More cameras. Quite a lot of them, in fact. Mulch studied the lenses' sweep. Four were surveying
the general floorspace, but another three were fixed.
'Foaly? You there?' whispered the dwarf.
'No!' The typical sarcastic reply. 'I have much better things to do than worry about the collapse of
civilization as we know it.'
'Yes, thank you. Don't let my life being in danger interrupt your merriment.'
'I'll try not to.'
'I have a challenge for you.'
Foaly was instantly interested. 'Really? Go on.'
Mulch pointed his gaze at the recessed cameras, half hidden in the swirling architrave. 'I need to
know where those three cameras are pointing. Exactly.'
Foaly laughed. 'That's not a challenge. Those old video systems emit faint ion beams. Invisible to
the naked eye, of course, but not with your iris-cam.'
The hardware in Mulch's eye flickered and sparked.
'Oww!'
'Sorry. Small charge.'
'You could have warned me.'
'I'll give you a big kiss later, you baby. I thought dwarfs were tough.'
'We are tough. I'll show you just how tough when I get back.'
Root's voice interrupted the posturing. 'You won't be showing anyone anything, convict, except
perhaps where the toilet is in your cell. Now, what do you see?'
Mulch looked at the room again through his ion-sensitive eye. Each camera was emitting a faint
beam, like the last evening sunrays. The rays pooled on a portrait of Artemis Fowl Senior.
'Not behind the picture. Oh, please.'
Mulch placed his ear against the picture glass. Nothing electrical. Not alarmed then. Just to be
sure, he sniffed the frame's edge. No plastic or copper. Wood, steel and glass. Some lead in the
paint. He curled a nail behind the frame and pulled. The picture came away smoothly, hinged on the
side. And behind it. A safe.
'It's a safe,' said Foaly.
'I know that, you idiot. I'm trying to concentrate here! If you want to help, tell me the
combination.'
'No problem. Oh, by the way, there's another little shock coming. Maybe the big baby would like
to suck his thumb for comfort.'
'Foaly. I'm going to…Owww!'
'There. That's the X-ray on.'
Mulch squinted at the safe. It was incredible. He could see right into the works. Tumblers and
catches stood out in shadowy relief. He blew on his hairy fingers and twisted the combination dial.
In seconds the safe lay open before him.
'Oh,' he said, disappointed.
'What is it?'
'Nothing. Just human currency. Nothing of value.'
'Leave it,' ordered Root. 'Try another room. Get going.'
Mulch nodded. Another room. Before his time ran out. But something was niggling at him. If this
guy was so clever, why did he put the safe behind a painting? Such a cliché. Totally against form.
No. Something wasn't right here. They were being duped somehow.
Mulch closed the safe, swinging the portrait back into position. It swung smoothly, weightless on
the hinges. Weightless. He swung the picture out again. And back in.
'Convict. What are you doing?'
'Shut up, Julius! I mean, quiet a moment, Commander.'
Mulch squinted at the frame's profile. A bit thicker than normal. Quite a bit thicker. Even taking
the box frame into account. Five centimetres. He ran a nail down the heavy cartridge backing and
stripped it away to reveal ...
'Another safe.'
A smaller one. Custom-made, obviously.
'Foaly. I can't see through this.'
'Lead-lined. You're on your own, burglar boy. Do what you do best.'
'Typical,' muttered Mulch, flattening his ear to the cold steel.
He twirled the dial experimentally. Nice action. The clicks were muted by the lead, he would
have to concentrate. The upside was that something this thin could have only three tumblers at the
most.
Mulch held his breath and twisted the dial, one cog at a time. To the normal ear, even with
amplification, the clicks would have seemed uniform. But to Mulch, each cog had a distinctive
signature and when a ratchet caught, it was so loud as to be deafening.
'One,' he breathed.
'Hurry it up, convict. Your time is running out.'
'You interrupted to tell me that? I can see now how you made commander, Julius.'
'Convict. I'm going to…'
But it was no use. Mulch had removed his earpiece, slipping it into his pocket. Now he could
devote his full attention to the task at hand.
'Two.'
There was noise outside. In the hall. Someone was coming. About the size of an elephant by the
size of it. No doubt this was the man mountain that had made mincemeat of the Retrieval Squad.
Mulch blinked a bead of sweat from his eye. Concentrate. Concentrate. The cogs clicked by.
Millimetre by millimetre. Nothing was catching. The floor seemed to be hopping gently, though he
could be imagining it.
Click, click. Come on. Come on. His fingers were slick with perspiration, the dial slipping
between them. Mulch wiped them on his jerkin. 'Now, baby, come on. Talk to me.' Click. Thunk.
'Yes!'
Mulch twisted the handle. Nothing. Still an obstruction. He ran a fingertip over the metal face.
There. A small irregularity. A micro keyhole. Too small for your average lock pick. Time for a little
trick he'd learned in prison. Quickly though, his stomach was bubbling like stew in the oven, and the
footsteps were getting closer.
Selecting a sturdy chin hair, Mulch fed it gently into the tiny hole. When the tip reappeared, he
pulled the root from his chin. The hair immediately stiffened, retaining the shape of the lock's
interior.
Mulch held his breath and twisted. Smooth as a goblin's lie, the lock opened. Beautiful. At
moments like these, it was almost worth all the jail time.
The kleptomaniac dwarf swung back the little door. Beautiful work. Almost worthy of a fairy
forge. Light as a wafer. Inside was a small chamber. And in the chamber was ...
'Oh, gods above,' breathed Mulch.
Then things came to a head rather rapidly. The shock that Mulch had experienced communicated
itself to his bowels, and they decided the excess air had got to go. Mulch knew the symptoms. Jelly
legs, bubbling cramps, wobbly behind. In the seconds remaining to him, he snatched the object
from the safe and, leaning over, he clasped his knees for support.
The constrained wind had built itself up to mini-cyclone intensity and could not be constrained.
And so it exited. Rather abrasively. Blowing open Mulch's bum-flap and slamming into the rather
large gentleman who had been sneaking up behind him.
Artemis was glued to the monitors. This was the time when things traditionally went wrong for
kidnappers - the third quarter of operations. Having been successful thus far, the abductors tended
to relax, light up a few cigarettes, get chatty with their hostages. Next thing they knew, they were
flat on their faces with a dozen guns pointed at the backs of their heads. Not Artemis Fowl. He
didn't make mistakes.
No doubt the fairies were reviewing the tapes of their first negotiating session, searching for
anything that would give them a way in. Well, it was there all right. All they had to do was look.
Buried just deep enough to make it look accidental.
It was possible that Commander Root would try another ruse. He was a wily one, no doubt about
it. One who would not take kindly to being bested by a child. He would bear watching.
The mere thought of Root gave Artemis the shivers. He decided to check in again. He inspected
the monitors.
Juliet was still in the kitchen, scrubbing at the sink. Washing the vegetables.
Captain Short was on her bunk. Quiet as the grave. No more bed banging. Perhaps he had been
wrong about her. Perhaps there was no plan.
Butler stood at his post outside Holly's cell. Odd. He should have been on his rounds by now.
Artemis grabbed a walkie-talkie.
'Butler?'
'Roger, base. Receiving.'
'Shouldn't you be on your rounds?'
There was a pause. 'I am, Artemis. Patrolling the main landing. Coming up on the safe room. I'm
waving at you right now.'
Artemis glanced at the landing cameras. Deserted. From every angle. Definitely no waving
manservant. He studied the monitors, counting under his breath .. .There! Every ten seconds, a
slight jump. On every screen.
'A loop!' he cried, jumping from his chair. 'They're feeding us a loop!'
Over the speaker, he could hear Butler's pace quickening to a run.
'The safe room!'
Artemis's stomach dropped into queasy hell. Duped! He, Artemis Fowl, had been duped, even
though he'd known it was coming. Inconceivable. It was arrogance that had done it. His own
blinding arrogance, and now the entire plan could collapse around his ears.
He switched the walkie-talkie to Juliet's band. It was a pity now that he'd taken the house's
intercom off-line, but it didn't operate on a secure frequency.
'Juliet?'
'Receiving.'
'Where are you right now?'
'In the kitchen. Wrecking my nails on this grater.'
'Leave it, Juliet. Check on the prisoner.'
'But, Artemis, the carrot sticks will dry out!'
'Leave it, Juliet!' shouted Artemis. 'Drop everything and check on the prisoner!'
Juliet obediently dropped everything, including the walkie-talkie. She'd sulk for days now. Never
mind. There was no time to worry about a teenage girl's bruised ego. He had more important matters
to tend to.
Artemis depressed the master switch on the computerized surveillance system. His only chance
of purging the loop was a complete reboot. After several agonizing moments of screen snow, the
monitors jumped and settled. Things were not as they had seemed only seconds before.
There was a grotesque thing in the safe room. It had apparently discovered the secret
compartment. Not only that but it had managed to open the whisper lock. Amazing. Butler had it
covered though. He was sneaking up behind the creature, and any moment now the intruder would
find itself nose down in the carpet.
Artemis switched his attention to Holly. The elf was back to bed banging. Slamming the frame
down over and over again, as though she could ...
It hit Artemis then, like a blast from a water cannon. If Holly had somehow smuggled an acorn in
here, then one square centimetre of ground would be enough. If Juliet left that door open ...
'Juliet!' he shouted into the walkie-talkie. 'Juliet! Don't go in there!'
But it was useless. The girl's walkie-talkie lay buzzing on the kitchen floor, and Artemis could
only watch helplessly as Butler's sister strode towards the cell door, muttering about carrots.
'The safe room!' exclaimed Butler, quickening his pace. His instinct was to go in all guns blazing,
but training took over. Fairy hardware was most definitely superior to his own, and who knew how
many barrels were aimed at the other side of that door right now. No, caution was most definitely
the best part of valour in this particular situation.
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