The men looked up just in time to get a faceful of sopping camel-hair. The heavy rugs and garments wrapped themselves around their flailing limbs, and the nylon cable caught them below the chins. In less than a second the three were down.
Juliet made certain they stayed down with pinches to the nerve clusters at the base of the neck.
“Madam Ko,” she cried, searching the laundry for her sensei.
The old woman lay shuddering in an olive dress, a plain head scarf covering her face.
Juliet helped the woman to her feet. “Did you see that move, Madam? I totally decked those morons. I bet they never saw anything like that before. Improvisation. Butler always says it’s the key. You know, I think my eye shadow distracted them. Glitter green. Never fails . . .”
Juliet stopped talking because there was a knife at her throat. The knife was wielded by Madam Ko herself, who was in fact not Madam Ko, but some other tiny Asian lady, in an olive dress. A decoy.
“You are dead,” said the lady.
“Yes,” agreed Madam Ko, stepping from the shadows. “And if you are dead, then the Principal is dead. And you have failed.”
Juliet bowed low, joining her hands. “That was a sly trick, Madam,” she said, trying to sound respectful.
Her sensei laughed. “Of course. That is the way of life. What did you expect?”
“But those assassins, I completely kicked their b— I defeated them comprehensively.”
Madam Ko dismissed the claim with a wave. “Luck. Fortunately for you, these were not assassins, but three graduates of the academy. What was that nonsense with the wire?”
“It’s a wrestling trick,” said Juliet. “It’s called the clothesline.”
“Unreliable,” said the Japanese lady. “You succeeded because fortune was with you. Fortune is not enough in our business.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” protested Juliet. “There was this guy in the market. Totally in my face. I had to put him to sleep for a while.”
Madam Ko tapped Juliet between the eyes. “Quiet, girl. Think for once. What should you have done?”
Juliet bowed an inch lower. “I should have incapacitated the merchant immediately.”
“Exactly. His life means nothing. Insignificant, compared to the Principal’s safety.”
“I can’t just kill innocent people,” protested Juliet.
Madam Ko sighed. “I know, child. And that is why you are not ready. You have all the skill, but you lack focus and resolve. Perhaps next year.”
Juliet’s heart plummeted. Her brother had earned the blue diamond at eighteen years of age. The youngest graduate in the academy’s history. She had been hoping to equal that feat. Now she would have to try again in twelve months. It was pointless to object any further. Madam Ko never reversed a decision.
A young woman in acolyte’s robes emerged from the alley, holding a small briefcase.
“Madam,” she said, bowing. “There is a call for you on the satellite phone.”
Madam Ko took the offered handset, listening intently for several moments. “A message from Artemis Fowl,” she said eventually.
Juliet itched to straighten from her bow, but it would be an unforgivable breach of protocol. “Yes, Madam?”
“The message is: Domovoi needs you.”
Juliet frowned. “You mean, Butler needs me.”
“No,” said Madam Ko without a trace of emotion. “I mean Domovoi needs you. I am just repeating what was told to me.”
And suddenly Juliet could feel the sun pounding on her neck, and she could hear the mosquitoes whining in her ear like dentists’ drills, and all she wanted to do was straighten up and run all the way to the airport. Butler would never have revealed his name to Artemis. Not unless . . . No, she couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t even allow herself to think it.
Madam Ko tapped her chin thoughtfully. “You are not ready. I should not let you leave. You are too emotionally nvolved to be an effective bodyguard.”
“Please, Madam,” said Juliet.
Her sensei considered it for two long minutes. “Very well,” she said. “Go.”
Juliet was gone before the word finished echoing around the square, and heaven help any carpet merchant who blocked her path.
CHAPTER 5
THE METAL MAN AND THE MONKEY
The Spiro Needle, Chicago
Jon Spiro took the Concorde from Heathrow to O’Hare International Airport in Chicago. A stretch limousine ferried him downtown to the Spiro Needle, a sliver of steel and glass rising eighty-six stories above the Chicago skyline. Spiro Industries was located on floors fifty through eighty-five. The eighty-sixth floor was Spiro’s personal residence, accessible either by private elevator or helipad.
Jon Spiro hadn’t slept for the entire journey, too excited by the little cube sitting in his briefcase. The head of his technical staff was equally excited when Spiro informed him what this harmless looking box was capable of, and immediately scurried off to unravel the C Cube’s secrets. Six hours later he scurried back to the conference room for a midnight meeting.