“It’s funny you should mention that.”
The passport officer groaned. Ten more minutes and his shift would have been over. “I was being sarcastic, actually . . .”
“Because my friend, Mr. McGuire, and I are also doing a stint in the Christmas pantomime. It’s Snow White. I’m Doc, and he’s Dopey.”
The passport officer forced a smile. “Very good. Next.”
Mulch spoke for the entire line to hear. “Of course, Mr. McGuire there was born to play Dopey, if you catch my drift.”
Loafers lost it right there in the terminal. “You little freak!” he screamed. “I’ll kill you! You’ll be my next tattoo. You’ll be my next tattoo!”
Mulch tutted as Loafers disappeared beneath half a dozen security guards.
“Actors,” he said. “Highly strung.”
They released Loafers three hours later after a full search and several phone calls to the parish priest in his hometown. Mulch was waiting in the pre-ordered rental car, a specially modified model with elevated accelerator and brake pedals.
“Your temper is seriously jeopardizing this operation,” commented the dwarf, straight-faced. “I’ll have to phone Miss Frazetti if you can’t control yourself.”
“Drive,” said the metal man hoarsely. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Okay, then. But you’re on your very last chance. One more episode like that, and I’m going to have to crush your head between my teeth.”
Loafers noticed his partner’s teeth for the first time.
They were tombstone-shaped blocks of enamel, and there seemed to be an awful lot of them for just one mouth. Was it possible that Digence could actually do what he threatened? No, Loafers decided. He was just a bit spooked after the customs interrogation. Still, there was something about the dwarf’s smile. A glint that spoke of hidden and frightening talents. Talents that the metal man would prefer to stay hidden.
Mulch took care of the driving, while Loafers made a couple of calls on his cell phone. It was a simple matter for him to contact a few old associates and arrange for a weapon, silencer, and two headsets to be left in a duffel bag behind the highway exit sign for Fowl Manor. Loafers’ associates even took credit cards, so there was no need for the usual macho trade-off that generally accompanied black-market transactions.
Loafers checked the weapon’s action and sights in the car. He felt in control again.
“So, Mo,” said Loafers, chuckling as if that simple rhyme was the funniest joke he had ever made. (Sadly, it was.) “Have you put together a plan yet?”
Mulch didn’t take his eyes from the road. “Nope. I thought you were the head honcho here. Plans are your department. I just break and enter.”
“That’s right. I am the head honcho, and believe me Master Fowl is going to realize that too when I’m finished talking to him.”
“Master Fowl?” said Mulch innocently. “We’re here for some kid?”
“Not just some kid,” revealed Loafers, against orders. “Artemis Fowl. Heir to the Fowl criminal empire. He has something in his head that Miss Frazetti wants. So we’re supposed to impress upon the little brat how important it is that he come with us and spill the beans.”
Mulch’s grip tightened on the wheel. He should have made his move before now. But the trick was not to incapacitate Loafers, it was to convince Carla Frazetti not to send another team.
Artemis would know what to do. He had to get to the boy before Loafers did. A cell phone and a visit to the bathroom were all he needed. A pity he had never bothered purchasing a phone, but there had never been anybody to call before. Besides, you could never be too careful with Foaly. That centaur could triangulate a chirping cricket.
“We better stop for supplies,” said Loafers. “It could take days to check this place out.”
“No need. I know the layout. I burgled this place before in my youth. Piece of cake.”
“And you didn’t mention this before because . . .”
Mulch made a rude gesture at a truck driver hogging both lanes.
“You know the way it is. I work on commission. The commission is calculated on a hardship basis. The second I say I turned this place over before, ten grand is cut off my fee.”
Loafers didn’t argue. It was true. You always exaggerated the difficulty of the job. Anything to squeeze a few more bucks out of your employer.
“So, you can get us in there?”
“I can get me in there. Then I come back out for you.”
Loafers was suspicious. “Why don’t I just come with you? It would be a lot easier than hanging around in broad daylight.”
“First, I’m not going in until after dark. And second, sure you can come with me, if you don’t mind crawling through the septic tank and up thirty feet of effluent pipe.”
Loafers had to open a window at the thought of it.