'They're going to help you,' explained Holly gently.
No.1 had a million questions, and knew exactly how to phrase every one of them. But for the moment, words took a back seat to pictures, and No.1 's square impish jaw dropped further and further as he stared through the tinted glass, absorbing the wonders of the modern motorway.
Holly took the opportunity to catch up with events.
'Doodah and Mulch got away OK?'
'Yes,' confirmed Artemis. 'Foaly was anxious to have the shuttle returned, as he had taken it without clearance. We shouldn't be more than a few hours behind them. By the time you get to the shuttle port, the shutdown should be lifted. I wouldn't be surprised if you've earned yourself a medal, Holly. Job spectacularly well done.'
'There are still loose ends.'
'True. But nothing an LEP mind-wipe team can't take care of. There is no physical evidence that anything other than humans caused this devastation.'
Holly leaned back against the seat. 'I'm forgetting something.'
'You're forgetting the demons. Their spell is disintegrating. Their island will be lost in time. Will be, or has been. They drift in and out of time, making contact like a bouncing ball.'
No.1 picked up on one word. 'Disintegrating?'
'Hybras is doomed,' said Artemis frankly. 'Your home will shortly be dragged through the time tunnel along with everything on it. When I say shortly, I mean at our end. At your end it could have already happened, or maybe it will happen in a million years.' He extended his hand. 'And by the way, my name is Artemis Fowl.'
No.1 took the hand, nibbling the forefinger as was the demon custom.
'I am Number One. Imp. Isn't there something we can do to save Hybras?'
'Hardly,' replied Artemis, retrieving his finger and checking it for bite marks. 'The only way to save Hybras is to bring it back to Earth under controlled circumstances. Sadly, the only people who could have done that were the warlocks, and they are all dead.'
No.1 chewed his lip. 'Em, well, I'm not too sure, but I might be a warlock. I can speak in tongues.'
Artemis sat forward, straining his seat belt. 'Speaking in tongues could be merely an aptitude. What else can you do?'
'Again, not positive about this, but I may have, possibly, turned wood to stone.'
'The gargoyle's touch. Now that is interesting.You know, Number One, there's something about you. Those markings. You seem familiar to me.' Artemis frowned, irritated that he couldn't quite place the memory.
'We haven't met before, I would certainly remember. Nevertheless, there is something. .'
'These markings are quite common, especially the forehead hex.
Demons often think they know me. Now, about saving Hybras?'
Artemis nodded. 'Of course. The best course of action is to get you below ground. I only dabble in magical theory;
Foaly has live experts just dying to examine you. I feel confident that the LEP can come up with a plan to save your island.'
'Really?'
Butler interrupted from the front of the car, saving Artemis from answering.
'We have a bit of a situation at Chateau Paradizo,' he said, tapping the screen of a compact laptop suckered to the dashboard. 'Maybe you'd better take a look.'
The bodyguard passed the computer over his shoulder. The screen was divided into a dozen boxes, the security feed from Chateau Paradizo, still being supplied by Foaly's data twist.
Artemis balanced the laptop on his knees, his bright eyes flickering across the screen.
'Oh dear,' he said thoughtfully. 'This is not good.'
Holly swapped seats, so she could see the screen.
'Not good at all,' she said.
No.1 was not too worried about the computer. As far as he was concerned it was just a little box.
'Not good,' he mused, accessing the dictionary in his head. 'A synonym for bad.'
Artemis did not look up from the screen. 'That's exactly right, Number One. This is bad. Very bad.'
Chapter 10: KONG THE KING
Minerva Paradizo was simply furious. That odious Fowl boy had somehow stolen her research subject from right under her nose. And after all the money Papa had spent on security, even hiring that despicable Mister Kong. Sometimes Minerva wondered if all males were boors, except Papa of course.
The grounds were a mess. Master Fowl had left quite a trail of destruction in his wake. The cars were so much scrap metal. The lawns were ploughed deep enough to plant vegetables, and the stink of smoke and oil had penetrated every corner of every room. Only a hurried phone call to the police station in Vence and a few improvised fabrications about a generator accident had prevented the arrival of a police car.
Once the fires were under control, Minerva called a staff meeting on the patio. Juan Soto, the security chief, her father, Gaspard, and of course Billy Kong, were in attendance. Mister Kong seemed more agitated than usual.
'Demons,' muttered the Malibu native. 'True, all true. I have a responsibility to my brother. Finish what he started.'
If Minerva had been paying attention to Billy Kong's words, she might have noticed a touch of the ominous about them, but Minerva was busy worrying about her own problems. And in Minerva's opinion, her own problems were far more important than anyone else's.
'Can we focus here, everyone? You may have noticed that my project is in crisis.'
Gaspard Paradizo had just about had it with Minerva's project. So far, he had indulged her to the tune of one and a half million euros, but now his entire estate had been trashed. It really was too much.
'Minerva, cherie,' he said, smoothing back his silver hair. 'I think we need to take a step back from this. Perhaps quit while we're not too far behind.'
'Quit, Papa? Quit? While Artemis Fowl conducts a parallel project? I think not.'
Gaspard spoke again, this time with a little iron in his tone. 'You think not, Minerva?'
Minerva blushed. 'Sorry, Papa. I am infuriated, that's all. This Irish boy swans in here with his troops, and just like that, ruins all our work. It is unbearable, no?'
Gaspard was seated, as they all were, at a wrought-iron table on the rear patio overlooking the pool. He pushed back his chair and circled the table to his daughter's seat. From her vantage point there was a spectacular view over the wooded gorge and down into Antibes. Nobody was very interested in the view on this evening.
'I think, Minerva,' he said, hunkering down beside her, 'that we have gone too far in this matter. There are otherworldly forces at work here.
Danger follows these creatures, and I can no longer allow you to place yourself, or others, in harm's way. We fought a noble fight, and I am so proud of you that my heart may burst, but now this must become a government matter.'
'It can't, Papa,' said Minerva petulantly. 'We have no records. No sources. Nothing. All our computer files and disks were destroyed.They even drilled the safe and burned everything in it. I think Artemis Fowl crashed Google and Yahoo. It's hopeless. How would it look, a little girl turning up at the Department of Defence wittering on about monsters in the basement? I need evidence.'
Gaspard stood, his knees cracking. 'Evidence, little one? These are not criminals. I watched you talk with our visitor. He was alert, intelligent,
he had done nothing wrong. He was not an animal. It is one thing to present the Nobel Committee with proof of an invasion through time, but quite another to hound innocent sentient creatures.'
'But, Papa!' Minerva pleaded. 'One more try. I need a month to rebuild my time tunnel model, then I can make a materialization prediction.'
