Artemis Fowl and the Eternity Code

Juliet Butler was a fun-loving creature; she couldn’t help it. She found the idea of standing po-faced at the shoulder of some opinionated politician appalling. She’d go crazy from boredom – unless Artemis asked her to stay on professionally. A person could never be bored at Artemis Fowl’s side. But that was not likely to happen. Artemis had assured everyone that this was his last job. After Chicago he was going straight. If there was an after Chicago.

 

This stakeout business was boring too. Sitting quietly was not in Juliet’s nature. Her hyperactive disposition had caused her to fail more than one class at Madame Ko’s Academy.

 

‘Be at peace with yourself, girl,’ the Japanese instructor had said. ‘Find that quiet place at your core and inhabit it.’

 

Juliet generally had to stifle a yawn when Madame Ko started on the kung fu wisdom stuff. Butler, on the other hand, ate it up. He was forever finding his quiet place and inhabiting it. In fact, he only came out of his quiet place to pulverize whoever was threatening Artemis at the time. Maybe that was why he had his blue diamond tattoo and Juliet didn’t.

 

Two burly figures emerged from the Needle. They were grinning and punching each other on the shoulder.

 

‘Captain Short, we’re on,’ said Juliet into a walkie-talkie tuned to Holly’s frequency.

 

‘Understood,’ responded Holly from her position above the Spiro Needle. ‘How many hostiles?’

 

‘Two. Big and dumb.’

 

‘You need back-up?’

 

‘Negative. I’ll wrap these two. You can have a word on your return.’

 

‘OK. I’ll be down in five, as soon as I’ve had a talk with Foaly. And, Juliet, don’t mark them.’

 

‘Understood.’

 

Juliet switched off the radio, climbing into the rear of the van. She swept a pile of surveillance equipment under a fold-up seat, just in case the two heavies actually managed to incapacitate her. It wasn’t likely, but her brother would hide the incriminating equipment just in case. Juliet pulled off her suit jacket and placed a baseball cap backwards on her head. She then popped the rear door and clambered out on to the road.

 

Pex and Chips crossed State Street to the suspect van. It certainly looked suspicious, with its blacked-out windows, but the pair were not unduly concerned. Every testosterone-fuelled college freshman had blacked-out windows these days.

 

‘Whatcha think?’ Pex asked his partner.

 

Chips curled his fingers into fists. ‘I think we don’t bother knocking.’

 

Pex nodded. This was the plan that they generally went with. Chips would have proceeded to wrench the door from its hinges had a young lady not appeared from around the bonnet.

 

‘You guys looking for my dad?’ said the girl in perfect MTV tones. ‘People are always, like, looking for him, and he’s never around. Daddy is so not here. And I mean that spiritually.’

 

Pex and Chips blinked in unison. The blink being universal body language for ‘Huh?’ This girl was a stunning blend of Asian and Caucasian, but she might as well have been talking Greek for all the comprehension that registered on the security men’s faces. ‘Spiritually’ had five syllables, for heaven’s sake.

 

‘You own this van?’ asked Chips, taking the offensive.

 

The girl twisted her ponytail. ‘As much as any of us can, like, own anything. One world, one people, right, man? Ownership is, like, you know, an illusion. Maybe we don’t even own our own bodies. We could be, like, the daydreams of some greater spirit.’

 

Pex cracked.

 

‘Do you own the van?’ he shouted, wrapping thumb and forefinger round the girl’s neck.

 

The girl nodded. There wasn’t enough air in her windpipe for speech.

 

‘That’s better. Anyone inside?’

 

A shake of the head this time.

 

Pex relaxed his grip slightly.

 

‘How many more in the family?’

 

The girl answered in a whisper, using as little air as possible.

 

‘Seven. Dad, Mom, two grandparents and the triplets: Beau, Mo and Joe. They’re gone for sushi.’

 

Pex cheered up considerably. Triplets and grandparents, that didn’t sound like any problem.

 

‘OK. We wait. Open her up, kid.’

 

‘Sushi?’ said Chips. ‘That’s raw fish. You ever have that, buddy?’

 

Pex held the girl by the neck while she fiddled with the key.

 

‘Yeah. I bought some in the supermarket once.’

 

‘Was it good?’

 

‘Yeah. I threw it in the deep-fat fryer for ten minutes. Not bad.’

 

The girl slid back the van door and climbed into the interior. Pex and Chips followed, ducking under the rim. Pex released the girl’s neck momentarily to take the step. That was his mistake. A properly trained private soldier would never allow an untethered prisoner to lead the way into an unsecured vehicle.

 

The girl stumbled accidentally, dropping to both knees on the interior’s carpet.

 

‘Sushi,’ said Pex. ‘It’s good with French fries.’

 

Then the girl’s foot snapped back, catching him in the chest. The hired muscle collapsed, gasping, on to the floor.

 

‘Oops,’ said the girl, straightening. ‘Accident.’

 

Chips thought he must be having some kind of waking dream, because there was no way a little pop princess clone could have decked ninety kilograms of muscle and attitude.

 

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