Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code af-3 Page 12

  ‘Now,’ she said. ‘Let’s see if we can’t break the airspeed record.’

  A record that Julius Root had set eighty years ago.

  Part 2: Counterattack

  Chapter 8: Hooks, Lines And SinkersS

  EXCERPT FROM ARTEMIS FOWL’S DIARY DISK 2 ENCRYPTED

  Today Father was fitted for his prosthetic limb. He joked throughout the entire process, as though he were being measured for a new suit on Grafton Street. I must admit, his good humour was infectious, and I found myself making excuses just to sit in the corner of the hospital room and enjoy his presence.

  It wasn’t always this way. In the past, one needed valid grounds to visit my father. Of course, he wasn’t generally available, and even when he was, his time was limited. One did not burst into the Fowl study without good reason. But now I feel welcome at his side. It is a nicefeeling.

  My father always liked to impart wisdom, but now it is more philosophical than financial. In the old days, he would direct my attention to the latest share prices in the Financial Times.

  ‘Look, Artemis’, he would say. ‘Everything else Jails, but gold stays steady. That is because there is not enough of it. And there never will be. Buy gold, boy, and keep it safe.’

  I liked to listen to his pearls of wisdom, but now they are harder to understand.

  On the third day of his consciousness, I fell asleep on the hospital bed while my father did his walking exercises. I woke to find him looking at me thoughtfully.

  ‘Shall I tell you something, Arty?’ he said. I nodded, unsure what to expect.

  ‘While I was a prisoner I thought about my life, how I had wasted it gathering riches whatever the cost to my family and others around me. In a man’s life, he gets few chances to make a difference. To do the right thing. To be a hero, if you will. I intend to become involved in that struggle.’

  This was not the kind of wisdom I was accustomed to hearing from my father. Was this his natural personality or the fairy magic? Or a combination of both?

  ‘I never got involved before. I always thought the world could not be changed.’

  Father’s gaze was intense, burning with new passion. ‘But things are different now. My priorities are different. I intend to seize the day, be the hero that every father should be.’ He sat on the bed beside me.

  ‘And what about you, Arty? Will you make the journey with me?

  When the moment comes will you take your chance to be a hero?’

  I couldn’t respond. I didn’t know the answer. I still don’t.

  FOWL MANOR

  For two hours Artemis locked himself in his study, sitting cross-legged in the meditative position taught to him by Butler. Occasionally he would voice an idea aloud, to be picked up by a voice-activated digital recorder placed on the mat before him. Butler and Juliet knew better than to interrupt the planning process. This period was crucial to the success of their mission. Artemis had the ability to visualize a hypothetical situation and calculate the likely outcomes. It was almost a dream state, and any disturbance could send the thread of his ideas flying like vapours.

  Eventually Artemis emerged, tired but satisfied. He held three CD-writable disks.

  ‘I want you to study these files,’ he said. ‘They contain details of your assignment. When you have memorized the contents destroy the disks.’

  Holly took the disks.

  ‘A CD. How quaint. We have these in museums.’

  ‘There are several computers in the study,’ continued Artemis. ‘Use any terminal you wish.’

  Butler was empty-handed.

  ‘Nothing for me, Artemis?’ he asked.

  Artemis waited until the others had gone.

  ‘I needed to give you your instructions verbally,’ he began. ‘I don’t want to risk Foaly picking them up from the computer.’

  Butler sighed deeply, sinking into a leather armchair by the fireplace.

  ‘I’m not going with you. Am I?’

  Artemis sat on the chair’s arm. ‘No, old friend. But I have an important task for you.’

  ‘Really, Artemis,’ said Butler. ‘I’ve skipped right over my midlife crisis. You don’t have to invent a job just to make me feel useful.’

  ‘No, Butler. This is of vital importance. It concerns the mind wipes.

  If my plan succeeds, we will have to submit to them. I see no way to sabotage the process itself, so I must ensure that something survives

  Foaly’s search. Something that will trigger our memories of the People.

  Foaly once told me that a strong enough stimulus can result in total recall.’

  Butler shifted his position in the chair, wincing. His chest was still giving him trouble. Not surprising really. He had been alive less than two days. ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘We need to lay a couple of false trails. Foaly will be expecting that.’

  ‘Of course. A hidden file on the server. I could send an e-mail to ourselves, but not pick it up. Then the first time we check our mail, all this information will come through.’

  Artemis handed the bodyguard a folded sheet of A4.

  ‘No doubt we will be mesmerized and questioned. In the past we have hidden from the mesmer behind mirrored sunglasses. We won’t get away with that on this occasion. So, we need to come up with something else. Here are the instructions.’

  Butler studied the plans.

  ‘It’s possible. I know someone in Limerick. The best man in the country for this kind of specialized work.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Artemis. ‘After that, you need to put everything we have on the People on a disk. All documents, videos, schematics.

  Everything. And don’t forget my diary. The whole story is there.’

  ‘And where do we hide this disk?’ asked Butler.

  Artemis untied the fairy pendant from around his neck.

  ‘I’d say this was about the same size as the disk. Wouldn’t you?’

  Butler tucked the gold medallion into his jacket pocket.

  ‘It soon will be,’ he said.

  Butler prepared them a meal. Nothing fancy. Vegetarian spring rolls, followed by mushroom risotto with creme caramel to finish. Mulch opted for a bucket of diced worms and beetles, sauteed in a rainwater and moss vinaigrette.

  ‘Has everybody studied their files?’ Artemis asked, when the group had adjourned to the library.

  ‘Yes,’ said Holly. ‘But I seem to be missing a few key pieces.’

  ‘Nobody has the entire plan. Just the parts concerning them. I think it’s safer that way. Do we have the equipment I specified?’

  Holly dumped the contents of her pack on the rug.

  ‘A complete LEP surveillance kit, including camouflage foil, mikes,

  video clips and a first aid box.’

  ‘Plus we still have two intact LEP helmets and three laser handguns left over from the siege,’ added Butler. ‘And, of course, one of the prototype Cubes from the lab.’

  Artemis passed the cordless phone to Mulch. ‘Very well then. We may as well get started.’

  THE SPIRO NEEDLE

  Jon Spiro sat in his opulent office, staring glumly at the C Cube on his desk. People thought it was easy being him. How little they knew. The more money you had, the more pressure you were under. He had eight hundred employees in this building alone, all relying on him for a pay cheque. They wanted yearly salary reviews, medical plans, baby-care centres, regular coffee breaks, double pay for overtime and even stock options, for heaven’s sake. Sometimes Spiro missed the times when a troublesome worker was thrown out of a high window and that was the end of him. These days, if you threw someone out of a window, they’d phone their lawyer on the way down.

  But this Cube could be the answer to his prayers. A once-in-a-lifetime deal, the brass ring. If he could get this weird little gizmo working, the sky was the limit. Literally. The world’s satellites would be his to command. He would have complete control over spy satellites, military lasers, communications networks and, most important of al
l, television stations. He could feasibly rule the world.

  His secretary buzzed from reception.

  ‘Mister Blunt to see you, sir.’

  Spiro jabbed the intercom button.

  ‘OK, Marlene, send him in. And tell him he better look sorry.’

  Blunt did indeed look sorry when he pushed through the double doors. The doors themselves were imposing enough. Spiro had them stolen from the ballroom of the sunken Titanic. They were a perfect example of power gone mad.

  Arno Blunt was not quite so cocky as he had been in London. Then again, it is difficult to look arrogant when your forehead is a mass of bruises and your mouth is full of gums and nothing else.

  Spiro winced at the sight of his sunken cheeks.

  ‘How many teeth did you lose?’

  Blunt touched his jaw gingerly.

  ‘All ob ‘em. Dendish shaid de roods are shaddered.’

  ‘It serves you right,’ said Spiro matter-of-factly. ‘What do I gotta do, Arno? I hand you Artemis Fowl on a platter and you mess it up. Tell me what happened. And I don’t want to hear about any earthquakes. I want the truth.’

  Blunt wiped a blob of drool from the corner of his mouth.

  ‘I doh undershtan ih. Shomeshin explohduh. I dunno wha’. Shome kinna shoun grenay. Buh I dell you shomeshin. Budlah ish dead. I shod him in de head. No way he’sh geddin uh affer da.’

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ snapped Spiro. ‘You’re giving me a headache. The sooner you get those new teeth, the better.’

  ‘My gumsh wi be healed suffishendly by hish afernoo.’

  ‘I thought I told you to shut up!’

  ‘Shorry, bosh.’

  ‘You’ve put me in a very difficult situation, Arno. Because of your incompetence I had to hire a team from the Antonellis. Carla is a smart girl; she could decide that they deserve a percentage. It would cost me billions.’

  Arno tried his best to look remorseful.

  ‘And don’t bother with the puppy dog look, Blunt. It doesn’t cut any ice with me. If this deal goes south, you’ll be losing a lot more than a couple of teeth.’

  Arno decided to change the subject.

  ‘Sho, di’ your shiendishds geh de Cube worging?’

  ‘No,’ said Spiro, twisting his gold identity bracelet. ‘Fowl has it sealed up tight. An Eternity Code, or some such thing. That idiot, Pearson, couldn’t get a peep out of it.’

  It was at that moment, dramatically, that a voice emanated from the C Cube’s micro-speaker mesh.

  ‘Mister Spiro?’ said the voice. ‘This is Ireland calling. Do you read,

  Mister Spiro?’

  Jon Spiro was not a man who spooked easily. He hadn’t seen a horror movie yet that could make him jump in his seat, but the voice coming out of that speaker almost knocked him off his chair. The quality was incredible. Close your eyes and you’d swear that the person speaking was standing right in front of you.

  ‘You wan’ me do anshwer da?’

  ‘I told you to shut up! Anyway, I don’t know how to answer this thing.’

  ‘I can hear you, Mister Spiro,’ said the voice. ‘You don’t need to do anything. Just talk. The box does the rest.’ Spiro noticed that a digital wave meter had appeared on the Cube’s screen. When he spoke it registered.

  ‘OK then. We got communication. Now, who the hell are you? And how did you get this box working?’

  ‘The name is Mo Digence, Mister Spiro. I’m the monkey from Carla Frazetti’s team. I don’t know what kind of box you have at your end; I just have a plain old telephone.’

  ‘Well, who dialled the number then?’

  ‘A little kid I have here by the scruff of the neck. I impressed upon him how important it was that I talk to you.’

  ‘And how did you know to talk to me? Who gave you my name?’

  ‘Again, the kid. He was very eager to tell me everything after he saw what I did to the metal man.’

  Spiro sighed. If the metal man was damaged, he would have to pay the Antonellis a fine.

  ‘What did you do to the metal man?’

  ‘Nothing permanent. But he won’t be aiming any guns at kids for a while.’

  ‘Why did you feel it necessary to damage your own partner, Digence?’

  There was a pause on the other end while Mulch got the supposed sequence of events sorted out.

  ‘It was like this, Mister Spiro. Our instructions were to escort the kid across to the US. But Loafers goes crazy and starts waving a gun about. I figured this was the wrong way to go, so I stopped him. Forcibly. Anyway, the kid gets so scared that he tells me everything I want to know. And here I am now having a conversation with you.’

  Spiro rubbed his hands together. ‘You did the right thing, Digence. There’ll be a bonus in this for you. I’ll see to it personally.’

  ‘Thanks, Mister Spiro. Believe me, the pleasure was mine.’

  ‘Is the Fowl kid there?’

  ‘Right beside me. A little pale, but not a scratch on him.’

  ‘Put him on,’ ordered Spiro, all traces of depression vanishing.

  ‘Spiro, it’s me.’ Artemis’s voice was aloof, but with an unmistakable tremor.

  Spiro squeezed the air, as though it were Artemis’s neck.

  ‘Not so cocky now, kid? It’s like I told you, you don’t have the guts for this job. Me, on the other hand, if I don’t get what I want, then I’ll have Mo put you out of my misery. Do we understand each other?’

  ‘Yes. Loud and clear.’

  ‘Good,’ said Spiro, clamping a huge Cuban cigar between his teeth.

  It would be chewed to a pulp, but not lit. ‘Now, talk. What do I have to do to get this Cube working?’

  Artemis’s voice sounded even shakier than before. ‘It’s not that simple, Mister Spiro. The C Cube is coded. Something called an Eternity Code. I can remotely access certain basic functions: the phone, MP3 player and so on, but to disable the code completely and unlock the Cube’s potential, I need to have it here in front of me. If you could just bring the Cube here. .’

  Spiro spat out the cigar.

  ‘Hold it right there, Fowl. Just how stupid do you think I am? I’m going to bring this priceless technology back to Europe? Forget it! If you’re going to disable this thing, you’re going to do it here. In the Spiro Needle!’

  ‘But my tools? My lab?’

  ‘I got tools here. And a lab. The best in the world. You do it here.’

  ‘Yes. Whatever you say.’

  ‘That’s right, kid. Whatever I say. I want you to fuel up the Lear jet that I happen to know you have, and do a quick hop across to O’ Hare Airport. I’ll have a chopper waiting for you.’

  ‘I don’t suppose I have a choice.’

  ‘That’s right, kid. You don’t. But do this right and I might just let you go. Did you get all that, Digence?’

  ‘Loud and clear, Mister Spiro.’

  ‘Good. I’m counting on you to get the kid here safely.’

  ‘Consider it done.’

  The line went dead.

  Spiro chuckled.

  ‘I think I’m going to celebrate,’ he said, punching the intercom button. ‘Marlene, send in a pot of coffee, and no low-caffeine junk either. I want the real thing.’

  ‘But, Mister Spiro, your doctors said Spiro waited for his secretary to realize who she was arguing with.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. Right away, sir.’

  Spiro leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.

  ‘You see, Blunt. This is going to turn out fine, in spite of your incompetence. I got that kid just where I want him.’

  ‘Yesh, shir. Mashderfully done, shir.’

  Spiro laughed. ‘Shut up, you clown. You sound like some cartoon character.’

  ‘Yesh. Mosh amushing, shir.’

  Spiro licked his lips, anticipating his coffee. ‘For a supposed genius, that kid sure is gullible. Do this right and I might just let you go? He fell for that one hook, line and sinker.’

  Blunt tri
ed to grin. It was not a pretty sight. ‘Yesh, Mishduh Shpiro. Hoo, line an’ shinkuh.’

  FOWL MANOR

  Artemis hung up the phone, his face flushed with the thrill of the sting.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

  ‘I think he bought it,’ replied Butler.

  ‘Hook, line and sinker,’ added Mulch. ‘You have a jet? I presume there’s a kitchen.’

  Butler drove them to Dublin Airport in the Bentley. It was to be his final act in this particular operation. Holly and Mulch huddled in the back, glad of the tinted glass.

  The Butler siblings sat up front, dressed in corresponding black

  Armani suits. Juliet had jazzed hers up with a pink cravat and glitter make-up. The family resemblance was clear: the same narrow nose and full lips. The same eyes, jumping in their sockets like roulette balls in the wheel. Watching, always watching.

  ‘You don’t need a traditional gun on this trip,’ said Butler. ‘Use an

  LEP blaster. They don’t need reloading, they shoot in a straight line forever and they’re non-lethal. I gave Holly a couple from my stash.’

  ‘Got it, Dom.’

  Butler took the airport exit.

  ‘Dom. I haven’t been called that in so long. Being a bodyguard becomes your world. You forget to have your own life. Are you sure that’s what you want, Juliet?’

  Juliet was twining her hair in a tight braid. At the end of the plait she attached an ornamental jade ring. Ornamental and dangerous.

  ‘Where else would I get to bodyslam people outside of a wrestling ring? Bodyguarding fits the bill, for the moment.’

  Butler lowered his voice. ‘Of course, it’s completely against protocol for you to have Artemis as your principal. He already knows your first name and, truth be told, I think he’s a little fond of you.’

  Juliet slapped the jade ring against her palm.

  ‘This is just temporary. I’m not anybody’s bodyguard just yet. Madame Ko doesn’t like my style.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Butler, pointing to the jade ring. ‘Where did you get that?’

  Juliet smiled. ‘My own idea. A nice little surprise for anyone who underestimates females.’