The Arctic Incident

The dwarf descended rapidly, chewing his way down floor by floor. More than one wall collapsed on his way past. Mulch had a feeling that he wouldn’t be getting his deposit back, even if he had been around to collect it.

In a little over a minute, Mulch had reached the basement parking garage. He rehinged, gave his rear end a shake to dislodge any bubbles of gas, then tumbled through the grate. His specially adapted four-wheel drive was waiting for him. Fueled up, blacked out, and ready to go.

“Suckers,” gloated the dwarf, fishing the keys from a chain around his neck.

Then Captain Holly Short materialized not two feet away.

“Suckers?” she said, powering up her buzz baton.

Mulch considered his options. The basement floor was asphalt. Asphalt was death to dwarfs, sealed up their insides like glue. There appeared to be a man mountain blocking the basement ramp. Mulch had seen that one before in Fowl Manor. That meant the human upstairs must be the infamous Artemis Fowl. Captain Short was dead ahead, looking none too merciful. Only one way to go. Back into the flue. Up a couple of stories, and hide out in another apartment.

Holly grinned. “Go on, Mulch. I dare you.”

And Mulch did. He turned, launching himself back into the chimney, expecting a sharp shock in the rear end. He was not disappointed. How could Holly miss a target like that?





Chute E116, Below Los Angeles


The Los Angeles shuttleport was ten miles south of the city, hidden beneath the holographic projection of a sand dune. Root was waiting for them in the shuttle. He had recovered just enough to crack a grin.

“Well, well,” he grunted, hauling himself off the gurney, a fresh medi-pac strapped across his ribs. “If it isn’t my favorite reprobate, back from the dead.”

Mulch helped himself to a jar of squid paté from the Atlantean Ambassador’s personal cooler.

“Why is it, Julius, that you never pay me a social visit? After all, I did save your career back in Ireland. If it hadn’t been for me, you never would have known about Fowl’s copy of the Book.”

When Root was fuming, as he was now, you could have toasted marshmallows on his cheeks.

“We had a deal, convict. You broke it. And now I’m bringing you in.”

Mulch scooped dollops of paté from the jar with his stubby fingers.

“Could use a little beetle juice,” he commented.

“Enjoy it while you can, Diggums. Because your next meal is going to be pushed through a slot in a door.”

The dwarf settled back in a padded chair. “Comfortable.”

“I thought so,” agreed Artemis. “Some form of liquid suspension. Expensive, I imagine.”

“Sure beats prison shuttles,” agreed Mulch. “I remember this one time they caught me selling a van Gogh to a Texan. I was transported in a shuttle the size of a mouse hole. They had a troll in the next cubicle. Stank something awful.”

Holly grinned. “That’s what the troll said.”

Root knew he was being goaded, but he blew his top anyway.

“Listen to me, convict. I have not traveled all this way to listen to your war stories. So shut your trap before I shut it for you.”

Mulch was unimpressed by the outburst.

“Just out of interest, Julius, why have you traveled all this way? The great Commander Root, commandeering an ambassador’s shuttle, just to apprehend little old me? I don’t think so. So, what’s going on? And what’s with the Mud Men?” He nodded at Butler. “Especially that one.”

The manservant grinned. “Remember me, little man? Seems to me I owe you something.”

Mulch swallowed. He had crossed swords with Butler before. It hadn’t ended well for the human. Mulch had vented a bowelful of dwarf gas directly at the manservant.

Very embarrassing for a bodyguard of his status, not to mention painful.

For the first time Root smiled, even though it stretched his ribs. “Okay, Mulch. You’re right. Something is going on. Something important.”

“I thought so. And as usual, you need me to do your dirty work.”

Mulch rubbed his rump. “Well, assaulting me isn’t going to help. You didn’t have to buzz me so hard, Captain. That’s going to leave a mark.”

Holly cupped a hand around one pointed ear. “Hey, Mulch, if you listen really hard you can just about make out the sound of nobody giving a hoot. From what I saw, you were living pretty well on LEP gold.”

“That apartment cost me a fortune, you know. The deposit alone was four years of your salary. Did you see the view? Used to belong to some movie director.”

Holly raised an eyebrow. “Glad to see the money was put to good use. Heaven forbid you should squander it.”

Mulch shrugged. “Hey, I’m a thief. What did you expect, I’d start a shelter?”

Artemis cleared his throat. “This reunion is all very touching. But while you’re exchanging witticisms, my father is freezing in the Arctic.”

The dwarf zipped up his suit. “His father? You want me to rescue Artemis Fowl’s father? In the Arctic?” There was real fear in his voice. Dwarfs hated ice almost as much as fire.