cheeks were ballooned to comical proportions, though there was nothing funny about falling hundreds of metres to a certain death.
No! said Artemis's iron core. I will not let this be the end.
With a grim and physical determination that he must have picked up from Butler, Artemis raised his arms and grabbed No.1 's arm. The object he sought was right there, almost in his face, and yet it seemed impossible to reach.
Impossible or not, 1 must reach it.
It was like trying to push against the skin of a giant balloon, but push Artemis did.
The ground rushed up from below, smaller skyscrapers jutting up like spears. And still Artemis pushed.
Finally, his fingers closed round No.1's silver bracelet.
Goodbye, world, he thought. One way or another.
And he ripped the bracelet off, flinging it into the air. Now, the demonkind were no longer anchored to this dimension. For a second there was no obvious reaction to this, but then, just as they were passing between the first of the lower skyscrapers, a revolving purple trapezoid opened in the sky and swallowed them as neatly as a kid catching a Cheerio in his mouth.
Butler staggered back from the window, trying to process what he had seen. Holly's wings had failed, that much was clear, but then what?
What?
It dawned on him suddenly. Artemis must have had a secondary plan,
that boy always did. Artemis wouldn't go to the bathroom without a back-up. So they weren't dead. There was a good chance of that. They had just disappeared into the demon dimension. He would have to keep telling himself that until he believed it.
Butler noticed that Minerva was crying.
'They're all dead, aren't they? Because of me.'
Butler placed a hand on her shoulder. 'If they were all dead, it would be because of you, but they're not — Artemis has everything under control.
Now, chin up, we have to talk our way out of here, daughter.'
Minerva frowned. 'Daughter?'
Butler winked, though he felt anything but cheery. 'Yes, daughter.'
Seconds later a squad of Taiwanese regular police heaved open the door, flooding the room with blue and grey uniforms. Butler found himself looking down the barrels of a dozen police special pistols. Most of these barrels were wobbling slightly.
'No, you dolts,' squealed Mr Lin, threading his way through the policemen, slapping at their gun arms. 'Not that one. He is my good friend. Those other ones, the unconscious ones. They are the ones who broke in here; they knocked me down. It is a miracle my friend and his. .'
'Daughter,' prompted Butler.
'And his daughter were not harmed.'
Then the curator noticed his demolished exhibit and faked a faint. When no one rushed to aid him, he picked himself up, went off into a corner and had a little cry.
An inspector, who wore his gun cowboy-style, ambled across to Butler.
'You did this?'
'No. Not me. We were hiding behind a crate. They blew up the sculpture then started fighting among themselves.'
'Do you have any idea why these people would want to destroy a sculpture?'
Butler shrugged. 'I think they think they're anarchists. Who knows with these people.'
'They have no ID,' said the inspector. 'Not one of them. I find that a bit strange.'
Butler smiled bitterly. After all Billy Kong had done, he would only be prosecuted for property damage. Of course they could mention the kidnapping, but that would lead to weeks, possibly months of red tape in Taiwan. And Butler did not particularly want anyone looking too deeply into his past, or indeed the selection of false passports in his jacket pocket.
Then something struck him. Something about Kong from a conversation back in Nice.
Kong used a kitchen knife on his friend, Foaly had said. There's still a warrant out for him there, under the name Jonah Lee.
Kong was wanted for murder in Taiwan, Butler realized, and there was no statute of limitations on murder.
I heard them talking to that one,' said Butler, pointing to the supine
Billy Kong. 'They called him Mister Lee, or Jonah. He was the boss.'
The inspector was interested. 'Oh, really. Did you hear anything else?
Sometimes the smallest detail can be important.'
Butler frowned, thinking about it. 'One of them said something, I don't even know what it means. .'
'Go on,' urged the inspector.
'He said… let me think. He said, You're not such a tough guy, Jonah.
You haven't notched four barrel in years. What does that mean, notching your barrel!'
The inspector pulled a mobile phone from his pocket. 'It means that man is a murder suspect.' He hit 'one' then speed dial. 'Base? Chan here. I need you to run the name Jonah Lee through records — go back a few years.' He closed the phone. 'Thanks, Mister. .?'
'Arnott,' said Butler. 'Franklin Arnott, New York City.'
He had been using the Arnott passport for several years. It was genuinely rumpled.
'Thanks, Mister Arnott, you may just have caught a murderer.'
Butler blinked. 'A murderer! Wow. Do you hear that, Eloise? Daddy caught a murderer.'
'Well done, Daddy,' said Eloise, looking unhappy with Daddy for some reason.
The inspector turned to pursue his inquiries, then stopped.
'The curator said there was another person. A boy. A friend of yours?'
'Yes. And no. He's my son. Arty.'
'I don't see him around.'
'He just stepped out, but he'll be back.'
'Are you sure?'
Butler's eyes lost their focus. 'Yes, I'm sure. He told me.'
Chapter 13: OUT OF TIME
The journey between dimensions was more violent than Artemis remembered. There was no time to reflect on various scenery changes, and barely time for his senses to register sights, sounds or temperature changes. They were ripped from their own dimension and dragged through wormholes of space and time with only their consciousnesses intact. Only once did they materialize for the briefest second.
The landscape was grey, bleak and pockmarked, and in the distance Artemis could see a blue planet camouflaged by cloud cover.
I'm on the moon, thought Artemis, then they were gone again, drawn by the lure of Hybras.
It was an unnatural feeling, this out-of-body, out-of-mind travel. How am I still aware? thought Artemis. How is any of this possible?
And stranger still, when he concentrated, Artemis could feel the thoughts of the others swirling around him. It was mostly broad emotions, such as fear or excitement. But after a bit of mental twiddling, Artemis detected specific thoughts too.
There was Holly, wondering if her weapon would arrive intact. Typical soldier. And there was No.1, fretting incessantly, not about the journey itself but about someone who would be waiting for him in Hybras.
Abbot. A demon named Abbot.
Artemis reached out and found Qwan floating in the ether. His mind was formidable, juggling complex
