The battery rod vibrated slightly as it harvested, and it was this vibration that Mulch honed in on now. It took him just over five minutes of steady munching to clear the rock shelf and reach the tip of the battery rod. The vibrations had already loosened the earth, and it was a simple matter for Mulch to clear himself a little cave. He spread saliva on the walls and waited.
Holly piloted the LEP craft through the small shuttle port, overriding the shuttle doors with her Recon access code. Police Plaza hadn’t bothered to change her code because, as far as they were concerned, she was dead.
A sheet of black rain-clouds was spreading shadows across the Italian countryside as they cleared the holographic outcrop that shielded the shuttle port. A light frost coated the reddish clay and a southerly wind lifted the shuttle’s tail.
‘We can’t stay out here for long,’ said Holly, throttling back to a hover. ‘This transporter doesn’t have defences.’
‘We won’t need long,’ said Artemis. ‘Fly in a grid search pattern, as though we’re not certain — where exactly the stealth shuttle is.’
Holly punched some co-ordinates into the flight computer. ‘You’re the genius.’
Artemis turned to Butler, who was sitting, cross-legged, in the aisle. ‘Now, old friend, can you make certain that Opal is looking this way?’
‘Can do,’ said Butler, crawling to the port-side exit. He knuckled the access button and the door slid back. The shuttle bucked slightly as the cabin pressure equalized then settled.
Butler opened his bag of weaponry and selected a handful of metal spheres, roughly the size of tennis balls. He flicked back the safety cap on one, then depressed the button below it with his thumb. The button began to rise to its original position.
‘Ten seconds until the button is flush with the surface. Then it makes a connection.’
‘Thank you for the lecture,’ said Artemis dryly. ‘Though now is hardly the time.’
Butler smiled, tossing the metal sphere into the air. Five seconds later, it exploded, blowing a small crater in the earth below. Scorch lines ran from the crater, giving it the appearance of a black flower.
‘I bet Opal is looking now,’ said Butler, priming the next grenade.
‘I’m sure others will be looking soon. Explosions don’t tend to go unnoticed for long. We are relatively isolated here. The nearest village is approximately ten miles away. If we are lucky, that gives us a ten-minute window. Next grid square, please,
Holly. But not too close, we don’t want to scare them off.’
Fifteen metres below the ground, Mulch Diggums waited in his little DIY cave, watching the tip of the battery rod. As soon as it stopped vibrating, he began working his way upwards through the loose clay. The telescopic rod was warm to the touch, heated by the energy it conducted to the shuttle’s batteries. Mulch used it to help him on his journey, pulling himself upwards, hand over hand. The clay he consumed was broken and aerated from the rod’s drilling action, and Mulch was glad of that extra air.
He converted it to wind, using it to boost himself upwards.
Mulch increased his pace, pumping the air and clay through his recycling passages. Opal would be distracted by the shuttle only for so long, before it occurred to her that it was a diversion. The rod thickened as he went along it, until he arrived at a rubber seal in the belly of the shuttle itself, which was raised on three retractable legs, half a metre off the ground. When the shuttle was in flight, this seal would be covered by a metal panel, but the shuttle was not in flight at the moment and the sensors were turned off.
Mulch climbed out of his tunnel and rehinged his jaw. This was precision work, and he needed fine control of his teeth. Rubber was not a recommended part of a dwarf’s diet and so could not be swallowed. Half-digested rubber could seal up his insides as effectively as a barrel of glue.
It was an awkward bite. Difficult to get a grip. Mulch flattened his cheek against the battery rod, worming upwards until his incisors could get some purchase on the seal. He bore down on the heavy rubber, rotating his jaw in small circles until his upper tooth broke through. Then he ground his teeth, enlarging the rent until there was a ten-centimetre tear in the rubber. Now Mulch could get one side of his mouth into the gap.
He tore off large chunks, taking care to spit them out immediately.
In less than a minute, Mulch had torn a thirty-centimetre-square hole. Just enough for him to squeeze through. Anyone unfamiliar with dwarfs would have bet money that Mulch could never squeeze his well-fed bulk through such a narrow aperture, but they would have lost their cash. Dwarfs have spent millennia escaping from cave-ins, and they have developed the ability to squeeze through tighter holes than this one.
Mulch sucked in his gut and wriggled through the torn seal, head first. He was glad to be out of the faint morning sunlight. Sun was another thing dwarfs do not like; after mere minutes in direct sunlight, a dwarf’s skin will be redder than a boiled lobster’s. He shinned up the battery rod into the shuttle’s engine compartment. Most of the small space was taken up with flat batteries and a hydrogen generator. There was an access hatch overhead that should lead into the cargo bay. Ropes of lights ran the length of the compartment, giving off pale-green light. Any radiation leak from the generator would show up purple. The reason why the light ropes were still working without power was because the illumination was supplied by specially cultivated, decaying algae. Not that Mulch knew any of this, he just thought that the light was very similar to the luminescence from dwarf spittle, and the familiarity made him relax. He relaxed a bit too much, as it happened, allowing a small squib of tunnel gas to escape through his bum-flap. Hopefully nobody would notice that…
Maybe half a minute later, he heard Opal’s voice from above.
‘Now, whoever is passing wind, please stop it, or I will devise a fitting punishment.’
Oops, thought Mulch guiltily. In dwarf circles it is considered almost criminal to allow someone else to be blamed for your air bubbles. Through sheer force of habit,
Mulch almost raised his hand and confessed, but luckily his instinct for self-preservation was stronger than his conscience.
Moments later, the signal came. It was hard to miss. The explosion rocked the entire shuttle twenty degrees off centre. It was time to make his move and trust Artemis when he said that it was almost impossible not to watch an explosion.
Mulch nudged the hatch open a crack with the crown of his head. The dwarf half expected someone to stamp on the hatch, but the cargo bay was empty. Mulch folded the hatch back and crept all the way into the small chamber. There was a lot here to interest him. Crates of ingots, perspex boxes of human currency and antique jewellery hanging from mannequins. Obviously Opal did not intend to be poor in her new role as a human. Mulch snagged a single diamond earring from a nearby bust. So Artemis had told him not to take anything? So what? One earring wouldn’t slow him down.
Mulch popped the pigeon’s-egg-sized diamond into his mouth and swallowed. He would pass that later, when he was on his own. Until then it could lodge in his stomach wall, and come out shinier than it went in.
Another explosion bucked the floor beneath his feet, reminding Mulch to move on. He crossed to the bay door, which was slightly ajar. The next chamber was the passenger area, and it was just as plush as Holly had described. Mulch’s lip rippled at the sight of fur-covered chairs. Repulsive. Beyond the passenger area was the cockpit. Opal and her two friends were clearly visible, staring intently out of the front windscreen.
They were making not a sound, and saying not a word. Just as Artemis had said.
Mulch dropped to his knees and crawled across the lounge’s carpet. He was now completely exposed. If one of the pixies decided to turn around, he would be stranded in the middle of the lounge with nothing but a smile to hide behind.
Just keep going and don’t think about that, Mulch told himself. If Opal catches you, pretend you‘ re lost or have amnesia, or just came out of a coma. Maybe she’ll sympathize, give you some gold and send you on your way. Yeah, right.
Something creaked slightly under Mulch’s knee. The dwarf froze, but the pixies didn’t react to the sound. Presumably that was the lid of the booty box, Opal’s little hidey-hole. Mulch crawled round the box. If there was one thing he didn’t need, it was more creaks.
Two shaped charges lay on a chair, level with Mulch’s nose. He couldn’t believe it. Right there, less than a metre away. This was the one part of the plan that relied on luck. If one of the Brill brothers had the charge tucked under his arm or if there were more charges than he could carry, then they would have to ram the shuttle and hope to disable her. But here they were, almost begging to be stolen. When he was committing a robbery, Mulch
