Gudgeon put on his best sincere face. 'Julius, despite what you think, I have only the interests of
the People at heart.'
'One person in particular,' snorted Root.
Gudgeon decided to go for the high moral ground.
'I don't have to stand here listening to this. Every second talking to you is a second wasted.'
Root looked him straight in the eye. 'That's about six hundred years wasted altogether, eh, friend!'
Gudgeon didn't answer. What could he say? Ambition had a price, and that price was friendship.
Gudgeon turned to his squad, a group of hand-picked sprites loyal only to him. 'Get the
hovercage over to the avenue. We don't green-light until I give the word.'
He brushed past Root, eyes looking anywhere except at his erstwhile friend. Foaly wouldn't let
him go without a comment.
'Hey, Gudgeon.'
The Acting Commander couldn't tolerate that tone, not on his first day.
'You watch your mouth, Foaly. No one is indispensable.'
The centaur chuckled. 'Very true. That's the thing about politics, you get one shot.'
Gudgeon was semi-interested in spite of himself.
'I know if it was me,' continued Foaly, 'and I had one chance, just one chance, to book my behind
a seat on that Council, I certainly wouldn't entrust my future to a troll.'
And suddenly Gudgeon's new-found confidence evaporated, replaced by a shiny pallor. He wiped
his brow, hurrying after the departing hovercage.
'See you tomorrow,' Foaly called after him. 'You'll be taking out my trash.'
Root laughed. Possibly the first time one of Foaly's comments had amused him.
'Good man, Foaly.' He grinned. 'Hit that back-stabber where it hurts, right in the ambition.'
'Thanks, Julius.'
The grin disappeared faster than a deep-fried pit slug in the LEP canteen.
'I've warned you about the Julius thing, Foaly. Now get that outside line open again. I want that
gold ready when Gudgeon's plan goes awry. Lobby all my supporters on the Council. I'm pretty sure
Lope's one of mine, and Cahartez, possibly Vinyaya. She's always had a thing for me, devilishly
attractive as I am.'
'You're joking, of course.'
'I never joke,' said Root, and he said it with a straight face.
Holly had a plan, of sorts. Sneak around shielded, reclaim some fairy weaponry, then cause havoc
until Fowl was forced to release her. And if several million Irish pounds' worth of property damage
happened to ensue, well, that was just a bonus.
Holly hadn't felt so good in years. Her eyes blazed with power and there were sparks sizzling
below every centimetre of skin. She had forgotten just how good running hot felt.
Captain Short felt in control now, on the hunt. This was what she was trained to do. When this
affair had started, the advantage had been with the Mud People. But now the boot was on the other
foot. She was the hunter and they were the prey.
Holly scaled the great staircase, ever vigilant for the giant manservant. That was one individual she
wasn't taking any chances with. If those fingers closed around her skull, she was history, helmet or
not, assuming she managed to find a helmet.
The vast house was like a mausoleum - without a single sign of life inside its vaulted rooms.
Spooky portraits though. Each one with Fowl eyes, suspicious and glittering. Holly determined to
torch the lot of them when she recovered her Neutrino 2000. Vindictive perhaps, but totally
justified considering what Artemis Fowl had put her through.
She scaled the steps swiftly, following the curve around to the upper landing. A slot of pale light
peeped from under the last door on the corridor. Holly placed her palm against the wood, feeling for
vibration. Activity all right. Shouting and footsteps. Thundering this way.
Holly jumped back, flattening herself against the velveteen wallpaper. Not a moment too soon. A
hulking shape burst through the doorway and hurtled down the corridor, leaving a maelstrom of air
currents in his wake.
'Juliet!' he shouted, his sister's name hanging in the air long after he had disappeared down the
stairs.
Don't worry, Butler, thought Holly. She's having the time of her life glued to Wrestlemania. But
the open door presented a welcome opportunity. She slipped through before the mechanical arm
could close it again.
Artemis Fowl was waiting, anti-shield filters cobbled on to his sunglasses.
'Good evening, Captain Short,' he began, confidence apparently intact. 'At the risk of sounding
clichéd, I've been expecting you.'
Holly didn't respond, didn't even look her jailer in the eye. Instead she utilized her training to
scan the room, her gaze resting briefly on each surface.
'You are, of course, still bound by the promises made earlier tonight ...'
But Holly wasn't listening, she was sprinting towards a stainless-steel workbench bolted to the far
wall.
'So, basically, our situation hasn't changed. You are still my hostage.'
'Yeah, yeah, yeah,' muttered Holly, running her fingers over the rows of confiscated Retrieval
equipment. She selected a stealth-coated helmet, slipping it over her pointed ears. The pneumatic
pads pumped to cradle her crown. She was safe now. Any further commands given by Fowl meant
nothing through the reflective visor. A wire mike slotted down automatically. Contact was
immediate.
'... on revolving frequencies. Broadcasting on revolving frequencies. Holly, if you can hear me,
take cover.'
Holly recognized Foaly's voice. Something familiar in a crazy situation.
'Repeat.Take cover. Gudgeon is sending in a ...'
'Something I should know?' said Artemis.
'Quiet,' hissed Holly, worried by the tone of Foaly's usually flippant voice.
'I say again, they are sending in a troll to secure your release.'
Holly started. Gudgeon was calling the shots now. Not good news at all.
Fowl interrupted again.
'It's not polite, you know. Ignoring your host.'
Holly snarled. 'Enough is enough.'
She pulled back her fist, fingers curled in a tight bunch. Artemis didn't flinch. Why would he?
Butler always intervened before punches landed. But then something caught his eye, a large figure
running down the stairway on the first-floor monitor. It was Butler.
'That's right, rich boy,' said Holly nastily. 'You're on your own this time.'
And before Artemis's eyes had time to widen, Holly put an extra few kilos of spring in her elbow
and whacked her abductor right on the nose.
'Oof,' he said, collapsing on to his rear end.
'Oh yes! That felt good.'
Holly focused on the voice buzzing in her ear.
'... we've been feeding a loop to the outside cameras, so the humans won't see anything come up
the avenue. But it's on the way, trust me.'
'Foaly. Foaly, come in.'
'Holly? Is that you?'
'The one and only. Foaly, there is no loop. I can see everything that's going on around here.'
'The cunning little ... He must have rebooted the system.'
The avenue was a hive of fairy activity. Gudgeon was there, haughtily directing his team of
sprites. And in the centre of the melee stood a five-metre-tall hovercage, floating on a cushion of air.
The cage was directly before the manor door, and the techies were securing a concussor seal to the
surrounding wall. When activated, several alloy rods in the seal's collar would be detonated
simultaneously, effectively disintegrating the door. When the dust settled, the troll would have only
one place to go: into the manor.
Holly checked the other monitors. Butler had managed to drag Juliet from the cell. They had
ascended from the cellar level and were just crossing the lobby. Right in the line of fire.
'D'Arvit,' she swore, crossing to the work surface.
Artemis was propped on his elbows. 'You hit me,' he said in disbelief.
Holly strapped on a set of Hummingbirds.
'That's right, Fowl. And there's plenty more where that came from. So stay right where you are, if
you know what's good for you.'
For once in his life, Artemis realized that he didn't have a snappy answer. He opened his mouth,
waiting for his brain to supply the customary pithy comeback. But nothing arrived.
Holly slipped the Neutrino 2000 into its holster.
'That's right, Mud Boy. Playtime's over. Time for the professionals to take over. If you're a good
boy I'll buy you a lolly when I come back.'
And when Holly was long gone, soaring beneath the hallway's ancient oak beams, Artemis said, 'I
don't like lollipops.'
It was a woefully inadequate response, and Artemis was instantly appalled with himself. Pathetic
really: I don't like lollipops. No self-respecting criminal mastermind would be caught dead even
using the word lollipops. He really would have to put together a database of witty responses for
occasions such as this.
It was quite possible that Artemis would have sat like that for some time, totally detached from
the situation at hand, had not the front door imploded, shaking the manor to its foundations. A
thing like that is enough to knock the daydreams from anyone's head.
A sprite alighted before Acting Commander Gudgeon.
'The collar is in place, sir.'
Gudgeon nodded. 'Are you sure it's tight, Captain? I don't want that troll coming out the wrong
way.'
'Tighter 'n a goblin's wallet. There's not a bubble of air getting through that seal. Tighter 'n a
stink-worm's -'
'Very well, Captain,' interrupted Gudgeon hurriedly, before the sprite could complete his graphic
analogy.
Beside them the hovercage shook violently, almost toppling the container from its air cushion.
'We better blow that sucker, Commander. If we don't let him outta there soon, my boys're gonna
spend the next week scraping ...'
'Fine, Captain, fine. Blow it. Blow it for goodness' sake.'
Gudgeon hurried behind the blast shield, scribbling a note on his palmtop's LCD screen. Memo:
Remind the sprites to watch their language. After all, I am a Commander now.
The foul-mouthed captain in question turned to the hovercage's cab driver.
'Blow 'er, Chix. Blow the door off its damn hinges.'
'Yessir. Off its damn hinges. That's a roger.'
Gudgeon winced. There'd be a general meeting tomorrow. First thing. By then he'd have the
commander's icon on his lapel. Even a sprite might be less likely to curse, with the triple acorn logo
winking in his face.
Chix pulled down his shrapnel goggles, even though the cab had a quartz windscreen. The goggles
were cool. Girls loved them. Or so the driver thought. In his mind's eye he saw himself as a
grim-faced daredevil. Sprites were like that. Give a fairy a pair of wings and he thinks he's God's gift
to women. But Chix Verbil's ill-fated quest to impress the dames is, once again, another story. In
this particular tale, he serves only one purpose. And that is to melodramatically push the detonate
button. Which he does, with great aplomb.
Two dozen controlled charges detonated in their chambers, driving two dozen alloy cylinders out
of their mounts at over a thousand miles per hour. Upon impact, each bar pulverized the contact
area plus the surrounding fifteen centimetres, effectively blowing the door off its damn hinges. As
the captain would say.
When the dust settled, the handlers winched back the containment wall inside the cage and began
hammering the side panels with the flats of their hands.
Gudgeon peeped out from behind the blast shield.
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