Artemis Fowl: the time paradox

quickly to the bars, poked the pistol’s muzzle through the mesh and put a dart into the female’s shoulder.

She stumbled backwards, her fantastic orchestra of animal sounds squawking to a halt.

Butler felt a shudder of guilt, which almost caused him to misstep on his way to Artemis’s side. Twice now he had tranked this girl, or whatever she was, without having any idea what the chemicals were doing to her non- human system. His only consolation was that he had loaded small-dosage darts as soon as he had secured the night watchman. She shouldn’t be out too long. A few minutes tops.

The lemur was spooked now. Tiny hands tickling the space before him. The sap cocktail was tempting, but there was danger here of the worst kind and the urge to live was overriding the desire for a tasty treat.

‘No,’ said Artemis, seeing fear cloud the creature’s eyes. ‘It’s not real. There is no danger.’

The little simian was not convinced, as if it could read the boy’s intention in the sharp angles of his face.

The silky sifaka squeaked once, as though pin-pricked, then scampered along Artemis’s arm, over his shoulder and out through the cage door.

Butler lunged for the tail, but missed by a hair. He closed his fingers into a fist.

‘Perhaps it’s time to admit defeat on this one. We are dangerously unprepared and our adversaries have… abilities we know nothing about.’

His charge’s reply was to hurry after the lemur.

‘Artemis, wait,’ sighed Butler. ‘If we must proceed, then I will take the lead.’

‘They want the lemur,’ Artemis panted as he ran. ‘And so it becomes more valuable than it was. When we catch the animal, then we are in a position of power.’

Catching the animal was easier said than done. The lemur was incredibly agile and found purchase on the smoothest of surfaces. It darted without a wobble along a metal railing, leaping three metres to the lower branches of a potted palm and from there jumping to the compound wall.

‘Shoot!’ hissed Artemis.

It occurred to Butler briefly that he did not care for Artemis’s expression — almost cruel, his brow creased where a ten-year-old’s brow should not have creases — but he would worry about that later; for now he had an animal to sedate.

Butler was quick but the silky sifaka was quicker. In a flash of fur it scaled the wall and dropped outside into the night, leaving a blurred white jet stream in its wake.

‘Wow,’ said Butler, almost in admiration. ‘That was fast.’

Artemis was not impressed by his bodyguard’s choice of words. ‘Wow? I think this merits more than a wow. Our quarry has escaped and with it the funds for my Arctic expedition.’

At this point Butler was fast losing interest in the lemur. There were other less ignoble ways to raise funds. Butler shuddered to think of the ribbing he would have to endure if an account of this night somehow made it to Farmer’s Bar in LA, which was owned by one ex-blue-diamond bodyguard and frequented by many more.

But, in spite of his distaste for the mission, Butler’s sense of loyalty forced him to share a fact that the park director had mentioned earlier when Artemis was busy studying the alarm system.

‘There is something that I know, which you may not know,’ he said archly.

Artemis was not in the mood for games. ‘Oh, really. And what would that be?’

‘Lemurs are tree creatures,’ replied Butler. ‘That little guy is spooked and he’s going to climb the biggest tree he can find, even if it isn’t actually a tree. If you see what I mean.’

Artemis saw immediately, which wasn’t difficult as the huge structures cast a lattice of moon shadows over the entire compound.

‘Of course, old friend,’ he said, his frown crease disappearing. ‘The pylons.’

Things were going disastrously wrong for Artemis the elder. Mulch was injured, Holly was unconscious again- feet sticking out of the dwarf’s hole — and he himself was fast running out of ideas. The deafening clamour of a hundred endangered species going berserk was not helping his concentration.

The animals are going ape, he thought. Then: What a time to develop a sense of humour.

All he could do was prioritize.

I need to get Holly out of here, he realized. That is the most important thing.

Mulch moaned, rolling on to his back, and Artemis saw that there was a bleeding gash on his forehead.

He stumbled to the dwarf’s side. ‘I imagine you’re in great pain,’ he said. ‘It’s to be expected with such a laceration.’ Bedside manner was not one of Artemis’s strong suits. ‘You will have a rather large scar, but then looks are not really important to you.’

Mulch squinted at Artemis through a narrowed eye. ‘Are you trying to be funny? Oh, my God, you’re not. That was actually the nicest thing you could think of to say.’

He dabbed at his bloody forehead with a finger. ‘Ow. That hurts.’

‘Of course.’

‘I will have to seal it. You know all about this dwarf talent, I suppose.’

‘Naturally,’ said Artemis, keeping a straight face. ‘I’ve seen it a dozen times.’

‘I doubt it,’ grunted Mulch, plucking a wiggling beard hair from his chin. ‘But I don’t have much choice, now do I? With the LEP elf in dreamland, I won’t be getting any magical help from that quarter.’

Artemis heard a rustling in the undergrowth at the rear of the cage. ‘You’d better hurry it up. I think the gorilla is overcoming its fear of fairies.’

Wincing, Mulch introduced the beard hair to his gash. It took off like a tadpole, poking through the skin, stitching the flaps together. Though he groaned and shuddered, Mulch managed to stay conscious.

When the hair had finished its work, and the wound was tied up tighter than a fly in a ball of spider’s web, Mulch spat on his hand and rubbed the gooey mess on to the wound.

‘All sealed,’ he proclaimed, then upon seeing the glint in Artemis’s eye: ‘Don’t get any ideas, Mud Boy. This only works on dwarfs, and, what’s more, my beard hair only works on me. You poke one of my lovelies into your skin and all you’ll get is an infection.’

The rustling in the undergrowth grew louder, and Artemis Fowl decided to forego further information, which was almost unheard of for him.

‘Time we were off. Can you seal the tunnel behind us?’

‘I can bring the whole lot down easy as pie. You’d better take the lead though, there are better ways to go than being buried alive in… shall we say, recyclings. Need I say more?’

There was no need to say another syllable. Artemis jumped into the hole, grabbed Holly’s shoulders and began dragging her down the tunnel, past the blobs of luminous spittle towards the proverbial light at the end. It was like travelling through space towards the Milky Way.

The sounds of his own body were amplified. Gulping breath, drumming heartbeat, the bend and creak of muscle and sinew.

Holly rolled along easily, her suit hissing on the rough surface like a nest of vipers. Or maybe there were snakes down here, the way Artemis’s luck was going.

I am trying to do something good for a change, he reminded himself. And this is how the Fates reward me. A life of crime was infinitely easier.

Surface noise was amplified by the tunnel’s acoustics. The gorilla sounded furious now. Artemis could hear the slap of fists on chest and an enraged huffing.

He realizes he has been tricked.

His theorizing was cut short by Mulch’s appearance in the tunnel, the spittle bandage on his forehead casting a zombie glow on his face.

‘Gorilla coming,’ he said as he gulped down lungfuls of air. ‘Gotta go.’

Artemis heard twin thumps as the gorilla landed on the tunnel floor. The huge simian roared a challenge down the hole and the noise grew in ferocity with every metre it travelled.

Holly moaned and Artemis pulled harder on her shoulders.

Mulch sucked down air as fast as he could, bundling Artemis and Holly deeper into the tunnel. Twenty metres