Artemis Fowl: the time paradox

Holly was understandably dubious. ‘Five minutes? Even the great Artemis Fowl might have trouble breaking out of a steel box in five minutes.’

Artemis closed his eyes, concentrating. Trying to ignore his cramped surroundings and the sheaves of hair brushing his cheeks, and the itch of bristles on his chin.

‘Face it, Artemis,’ said Holly impatiently. ‘We’re stuck. Even Mulch Diggums would probably struggle with a lock like that if he happened to stroll by.’

Artemis’s brow flickered, irritated by this interruption, but then a smile spread across his face, made eerie by the stark lighting.

‘Mulch Diggums strolling by,’ he whispered. ‘What are the chances of that?’

‘Zero,’ said Holly. ‘Absolutely none. I would bet my pension on it.’

At that moment something or someone tapped on the boot door, from the outside.

Holly rolled her eyes. ‘No. Not even you …’

Artemis’s smile was smug beyond belief. ‘Just how large is your pension?’

‘I do not believe it. I refuse to believe it. It is impossible.’

More taps on the door now, followed by a delicate scraping and a muted swear word.

‘What a guttural voice,’ said Artemis. ‘Very like a dwarf’s.’

‘It could be Butler,’ argued Holly, irritated by Artemis’s self-satisfied expression.

‘Swearing in Gnommish. Hardly.’

More metallic noises from the outside world.

Shhhnick. Chunk. Clackack.

And the boot’s lid swung upwards, revealing a slice of starry night with the glinting silhouette of a gigantic pylon behind it. A bedraggled head popped into the space, features smeared with mud and worse. This was a face that only a mother could love, and then perhaps only if her sight were failing. Dark, close-set eyes peered out from above a dense beard that shivered slightly like seaweed in a current. The creature’s teeth were large, square and not made any more appealing by the large insect wriggling between two molars.

It was, of course, Mulch Diggums.

The dwarf snagged the unfortunate insect with his tongue, then chewed it delicately.

‘Ground beetle,’ he said with relish. ‘Leistus montanus. Nice bouquet, solid earthy shell, then, once the carapace cracks, a veritable explosion of flavours on the palate.’

He swallowed the unfortunate creature, then funnelled a mighty burp though his flapping lips.

‘Never burp when you’re tunnelling,’ he advised Artemis and Holly, as casually as though they were sitting round a cafe table. ‘Dirt coming down, air coming up. Not a good idea.’

Holly knew Mulch well. This chit-chat was simply for distraction while he took a peek around.

‘And now, to business,’ said the dwarf finally, discarding the dead beard hair he had used to pick the lock. ‘I seem to have a human and an elf trapped in a car. So I ask myself, should I let ’em out?’

‘And what do you answer yourself?’ asked Artemis with barely contained impatience.

Mulch’s black pebble eyes danced in the moonlight. ‘So, the Mud Boy understands Gnommish. Interesting. Well, understand this, human. I let you out as soon as I get my money.’

Ah, thought Holly. There is money involved. Somehow these two have set up a deal.

Holly had endured her prison for long enough.

Mulch is not yet my friend, she thought, so there’s no need to be polite.

She drew a knee to her chin, tugging on it with both hands for an extra pound of elastic force.

Mulch realized what she was about to do. ‘Hey, elf. No-’

Which was as far as he got before his face was batted with the boot door. The dwarf tumbled backwards into the hole he had climbed out of, sending up an oof of wind and dirt.

Holly clambered over Artemis to the fresh air. She gulped down great gasps, chest out, face to the sky.

‘Sorry,’ she said, between breaths. ‘That space is tiny. I don’t like tiny.’

‘Claustrophobic?’ asked Artemis, rolling from the boot.

Holly nodded. ‘I used to be. I thought I had overcome it. Lately, though …’

There was a commotion in the dwarf hole. A blue riot of swearing and a scuffling in the earth.

Holly quickly recovered herself and leaped into the pit, tackling Mulch before he could unhinge his jaw and disappear.

‘He could be useful,’ she grunted, bundling the protesting dwarf up the incline. ‘And he has already seen us, so the damage has been done.’

‘That’s a pincer hold,’ exclaimed Mulch. ‘You’re LEP.’

He twisted round, snagging Holly’s wig with his beard hair. ‘I know you. Holly Short. Captain Holly Short. One of Julius Root’s pet Rottweilers.’

Suddenly the dwarf’s already creased brow wrinkled further in confusion.

‘But this is impossible.’

Before Artemis could instruct Holly not to ask, she went ahead and did it.

‘Why is it impossible, Mulch?’

Mulch did not reply, but his eyes betrayed him, glancing guiltily over his shoulder at a scuffed Tekfab backpack. Holly deftly spun the dwarf round, opening the bag’s main compartment.

‘Quite a treasure trove we have here,’ she said, rummaging in the backpack. ‘Medi-kit, rations, adhesive com-pads. And look, an old Omnitool.’ Then she recognized the inscription laser-etched into the base. ‘It’s my old Omnitool.’

In spite of their years of friendship, Holly turned the full force of her anger on Mulch.

‘Where did you get this?’ she shouted. ‘How did you get it?’

‘A present,’ offered Mulch lamely. ‘From my… eh …’ He squinted to read the writing on the base. ‘From my mother. She always called me Holly, because of my, erm, prickly personality.’

Holly was angrier than Artemis had ever seen her. ‘Tell me, Diggums. The truth!’

Mulch thought about fighting. It was in the curve of his fingers and the baring of his teeth, but the moment passed quickly and the dwarf’s natural passive nature surfaced.

‘I stole all this stuff from Tara,’ he admitted. ‘I’m a thief, aren’t I? But, in my defence, I had a difficult childhood, which led to low self-esteem, which I projected on to others, and punished them by stealing their possessions. So, in a very real way, I am the victim here. And I forgive me.’

Mulch’s trademark waffle reminded Holly of the friend he would become and her anger evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. She traced the laser inscription with a fingertip.

‘My mother gave me this,’ she said quietly. ‘Most reliable Omnitool I ever had. Then, one night in Hamburg, my fugitive locked himself in a car. So I reached for my Omnitool and it was gone. The target was apprehended by humans, I lost my first fugitive and Commander Root had to send in an entire team of techies to clean up. It was a disaster. And all this time it was you.’

Mulch was puzzled. ‘All this time? I stole this from a belt in a locker in Tara an hour ago. I saw you there. What’s going on here …’ Then Mulch blinked and clapped his hairy palms. ‘Oh, bless my bum-flap. You’re time travellers.’

Holly realized that she had said too much. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

The dwarf was actually doing a little jig now. ‘No. No, it all adds up. You’re talking about future events in the past tense. You sent back a note so that I would come and rescue you here and now.’ Mulch clapped his hands to his cheeks in mock horror. ‘What you’re doing is so much more illegal than anything I could ever do. Imagine the reward I would get for turning you over to Julius Root.’

‘Sent back a note?’ scoffed Holly. ‘That’s absurd, isn’t it, Artemis?’

‘Most certainly,’ said Artemis. ‘But, if someone were to send back a note from the future, where and when would they send it to?’

Mulch jerked a thumb towards Holly. ‘There’s a junction box beside her locker. Looked like it hadn’t been touched for years. I was checking it out because sometimes they have some valuable tech in ’em. Not this one,