A spark of Luc’s greedy personality surfaced. ‘I like that watch on your wrist. It looks expensive. Is it a Rolex?’
‘You don’t want this,’ said Butler, very reluctant to part with the com screen. ‘It’s cheap. A piece of trash.’
‘Just give me the watch.’
Butler peeled back the strap of the instrument on his wrist. ‘If I give you this watch, maybe you can tell me about all these batteries.’
‘It is you! Say cheese,’ squealed Carrere, forcing his pudgy thumb into the undersized trigger guard and pumping for all he was worth.
For Butler, time seemed to slow to a crawl. It was almost as though he were inside his personal time-stop. His soldier’s brain absorbed all the facts and analysed his options. Carrere’s finger was too far gone. In a moment, a wide-bore laser burst would be speeding his way, and would continue to bounce around the room until they were both dead. His gun was of no use in a situation like this. All he had was the Safetynet, but a two-metre sphere was not going to be enough. Not for two good-sized humans.
So, in the fraction of a second left to him, Butler formulated a new strategy. If the sphere could stop concussive waves coming towards him, perhaps it could stop them coming out of the blaster. Butler touched the screen of the Safetynet, and hurled the device in Carrere’s direction.
Not a nanosecond too soon, a spherical shield blossomed, enveloping the expanding beam from Carrere’s blaster: 360 degrees of protection. It was a sight to see, a fireworks display in a bubble. The shield hovered in the air, shafts of light ricocheting against the sphere’s curved planes.
Carrere was hypnotized by the sight, and Butler took advantage of the distraction to disarm him.
‘Start the engines,’ grunted the bodyguard into his throat mike. ‘The Surete are going to be all over this place in minutes. Foaly’s Safetynet didn’t stop the noise.’
‘Roger that. What about Monsieur Carrere?’
Butler dumped the dazed Parisian flat on the carpet. ‘Luc and I are going to have a little chat.’
For the first time Carrere seemed to be aware of his surroundings.
‘Who are you?’ he mumbled. ‘What’s happening?’
Butler ripped open the man’s shirt, placing his palm flat on the Pi’s heart. Time for a little trick he’d learned from Madame Ko, his Japanese sensei. ‘Don’t worry, Monsieur Carrere. I’m a doctor.There’s been an accident, but you’re perfectly fine.’
‘An accident? I don’t remember any accident.’
‘Trauma. It’s quite normal. I’m just going to check your vitals.’
Butler placed a thumb on Luc’s neck, locating the artery. ‘I’m going to ask you a few questions, to check for concussion.’
Luc didn’t argue. Then again, who’d argue with a two-metre-plus Eurasian with muscles like a Michelangelo statue?
‘Is your name Luc Carrere?’
‘Yes.’
Butler noted the pulse rate. One from the heartbeat, and a second reference on the carotid artery. Steady, in spite of the accident.
‘Are you a private eye?’
‘I prefer the title investigator.’
No increase in pulse rate. The man was telling the truth.
‘Have you ever sold batteries to a mystery buyer?’
‘No, I have not,’ protested Luc. ‘What kind of doctor are you?’
The man’s pulse sky-rocketed. He was lying.
‘Answer the questions, Monsieur Carrere,’ said Butler sternly. ‘Just one more. Have you ever had dealings with goblins?’
Relief flooded through Luc. The police did not ask questions about fairies. ‘What are you? Crazy? Goblins? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Butler closed his eyes, concentrating on the pounding beneath his thumb and palm. Luc’s pulse had settled. He was telling the truth. He had never had any direct dealings with the goblins. Obviously the B’wa Kell wasn’t that stupid.
Butler stood up, pocketing the Bouncer. He could hear the sirens on the street below.
‘Hey, Doctor,’ protested Luc. ‘You can’t just leave me like this.’
Butler eyed him coldly. ‘I would take you with me, but the police will want to know why your apartment is full of what I suspect are counterfeit bills.’
Luc could only watch with his mouth open as the giant figure disappeared into the corridor. He knew he should run, but Luc Carrere hadn’t run more than fifty metres since gym class in the nineteen seventies, and anyway, his legs had suddenly turned to jelly. The thought of a long stretch in prison can do that to a person.
CHAPTER 7: JOINING THE DOTS
Root pointed the finger of authority at Holly.
‘Congratulations, Captain. You managed to lose some LEP technology.’
Holly was ready for that one. ‘Not strictly my fault, sir. The human was mesmerized and you ordered me not to leave the shuttle. I had no control over the situation.’
‘Ten out of ten,’ commented Foaly. ‘Good answer. Anyway the Safetynet has a self-destruct, like everything I send into the field.’
‘Quiet, civilian,’ snapped the commander. But there was no venom in the LEP officer’s rebuke. He was relieved; they all were. The human threat had been contained, and without the loss of a single life. They were gathered in a conference room reserved for civilian committees. Generally debriefings of this importance would be held in the Operations’ Centre, but the LEP was not ready to show Artemis Fowl the nerve centre of its defences just yet.
Root jabbed an intercom button on the desk.
‘Trouble, are you out there?’
‘Yessir.’
‘OK. Now listen, I want you to stand down the alert. Send the teams into the deep tunnels, see if we can’t root out a few goblin gangs. There are still plenty of loose ends: who’s organizing the B’wa Kell for one, and for what reason?’
Artemis knew he shouldn’t say anything. The sooner his side of the bargain was completed, the sooner he could be in the Arctic. But the entire Paris scenario seemed suspicious.
‘Does anyone else think this is too neat? It’s just what you all wanted to happen. Not to mention the fact that there could be more mesmerized humans up there.’
Root did not appreciate being lectured by a Mud Boy. Especially this particular Mud Boy.
‘Look, Fowl, you’ve done what we asked. The Paris connection has been broken off. There won’t be any more illegal shipments coming down that chute, I assure you. In fact, we have doubled security on all chutes, whether they’re operational or not. The important thing is that whoever is trading with the humans hasn’t told them about the People. There will, of course, be a major investigation, but that’s an internal problem. So don’t you worry your juvenile head about it. Concentrate on growing some bristles.’
Foaly interrupted before Artemis could respond. ‘About Russia,’ he said,
hurriedly placing his torso between Artemis and the commander. ‘I’ve got a lead.’
‘You traced the e-mail?’ said Artemis, his attention switching immediately to the centaur.
‘Exactly,’ confirmed Foaly, launching into lecture mode.
‘But it’s been spiked. Untraceable.’
Foaly chuckled openly. ‘Spiked? Don’t make me laugh. You Mud Men and your communications systems.
