‘There’s no blind spot,’ he said. ‘And the camera cable is behind the box.’
‘We’ll just have to huddle close together behind the cam foil,’ said Juliet, her lip curling at the idea.
Foaly’s image popped up on the computer screen on her wrist. ‘You could do that. But unfortunately cam foil doesn’t work on-screen.’
‘Why not?’
‘Cameras have better eyes than humans. Did you ever see a TV picture on television? The camera breaks down the pixels. If you go down that corridor behind cam foil, you’re going to look like two people behind a projector screen.’
Juliet glared at the monitor. ‘Anything else, Foaly? Maybe the floor is going to dissolve into a pool of acid?’
‘Doubt it. Spiro is good, but he’s not me.’
‘Can’t you loop the video feed, pony boy?’ said Juliet into the computer’s mike. ‘Just send them a false signal for a minute?’
Foaly gnashed his horsey teeth. ‘I am so unappreciated. No, I cannot set up a loop unless I am on-site, as I was during the Fowl siege. That is what the video clip is for. I’m afraid you’re on your own up there.’
‘I’ll blast it then.’
‘Negatori. A Neutrino blast would certainly knock out one camera, and possibly chain-react along the entire network. You may as well dance a jig for Arno Blunt.’
Juliet kicked the skirting board in frustration. She was falling at the first hurdle. Her brother would know what to do, but he was on the other side of the Atlantic. A mere six metres of corridor separated them from the camera, but it might as well have been a thousand metres of broken glass.
She noticed that Mulch was unbuttoning his bum-flap.
‘Oh, great. Now the little man needs a potty break. This is hardly the time.’
‘I’m going to ignore your sarcasm,’ said Mulch, lying flat on the floor, ‘because I know what Spiro can do to people he doesn’t like.’
Juliet knelt beside him. Not too close.
‘I hope your next sentence is going to begin with “I have a plan.”’
The dwarf appeared to be aiming his rear end.
‘Actually…’
‘You’re not serious.’
‘Deadly. I have quite a considerable force at my disposal here.’
Juliet couldn’t help smiling. The little guy was a dwarf after her own heart. Metaphorically. He was adapting to the situation, just as she would.
‘All we have to do is swing the camera about twenty degrees on its stand and we have a clear run to the cable.’
‘And you’re going to do that with… wind power?’
‘Precisely.’
‘What about the noise?’
Mulch winked. ‘Silent, but deadly. I’m a professional. All you have to do is squeeze my little toe when I give you the word.’
In spite of arduous training in some of the world’s toughest terrain, Juliet was not quite prepared to be involved in a wind offensive.
‘Do I have to participate? It seems like a one-man operation to me.’
Mulch squinted at the target, adjusting his posterior accordingly.
‘This is a precision burst. I need a gunner to pull the trigger so I can concentrate on aiming. Reflexology is a proven science with dwarfs. Every part of the foot is connected to a part of the body. And it just so happens that the left little toe is connected to my…’
‘OK,’ said Juliet hurriedly. ‘I get the picture.’
‘Let’s get on with it then.’
Juliet pulled Mulch’s boot off. The socks were open-toed, and five hairy digits wiggled with a dexterity no human toes possessed.
‘This is the only way?’
‘Unless you have a better idea.’
Juliet gingerly grasped the toe, its black curly hairs obligingly parting to allow her access to the joint.
‘Now?’
‘Wait.’ The dwarf licked his forefinger, testing the air. ‘No wind.’
‘Not yet,’ muttered Juliet.
Mulch fine-tuned his aim. ‘OK. Squeeze.’
Juliet held her breath, and squeezed. And in order to do the moment justice, it has to be described in slow motion.
Juliet felt her fingers close round the joint. The pressure sped up Mulch’s leg in a series of jolts. The dwarf fought to keep his aim true, in spite of the spasms. Pressure built in his abdomen and exploded through his bum-flap with a dull thump. The only thing Juliet could relate the experience to was crouching beside a mortar. A missile of compressed air shot across the room, heat blur surrounding it like waves of water.
‘Too much top-spin,’ groaned Mulch. ‘I loaded it.’
The air ball spiralled towards the ceiling, shedding layers like an onion.
‘Right,’ urged Mulch. ‘Right a bit.’
The next unlikely missile impacted against the wall a metre ahead of its target. Luckily, the ricochet clipped the camera box, sending it spinning like a plate on a stick. The intruders waited for it to settle with bated breath. The camera finally creaked to a halt after a dozen revolutions.
‘Well?’ asked Juliet.