Butler jabbed four rigid fingers at the centre of the mud wall where cracks were beginning to spread and, sure enough, the wall was only a few centimetres thick and crumbled easily under the pressure. The bodyguard pulled away chunks until there was sufficient space to squeeze through to the tunnel beyond.
To say there was sufficient space is perhaps a slight exaggeration; barely enough is probably more accurate. Butlers bulky frame was compressed on all sides by uneven walls of black clay. Occasionally a jagged rock poked through, tearing a gash in his designer suit. That was two suits ruined in as many days, one in Munich and now the second, below ground in Ireland. Still, suits were the least of his worries. If Mulch were right, then Artemis was running around the Lower Elements right now with a group of bloodthirsty trolls on his trail. Butler had fought a troll once, and the battle had very nearly killed him. He couldnt even imagine fighting an entire group.
Butler dug his fingers into the earth, pulling himself forward through the tunnel. This particular tunnel, Mulch had informed him, was one of many illicit back doors into the Lower Elements chute system, chewed out by fugitive dwarfs over the centuries. Mulch himself had excavated this one almost three hundred years ago, when he had needed to sneak back to Haven for his cousins birthday bash. Butler tried not to think about the dwarfs recycling process as he went.
After several metres, the tunnel widened into a bulb-shaped chamber. The walls glowed a gentle green. Mulch had explained that too. The walls were coated with dwarf spittle, which hardened on prolonged contact with air and also glowed. Amazing. Drinking pores, living hairs and now luminous saliva. What next? Explosive phlegm? He wouldnt be a bit surprised. Who knew what secrets the dwarfs were hiding up their sleeves? Or in other places.
Butler kicked aside a pile of rabbit bones, the remains of previous dwarf snacks, and sat down to wait.
He checked the luminous face of his Omega wristwatch. He had dropped Mulch at Tara almost thirty minutes ago; the little man should be here by now. The bodyguard would have paced the chamber, but there was barely enough room for him to stand up, never mind pace. Butler crossed his legs, settling down for a power nap. He hadnt slept since the missile attack in Germany, and he wasnt as young as he used to be. His heartbeat and breathing slowed until eventually his chest barely moved at all.
Eight minutes later, the small chamber began to shake violently. Chunks of brittle spittle cracked from the wall, shattering on the floor. The ground beneath his feet glowed red, and a stream of insects and worms flowed away from the hot spot. Butler stood to one side, calmly brushing himself down. Moments later, a cylindrical section of earth dropped cleanly out of the floor, leaving a steaming hole.
Mulchs voice drifted through the hole, borne on the waves of the stolen shuttles amplification system. Lets go, Mud Man. Move yourself. We have people to save, and the LEP is on my tail.
On Mulch Diggumss tail, thought Butler, shuddering. Not a nice place to be.
Nevertheless, the bodyguard lowered himself into the hole and through the open roof hatch of the hovering LEP shuttle. Police shuttles were cramped, even for fairies, but Butler could not even sit up straight in a chair, even if there had been one wide enough for him. He had to content himself with kneeling behind the command seat.
All set? he enquired.
Mulch picked a beetle from Butlers shoulder. He shoved it into his beard, where the unfortunate insect was immediately cocooned by hair.
For later, he explained. Unless you want it?
Butler smiled, but it was an effort. Thanks. I already ate.
Oh, really? Well, whatever you ate, hold on to it, because we are in a hurry, so I may have to break a few speed limits.
The dwarf cracked every joint in his fingers and toes, then sent the craft into a steep, spiralling dive. Butler slid to the rear of the craft and had to hook three seat belts together to prevent further jostling.
Is this really necessary? he grunted through rippling cheeks.
Look behind you, replied Mulch.
Butler struggled to his knees, directing his gaze through the rear window. They were being pursued by a trio of what looked like fireflies, but which were actually smaller shuttles. The craft matched their every spiral and jink exactly. One fired a small, sparking torpedo, which sent a shock wave through the hull. Butler felt the pores in his shaven head tingle.
LEP uni-pods, explained Mulch. They just took out our communications mast, in case we have accomplices in the chutes somewhere. Those pods have got a lock on our navigation system. Their own computers will follow us forever, unless.
Unless what?
Unless we can outrun them. Get out of their range.
Butler tightened the belts across his torso. And can we?
Mulch flexed his fingers and toes. Lets find out, he said, flicking the throttle wide.