This was Butler’s worst nightmare. His charge was in the hands of a psychopath with nothing to lose. And there was nothing he could do about it.
A phone rang.
‘I think it’s mine,’ said Artemis automatically.
Another ring. Definitely his mobile phone. Amazing the thing worked at all really, considering what it had been through. Artemis ripped open the case.
‘Yes?’
It was one of those frozen moments. Nobody knew what to expect.
Artemis tossed the handset at Opal Koboi. ‘It’s for
The pixie swooped low to catch the tiny mobile phone. Cudgeon’s chest heaved. His body knew what was happening even if his brain hadn’t figured it out yet.
Opal placed the tiny speaker to her pointed ear.
‘— Really, Foaly,’ said Cudgeon’s voice. ‘Do you think I’d go to all this trouble to share power? Oh no. As soon as this charade is over, Miss Koboi will have a tragic accident. Perhaps several tragic accidents — ‘
All colour drained from Opal’s face. ‘You!’ she screeched.
‘It’s a trick!’ protested Cudgeon. ‘They’re trying to turn us against each other.’
But his eyes told the real story.
Pixies are feisty creatures, in spite of their size. They put up with so much and then explode. For Opal Koboi, it was explosion time. She manipulated the Hoverboy’s controls, dropping in a steep dive.
Cudgeon didn’t hesitate. He put two bursts into the chair, but the thick cushion protected its pilot.
Opal Koboi flew straight at her former partner. When the elf raised his arms to protect himself, Artemis slid to the floor. Briar Cudgeon was not so lucky. He became entangled in the Hoverboy’s safety rail and was borne aloft by the wildcat pixie. They whirled around the chamber ricocheting off several walls before crashing straight through the open plasma panel in the cannon
Pipe — Unfortunately for Cudgeon, the plasma was now active. He had activated it himself. But this irony did not occur to him as he was fried by a million radioactive tendrils.
Koboi was lucky. She was pitched from the hoverchair and lay moaning on the rubber tiles.
Butler was on the move before Cudgeon landed. He flipped Artemis over, checking his frame for wounds. A couple of scratches. Superficial.
Nothing a shot of blue sparks wouldn’t take care of.
Holly checked Opal Koboi’s status.
‘She conscious?’ asked the commander.
Koboi’s eyes flickered open. Holly shut them with a swift rabbit punch to the forehead. ‘Nope,’ she said innocently. ‘Out cold.’
Root took one look at Cudgeon and realized there was no point checking for vitals. Maybe he was better off. The alternative would have been a couple of centuries in Howler’s Peak.
Artemis noticed movement by the door. It was Mulch. He was grinning and waving. Waving goodbye, just in case Julius forgot about his two-day head start. The dwarf pointed to a blue canister mounted on a wall bracket and he was gone.
‘Butler,’ rasped Artemis, with the absolute last ounce of his strength.
‘Could someone spray me down? And then could we please go to Murmansk?’
Butler was mystified. ‘Spray? What spray?’
Holly unhooked the anti-rad foam canister, flipping the safety catch.
‘Allow me,’ she said, grinning. ‘It would be my pleasure.’
She directed a jet of foul-smelling foam at Artemis. In seconds, he resembled a half-melted snowman. Holly laughed. Who said there were no perks in law enforcement?
Once the cannon plasma had short-circuited Cudgeon’s remote control, power came rushing back to the Operations’ booth. Foaly lost no time in activating the subcutaneous sleepers planted below goblin offenders’ skin.
That put half of the B’wa Kell out of action straight away. Then he reprogrammed Police Plaza’s own DNA cannons for non-lethal bursts. It was all over in seconds. Captain Kelp’s first thought was for his subordinates.
‘Sound off,’ he shouted, his voice slicing through the chaos. ‘Did we lose anyone?’
The squadron leaders answered in sequence, confirming that there had been no fatalities.
‘We were lucky,’ remarked a warlock medic. ‘There’s not a drop of magic left in the building. Not even a medi-pac. The next officer to go down would have stayed down.’
Trouble turned his attention to the Ops’ booth. He did not look amused.
Foaly depolarized the quartz window and opened a channel. ‘Hey, guys.
I wasn’t behind this. It was Cudgeon. I just saved everyone. I sent a sound recording to a mobile phone; that wasn’t easy. You should be giving me a medal.’
Trouble clenched his fist. ‘Yeah, Foaly, come on out here and let me give you your medal.’
Foaly may not have had many social skills, but he knew thinly veiled threats when he heard them.
‘Oh no. Not me. I’m staying right here until Commander Root gets back. He can explain everything.’
The centaur blacked out the window and busied himself running a bug sweep. He would isolate every last trace of Opal Koboi and flush it out of the system. Paranoid was he? Who was the paranoid one now, Holly? Who was the paranoid one now?
CHAPTER 14: FATHER’S DAY
The Arctic seascape between Murmansk and Severomorsk had become a submarine graveyard for Russia’s once mighty fleet. Easily a hundred nuclear submarines lay rusting in the coastline’s various inlets and fjords, with only the odd danger sign or roving patrol to warn off curious passers-by. At night, you didn’t have to look too hard to see the glow, or listen too hard to hear the hum.
One such submarine was the Nikodim. A twenty-year-old Typhoon class, with rusty pipes and a leaky reactor. Not a healthy combination. And it was here that the Mafiya kingpin, Britva, had instructed his lackeys to make the exchange for Artemis Fowl Senior.
Mikhael Vassikin and Kamar were none too happy with the situation.
They had been bunked in the captain’s quarters for two days already, and were convinced their lives were growing shorter by the minute.
Vassikin coughed. ‘You hear that? My guts aren’t right. It’s the radiation, I’m telling you.’
‘This whole thing is ridiculous,’ snarled Kamar. ‘The Fowl boy is thirteen. Thirteen! He’s a baby. How can a child raise five million dollars? It’s crazy.’
Vassikin sat up on his bunk. ‘Maybe not. I’ve heard stories about this one. They say he has powers.’
Kamar snorted. ‘Powers? Magic? Oh, go stuff your head in the reactor, you old woman.’
‘No, I have a contact in Interpol. They have an active file on this boy.
Thirteen years old and with an active file? I am thirty-seven, and still no Interpol file.’ The Russian sounded disappointed.
‘An active file. What’s magic about that?’
‘But my contact swears that this boy, Fowl, is sighted all over the world, on the same day. The same hour.’
Kamar was unimpressed. ‘Your contact is a bigger coward than you are.’
‘Believe what you want. But I’ll be happy to get off this cursed boat alive. One way or the other.’
Kamar pulled a fur cap down over his ears. ‘OK. Let’s go. It’s time.’
‘Finally,’ sighed Vassikin.
