius. But the other was active in all areas.

  ‘Holly is alive!’ shouted the centaur, kissing Commander Vinyaya soundly on the cheek. ‘Alive and reasonably well, apart from elevated blood pressure and next to zero magic in her tank.’

  ‘And where is she?’ asked Vinyaya, smiling.

  Foaly enlarged the locator section of the screen. ‘On her way up E7, in the shuttle that was stolen by Mulch Diggums, if I’m not much mistaken.’

  Sool was delighted. ‘Let me get this straight. Murder suspect Holly Short is in a stolen chute next to the Zito probe.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘That would make her the prime suspect in any irregularities concerning the probe.’

  Foaly was very tempted to actually trample Sool, but he held his temper in check for Holly’s sake. ‘All I’m asking, Sool, is that you give me a green light to send the supersonic shuttle to investigate. If I’m right, then your first act as Commander will be to avert a calamity.’

  ‘And if you’re wrong? Which you probably are.’

  ‘If I’m wrong, then you get to bring in public enemy number one, Captain Holly Short.’

  Sool stroked his goatee. It was a win — win situation. ‘Very well. Send the shuttle. How long will it take to prep?’

  Foaly pulled a phone from his pocket, hitting a number on the speed-dial.

  ‘Major Kelp,’ he said into the mouthpiece. ‘Green light. Go.’ Foaly smiled at Ark Sool. ‘I briefed Major Kelp on my way over. I felt sure you’d see it my way. Commanders generally do.’

  Sool scowled. ‘Don’t get familiar with me, pony boy. This is not the start of a beautiful relationship. I’m sending the shuttle because it is the only option. If you are somehow manipulating me, or bending the truth, I will bury you in tribunal hearings for the next five years. Then I will fire you.’

  Foaly ignored him. There would be plenty of time for trading threats later. Right now he needed to concentrate on the shuttle’s progress. He had gone through the shock of Holly’s death once before and he did not intend to go through it again.

  E7

  Mulch Dipgums could have been an athlete. He had the jaws and recycling equipment for sprint digging, or even cross country. Plenty of natural ability, but no dedication. He tried it for a couple of months in college, but the strict regime of training and diet did not suit him.

  Mulch could still remember his college tunnelling coach giving him a pep talk after training one night. ‘You got the jaws, Diggums,’ the old dwarf admitted, ‘and you sure got the behind. I ain’t never seen no one who could pump out the bubbles like you do. But you ain’t got the heart, and that’s what’s important.’

  Maybe the old dwarf was right. Mulch never did have the heart for selfless activity. Tunnelling was a lonely job, and there wasn’t much money in it either. And because it was an ethnic sport, the TV networks were not interested. No advertising meant no big pay deals for the athletes. Mulch decided his digging prowess could more profitably be utilized on the shady side of the law. Maybe if he had some gold, then female dwarfs would be more likely to return his calls.

  And now here he was, breaking all his rules, preparing to break into a craft that was bristling with fairy sensors and occupied by armed hostiles. Just to help someone else. Of all the vehicles on the planet or under it, Artemis just had to get into the most technologically advanced shuttle in existence. Every square centimetre of the stealth shuttle’s plating would be alarmed with lasers, motion sensors, static sheets and who knew what else. Still, alarms were no good if they weren’t activated, and that was what Mulch was counting on.

  Mulch waved goodbye in the general direction of the shuttle, just in case anyone was still watching him, and traversed the rocky outcrop to the safety of the chute wall.

  Dwarfs do not like heights, and being technically below sea level was not helping his vertigo.

  The dwarf sank his fingers into a vein of soft clay sprouting through the rock wall.

  Home. Anywhere on earth was home to a dwarf, as long as there was clay. Mulch felt calm settle over him. He was safe now — for the time being at any rate.

  The dwarf unhinged his jaw with twin cracks! that would make any other sentient species wince. He popped the snaps on his bum-flap and launched himself into the clay.

  His gnashing teeth scooped bucketfuls of clay from the chute wall, creating an instant tunnel. Mulch crawled into the space, sealing the cavity behind him with recycled clay from his rear end.

  After half a dozen mouthfuls, the sonar filaments in his hair detected a shelf of rock ahead and he adjusted his course accordingly. The stealth shuttle would not be set down on rock because it was top-of-the-range and as such would have a battery rod.

  The rods telescoped from the belly of the ship, drilling fifteen metres below the ground, recharging the shuttle’s batteries with the power of the Earth. The cleanest of energies.

  The battery rod vibrated slightly as it harvested, and it was this vibration that Mulch honed in on now. It took him just over five minutes of stead
y munching to clear the rock shelf and reach the tip of the battery rod. The vibrations had already loosened the earth, and it was a simple matter for Mulch to clear himself a little cave. He spread saliva on the walls and waited.

  Holly piloted the LEP craft through the small shuttle port, overriding the shuttle doors with her Recon access code. Police Plaza hadn’t bothered to change her code because, as far as they were concerned, she was dead.

  A sheet of black rain-clouds was spreading shadows across the Italian countryside as they cleared the holographic outcrop that shielded the shuttle port. A light frost coated the reddish clay and a southerly wind lifted the shuttle’s tail.

  ‘We can’t stay out here for long,’ said Holly, throttling back to a hover. ‘This transporter doesn’t have defences.’

  ‘We won’t need long,’ said Artemis. ‘Fly in a grid search pattern, as though we’re not certain — where exactly the stealth shuttle is.’

  Holly punched some co-ordinates into the flight computer. ‘You’re the genius.’

  Artemis turned to Butler, who was sitting, cross-legged, in the aisle. ‘Now, old friend, can you make certain that Opal is looking this way?’

  ‘Can do,’ said Butler, crawling to the port-side exit. He knuckled the access button and the door slid back. The shuttle bucked slightly as the cabin pressure equalized then settled.

  Butler opened his bag of weaponry and selected a handful of metal spheres, roughly the size of tennis balls. He flicked back the safety cap on one, then depressed the button below it with his thumb. The button began to rise to its original position.

  ‘Ten seconds until the button is flush with the surface. Then it makes a connection.’

  ‘Thank you for the lecture,’ said Artemis dryly. ‘Though now is hardly the time.’

  Butler smiled, tossing the metal sphere into the air. Five seconds later, it exploded, blowing a small crater in the earth below. Scorch lines ran from the crater, giving it the appearance of a black flower.

  ‘I bet Opal is looking now,’ said Butler, priming the next grenade.

  ‘I’m sure others will be looking soon. Explosions don’t tend to go unnoticed for long. We are relatively isolated here. The nearest village is approximately ten miles away. If we are lucky, that gives us a ten-minute window. Next grid square, please,