Artemis Fowl and the Atlantis Complex

umbilical passage. “No flame near the umbilical. This is a pressurized tube with an oxygen-helium mix, heavy on the oxygen because of the pressure. One spark in here and first we explode, then the tube ruptures and the ocean squashes us flat.”

One by one they stepped into the umbilical. It was an incredible construction. A double-skinned tube of transparent super-tough plastic, strengthened with a wrap of octagonal wire mesh. Air pumps hummed loudly along its length, and light orbs drew deep-sea creatures to it, including Artemis’s giant squid, which had wrapped itself around the umbilical’s central span and was gnawing the wire frame with its beak. Its chitin-lined suckers scraped the plastic, smearing long welts along the tube.

“Don’t worry,” said Foaly confidently. “That creature can’t get through. We’ve done a thousand stress tests.”

“With actual giant squid?” asked Juliet, understandably concerned.

“No,” admitted Foaly.

“So just computer tests, then?”

“Absolutely not,” said Foaly, offended. “We used a normal squid and a tiny umbilical model. It worked quite well until one of my dwarf lab assistants fancied some calamari.”

Juliet shuddered. “It’s just that I have a thing about giant squid.”

“Don’t we all?” said Foaly, and clopped past her down the umbilical.

The passage was fifty yards long with a slight incline at either end. The walkway beneath their feet was coated with a slightly tacky substance to prevent any accidental sparking, and there were fire-extinguishing scatter bombs at regular intervals that would automatically coat the tube with powder in the event of a fire breaking out.

Foaly pointed at one of the fire-extinguishing bombs. “In all honesty, those are for show. If so much as a spark gets loose in here, not even the squid is going to survive.”

They proceeded across to the aquanaut, feeling the cold of the ocean radiate through the walls, breathing the sharp oxygen-rich air. The Nostremius hospital ship loomed above, four stories high, curved green walls dotted by a thousand glowing portholes, anchored to the seabed by a dozen bus-sized anchors. Umbilicals stretched from several ports, and shadowy figures could be seen shuffling across from their ships to the Nostremius. It was a somber, surreal image.

Foaly led, carrying Artemis, Mulch, and a snoring Bobb Ragby, complaining every step of the way.

“Passengers. Centaurs don’t carry passengers. Just because we have a horse’s torso doesn’t mean we have a horse’s temperament. This is demeaning, that’s what it is.”

Neither Juliet nor Butler took any notice. They were in a dangerous stretch right now, and any confrontation had to be quickly contained or it could mean a watery grave for them all.

On Foaly’s back, Artemis moaned and stirred. Butler patted his shoulder.

“You just stay asleep, young man. No need to wake up now.”

As much respect as Butler had for Artemis’s abilities, he couldn’t think how they could help in this situation, especially with that angry-looking rune burned into his neck.

They were two-thirds of the way across when the hatch on the Nostremius slid open, and Holly stepped through, followed by N^o1.

There was no emotion in Holly’s eyes, but she calmly assessed the situation and drew the Neutrino from her holster, taking a quick bead on Butler’s forehead. From the look on her face, she could have been about to shoot a dart at a fairground target.

“No, Captain Short,” said Turnball’s voice from behind Butler. “No guns in here.”

Turnball stood at the entrance to the ambulance with Unix, as ever, at one shoulder, and Ark Sool hovering at the other.

Juliet was on rear-guard duty. “It’s the jolly pirate,” she called to her brother. “And his merry idiots. I think that without guns we’re in pretty good shape. Should I go over there and beat some respect for life into them?”

Butler held up two fingers. Wait.

This was a nightmare scenario for any bodyguard: stuck in the middle of a transparent tube, several miles underwater, with a murdering band of fugitives at one end and an enthralled but still highly skilled police officer at the other.

Poor N^o1 had no idea what kind of drama he had stepped into.

“Holly, what’s going on? Are we in the middle of one of your big adventures? Should I zap someone?”

Holly stood impassively waiting for instructions, but Butler heard what N^o1 had said. “No magic, N^o1. One spark could blow up this entire platform.”

N^o1 sighed. “Can’t you people ever just go on a picnic or something? Do there always have to be explosions?”

Artemis moaned again, then slid from behind Mulch off Foaly’s back onto the walkway.

Standing in the doorway of the stolen shuttle ambulance, gazing down the umbilical toward Butler, Turnball realized he had a few marked cards in the deck. “Ah,” he said. “My little genius awakes. This should make our game interesting.”

Butler turned sideways to make himself a smaller target. There were to be no guns in this showdown, but there could be blades. “Go back inside,” he called to N^o1. “Go in and shut the hatch.”

The demon warlock tapped Holly’s shoulder. “Should I go in, Holly? Would that be the best thing to do?”

Holly did not answer, but with that touch, N^o1 felt the rune spell that squatted like a parasite on her mind. It seemed purple to him, and malignant, and somehow aware. In his imagination, the reptilian rune crouching on Holly’s brain snarled at him and nipped with venomous teeth.

“Oh,” said N^o1, withdrawing his finger sharply.

I could undo the spell, he thought. But it would be delicate work to avoid brain damage, and there would definitely be sparks.

He took a slow step backward, but Holly quickly walked around him and smashed the heel of her hand into the door mechanism, sealing it for as long as it took for maintenance to get a fairy down there. Which would be way too long.

“No running away, young Master Demon,” called Turnball. “I have need of your magic.”

My magic, thought N^o1. There must be something I can do. The mesmer doesn’t require any sparks.

“Listen to me, Holly,” said the demon warlock, his voice multilayered with magic. “Look into my eyes.”

Which was as far as he got before Holly brought the edge of her hand down in a chopping motion that hit N^o1 accurately in the gap between the armor plates on his chest and neck. Right in the windpipe. The demon collapsed to the ground, gasping. It would be minutes before he could do as much as squeak.

Turnball laughed cruelly. “Rune trumps mesmer, would say.”

Butler tried to ignore the more extreme circumstances, such as the explosive gas they were breathing and the giant squid giving him the evil eye from outside the umbilical tube, and treat the situation as a common alley brawl.

I have been in this situation a dozen times. Admittedly, we are flanked, but Juliet and I could take these and a dozen more. Holly can fight, but she is mesmerized, and that will slow her down. Why is Turnball so confident with only a gnome and a sprite by his side?

“Ready, sister?” he said.

“Say the word.”

“I’ll take Turnball and his friends. You contain Holly without doing any damage if you can manage it.”

“Okay, brother.”

“What should I do?” asked Foaly, trying to keep the whinny out of his voice.

“Stand over Artemis and Mulch. Keep them safe.”

“Very well, Butler,” said the centaur, feeling utterly helpless, as he always did in violent situations. “You can count on me.”

Butler and Juliet switched sides, touching hands briefly on the way past.

“Be careful. Holly is quick.”

“You too. I don’t trust that Turnball guy.”