Artemis Fowl and the Eternity Code

Chips shrugged. ‘Hey. I had an Uncle Robert and everyone called him Bobby. That don’t make no sense neither.’

 

 

Pex rolled his eyes. ‘It’s pec-tor-als, moron. Pex is short for pectorals, on account of me having big chest muscles.’

 

In the pit, Mulch groaned. Listening to this mindless banter was almost as bad as having to dig a hole with a shovel. Mulch was tempted to deviate from the plan and launch himself into the flaky soil. But Artemis did not want any display of fairy powers at this stage of the proceedings. If he took off, and these goons escaped without being mesmerized, then Spiro’s paranoia would be driven up another notch.

 

On the surface, Chips was eager to continue the game.

 

‘Guess why they call me Chips,’ he said, hiding the bag of chips behind his back.

 

Pex kneaded his forehead. He knew this one.

 

‘Don’t tell me,’ he said. ‘I can work it out.’

 

Mulch poked his head from the hole. ‘It’s because he eats chips, you idiot. Chips eats chips. You two are the thickest Mud Men I have ever met. Why don’t you just kill me? At least I won’t have to listen to your drivel.’

 

Pex and Chips were stunned. With all the mental exercise, they had almost forgotten about the little man in the hole. Plus, they were unaccustomed to prospective victims saying anything besides, ‘Oh no, please, God, no.’

 

Pex leaned over the grave’s lip. ‘What do you mean drivel?’

 

‘I mean that whole Chips Pex thing.’

 

Pex shook his head. ‘No, I mean what does the word “drivel” mean? I’ve never heard that one.’

 

Mulch was delighted to explain. ‘It means rubbish, garbage, claptrap, twaddle, baloney. Is that clear enough for you?’

 

Chips recognized the last one. ‘Baloney? Hey, that’s an insult! Are you insulting us, little man?’

 

Mulch clasped his hands in mock prayer. ‘Finally, a breakthrough.’

 

The musclemen were uncertain how to react to actual abuse. There were only two people alive who insulted them regularly: Arno Blunt and Jon Spiro. But that was part of the job – you just ignored that by turning up the music in your head.

 

‘Do we have to listen to his smart mouth?’ Pex asked his partner.

 

‘I don’t think so. Maybe I should phone Mister Blunt.’

 

Mulch groaned. If stupidity were a crime, these two would be public enemies one and two.

 

‘What you should do is kill me. That was the idea, wasn’t it? Just kill me and get it over with.’

 

‘What do you think, Chips? Should we just kill him?’

 

Chips chewed on a handful of barbecue Ruffles. ‘Yeah. Course. Orders is orders.’

 

‘But I wouldn’t just kill me,’ interjected Mulch.

 

‘You wouldn’t?’

 

‘Oh no. After the way I just insulted your intelligence? No, I deserve something special.’

 

You could almost see the steam coming out of Pex’s ears as his brain overheated.

 

‘That’s right, little man. We’re gonna do something special to you. We don’t take no insults from anybody!’

 

Mulch did not bother pointing out the double negative.

 

‘You’re right. I’ve got a smart mouth, and I deserve everything I’ve got coming to me.’

 

There followed a short silence as Pex and Chips tried to come up with something worse than the usual straight shooting.

 

Mulch gave them a minute, then made a polite suggestion.

 

‘If it were me, I’d bury me alive.’

 

Chips was horrified.

 

‘Bury you alive? That’s terrible! You’d be screaming and clawing the dirt. I could get nightmares.’

 

‘I promise to lie still. Anyway, I deserve it. I did call you a pair of overdeveloped, single-celled Cro-Magnons.’

 

‘Did you?’

 

‘Well, I have now.’

 

Pex was the more impulsive of the duo. ‘OK, Mister Digence. You know what we’re gonna do? We’re going to bury you alive.’

 

Mulch clapped two hands to his cheeks. ‘Oh, the horror!’

 

‘You asked for it, buddy.’

 

‘I did, didn’t I?’

 

Pex grabbed a spare shovel from the boot. ‘Nobody calls me an overdeveloped, signal bell crow magnet.’

 

Mulch lay down obligingly in his grave. ‘No. I bet nobody does.’

 

Pex shovelled furiously, gymnasium-sculpted muscles stretching his suit jacket. In minutes, Mulch’s form was completely covered.

 

Chips was feeling a bit squeamish. ‘That was horrible. Horrible. That poor little guy.’

 

Pex was unrepentant. ‘Yeah, well, he asked for it. Calling us… all those things.’

 

‘But buried alive?! That’s like in that horror movie. Y’know, the one with all the horror.’

 

‘I think I saw that one. With all the words going up the screen at the end?’

 

‘Yeah, that was it. Tell you the truth, those words kinda ruined it for me.’

 

Pex stamped on the loose earth. ‘Don’t worry, buddy. There are no words in this movie.’

 

They climbed back into their Chevrolet automobile. Chips was still a bit upset.

 

‘You know, it’s much more real than a movie when it’s real.’

 

Pex ignored a no-access sign and pulled on to the motorway. ‘It’s the smell. You can’t smell stuff in a movie.’

 

Chips sniffed emotionally. ‘Digence musta been upset right there at the end.’

 

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