The Arctic Incident

“You look terrible. Have you been using that ointment I gave you?”


Cudgeon rubbed his head tenderly. It was bubbled with horrific lumps.

“It doesn’t work. There’s cortisone in it. I’m allergic.”

Cudgeon’s condition was unusual, perhaps unique. The previous year, he had been sedated by Commander Root during the Fowl Manor siege. Unfortunately, the tranquilizer had reacted badly with some banned mind-accelerating substances the former commander had been experimenting with. Cudgeon was left with a forehead like melted tar, plus a droopy eye. Ugly and demoted, not a great combination.

“You should get those boils lanced. I can barely stand to look at you.” Sometimes Opal Koboi forgot who she was talking to. Briar Cudgeon was not the usual corporate lackey.

Cudgeon calmly drew a customized Redboy blaster, firing two bursts into the hoverchair’s sleeve. The contraption whirled across the stippled rubber tiles, coming to rest sprawled across a bank of hard disks.

The disgraced LEP elf caught Opal by the pointed chin. “You’d better get used to looking at me, my dear Opal. Because soon this face will be on every view screen under this planet, and on top of it.”

The tiny pixie curled her fingers into a fist. She was unaccustomed to insubordination, not to mention actual violence. But at moments like this she could see the madness in Cudgeon’s eyes. The drugs had cost him more than his magic and his looks, they had cost him his mind.

And suddenly he was himself again, graciously helping her up as though nothing had happened.

“Now, my dear, progress report. The B’wa Kell are eager for blood.”

Opal smoothed the front of her cat suit.

“Captain Short is escorting the human, Artemis Fowl, to E37.”

“Fowl is here!” exclaimed Cudgeon. “Of course! I should have guessed that he would be suspected. This is perfect! Our human slave, Luc Carrère, will take care of him, too. Carrère has been mesmerized. I still have that power.”

Koboi applied a layer of blood-red lipstick. “There could be trouble if Carrère is captured.”

“Don’t worry,” Cudgeon assured her. “Monsieur Carrère has been mesmerized so many times that his mind is blanker than a wiped disk. He couldn’t tell any tales, even if he wanted to. Then once he has done our dirty work for us, the French police will lock him up in a nice padded cell.”

Opal giggled. For someone who never smiled, Cudgeon had a delicious sense of humor.





CHAPTER 6





PHOTO OPPORTUNITY


Chute E37, Haven


The unlikely allies took the goblin shuttle up E37. Holly was none too pleased. First of all, she was being ordered to work with public enemy number one, Artemis Fowl. And secondly, the goblin shuttle was held together by spit and prayers.

Holly hooked a com rig over one pointy ear. “Hey, Foaly? You there?”

“Right here, Captain.”

“Remind me again why I’m flying this old slammer.”

LEPrecon pilots referred to suspect shuttles as “slammers” because of their alarming tendency to slam into the chute walls.

“The reason you’re flying that old slammer, Captain, is that the goblins built this shuttle inside the port, and all three old access ramps were removed years ago. It would take days to get a new rig in there. So, I’m afraid we’re stuck with the goblin ship.”

Holly strapped herself into the pilot’s wraparound seat. The thruster toggles almost seemed to jump into her hands. For a split second Captain Short’s natural good humor returned. She was an ace pilot, top of her class in the academy. On her final assessment, Wing Commander Vinyáya had written, “Cadet Short could fly a shuttle pod through the gap in your teeth.” It was a compliment with a sting in the tail. On her first tryout in a pod, Holly had lost control, crash-landing the craft six feet from Vinyáya’s nose.

So for five seconds, Holly was happy. Then she remembered who her passengers were.

“I wonder, could you tell me,” said Artemis, settling into the copilot’s chair, “how close the Russian terminal is to Murmansk?”

“Civilians behind the yellow line,” growled Holly, ignoring the inquiry.

Artemis pressed on. “This is important to me. I am trying to plan a rescue.”

Holly grinned tightly. “There’s so much irony here, I could write a poem. The kidnapper looking for help with a kidnapping.”

Artemis rubbed his temples.

“Holly, I am a criminal. It’s what I do best. When I abducted you, I was thinking only of the ransom. You were never supposed to be in any danger.”

“Oh, really?”said Holly.“Apart from bio-bombs and trolls.”

“True,” admitted Artemis. “Sometimes plans don’t translate smoothly from paper to real life.” He paused to clean some nonexistent dirt from his manicured nails. “I have matured, Captain. This is my father. I need all the information I can gather before facing the Mafiya.”