‘Very well, Butler. I shall remain here. Unless. .’
Butler’s eyes narrowed. ‘Unless what?’
Artemis gave a dangerous smile. ‘Unless I have an idea.’
In Police Plaza the situation was desperate. Captain Kelp had pulled the remaining forces into a circle behind overturned workstations. The goblins were taking pot shots through the doorway, and none of the warlocks had a drop of magic left in them. Anyone who got injured from now on, stayed injured.
The Council was huddled behind a wall of troops. All except Wing
Commander Vinyaya, who had demanded to be given one of the electric rifles.
She hadn’t missed yet.
The techs were crouched behind their desks, trying every code combination in the book to gain access to the Operations’ booth. Trouble didn’t hold out much hope on that front. If Foaly locked a door then it stayed locked.
Meanwhile, inside the booth, all the centaur could do was pound his fists in frustration. It was a sign of Cudgeon’s cruelty that he allowed Foaly to view the battle beyond the blast windows.
It seemed hopeless. Even if Julius and Holly had received his message,
it was too late now to do anything. Foaly’s lips and throat were dry. Everything had deserted him. His computer, his intellect, his glib sarcasm. Everything.
Something wet slapped Butler in the head.
‘What was that?’ he hissed at Holly, who was bringing up the rear.
‘Don’t ask,’ croaked Captain Short. Even through her helmet filters the smell was foul.
The contents of the column had had a century to ferment, and smelled as toxic as the day it went in. Probably worse. At least, thought the bodyguard,
I don’t have to eat this stuff.
Root was on point, his helmet lights cutting swathes through the darkness. The pillar was on a forty-degree angle, with regular grooves that were intended to anchor the titanium block filling.
Mulch had done a sterling job of breaking down the pipe’s contents. But the recycling had to go somewhere. Mulch, in fairness to him, chewed every mouthful thoroughly to avoid too many lumps.
The raiding party struggled on grimly, trying not to think about what they were actually doing. By the time they caught up with the dwarf, he was clinging to a ridge, face constricted in pain.
‘What is it, Mulch?’ asked Root, concern accidentally slipping into his tones.
‘Geddup,’ Mulch groaned. ‘Geddup rih now.’
Root’s eyes widened with something approaching panic. ‘Up!’ he hissed. ‘Everybody up!’
They scrambled into the tight wedge of space above the dwarf. Not a second too soon. Mulch relaxed, releasing a burst of dwarf gas that could have inflated a circus tent. He rehinged his jaw.
‘That’s better,’ he sighed. ‘Lotta air in that soil. Now would you mind getting that beam out of my face. You know how I feel about light.’
The commander obliged, switching to infra-red.
‘OK, now we’re up here, how do we get out? You didn’t bring your cutter, I seem to remember.’
The dwarf grinned. ‘No problem. A good thief always plans on a return visit. See here.’ Mulch was pointing to an area of titanium that seemed exactly like the rest of the pipe. ‘I patched this up last time. It’s just flexi- bond.’
Root had to smile. ‘You are a cunning reprobate. How did we ever catch you?’
‘Luck,’ replied the dwarf, elbowing a section of the pipe. A large circle popped out, revealing the hundred- year-old hole. ‘Welcome to Koboi Labs.’
They clambered into a dimly lit corridor. Loaded hover trolleys were stacked four deep around the walls. Strip lighting operated with minimum illumination overhead.
‘I know this place,’ noted Root. ‘I’ve been here before on inspection for the special-weapons permits. We’re two corridors across from the computer centre. We have a real chance of making it.’
‘What about these DNA stun cannons?’ enquired Butler.
‘Tricky,’ admitted the commander. ‘If the cannon’s onboard doesn’t recognize you, you’re dead. They can be programmed to reject entire species.’
‘Tricky,’ agreed the manservant.
‘I’m betting they’re not active,’ continued Root. ‘First, if this place is crawling with goblins, they hardly came in through the front door. And second,
if Foaly is being blamed for this little uprising, Koboi will want to pretend they had no weapons, just like the LEP.’
‘Strategy?’ asked Butler.
‘Not much,’ admitted the commander. ‘Once we turn the corner, we’re on camera. So down the corridor as fast as you can, hit anything that gets in your way. If it has a weapon, confiscate it. Mulch, you stay here and widen the tunnel, we may need to get out fast. Ready?’
Holly extended a hand. ‘Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.’
The commander and manservant laid their hands on hers. ‘Likewise.’
They headed down the corridor. Two hundred goblins versus our three virtually unarmed heroes. It was going to be close.
‘Intruders,’ squealed Opal Koboi delightedly. ‘Inside the building.’
Cudgeon crossed to the surveillance plasma screen.
‘I do believe it’s Julius. Amazing. Obviously your hit team was exaggerating, General Sputa.’
Sputa licked his eyeballs furiously. Lieutenant Nyle would be losing his skin before shedding season.
Cudgeon whispered into Opal’s ear. ‘Can we activate the DNA cannons?’
The pixie shook her head. ‘Not immediately. They’ve been reprogrammed to reject goblin DNA. It would take a few minutes.’
Cudgeon turned to the four goblin generals. ‘Have an armoured squad come up behind and another one from the flank. We can trap them at the door. There will be no way out.’
Cudgeon stared raptly at the plasma screen. ‘This is even better than I’d planned. Now, my old friend, Julius, it’s my turn to humiliate you.’
Artemis was meditating. This was a time for concentration. He sat cross-legged on a rock, visualizing the various rescue strategies that could be utilized when they returned to the Arctic. If the Mafiya managed to set up the drop before Artemis could reach them, then there was only one plan that could work. And it was a high-risk plan. Artemis searched deeper inside his brain.
There must be another way.
He was disturbed by an orchestral noise emanating from the titanium column. It sounded like a sustained note on a bassoon. Dwarf gas, he reasoned. The column had decent acoustics.
What he needed was a brainwave. One crystal thought that would slice through this mire he had become embroiled in, and save the day.
After eight minutes, he was interrupted again. Not gas this time. A cry for help. Mulch was in trouble, and in pain.
Artemis was about to suggest that Butler deal with it when he realized that his bodyguard wasn’t there. Off on his mission to save the Lower Elements. It was up to him.
He poked his head into the column. It was black as the inside of an old boot, and twice as pungent. Artemis decided that an LEP helmet was his first requirement. He quickly retrieved a spare from the shuttle and, after a moment’s experimentation, activated the lights and seals.
‘Mulch? Are you up there?’
No reply. Could this be a trap? Was it possible that he, Artemis Fowl, was about to fall for the oldest ruse in
