“Okay. You come get me. But we stay in contact over the headsets. Anything goes wrong, you let me know.”
“Yes, sir, boss,” said Mulch, screwing the earpiece into a hairy ear and clipping the mike to his jacket. “Wouldn’t want you to miss your appointment intimidating a kid.”
The sarcasm made a slight whistling noise as it flew over Loafer’s head.
“That’s right,” said the Kilkenny man. “I am the boss. And you don’t want to make me late for my appointment.”
Mulch had to concentrate to stop his beard hair curling. Dwarf hair is very mood sensitive, especially to hostility, which was flowing out of this man’s every pore. Mulch’s bristles had never been wrong yet. This little partnership was not going to end well.
*
Mulch parked in the shadow of the Fowl Estate’s boundary all. “You certain this is the place?” asked Loafers. Mulch pointed a stubby finger at the ornate iron gate. “You see there where it says Fowl Manor?” “Yes.” “I’d say this was probably the place.” Even Loafers couldn’t miss a direct gibe like that. “You better get me in there, Digence, or . . .” Mulch showed him the teeth. “Or what?” “Or Miss Frazetti will be extremely annoyed,” comleted Loafers lamely, well aware that he was losing the tough-guy banter battle. Loafers resolved to teach Mo Digence a lesson as soon as possible.
“We wouldn’t want to annoy Miss Frazetti,” said Mulch. He climbed down from the elevated seat and reclaimed his gear bag from the trunk. There were certain unorthodox burglary tools in the bag supplied by his fairy fence in New York. He hoped none of them would be needed. Not the way he intended to gain entrance to the manor.
Mulch rapped on the passenger window. Loafers uzzed it open. “What?” “Remember, you stay here until I come and get you.” “That sounds like an order, Digence. Are you giving me rders now?” “Me?” said Mulch, revealing the full expanse of his teeth. “Giving orders? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Loafers buzzed the window back up.
“You better not be,” he said, as soon as there was a layer of reinforced glass between him and those teeth.
Inside Fowl Manor, Butler had just finished clipping and shaving. He was beginning to look like his old self again. His older self.
“Kevlar, you say?” he said, examining the darkened tissue on his chest.
Artemis nodded. “Apparently some fibers were trapped in the wound. The magic replicated them. According to Foaly, the new tissue will restrict your breathing, but it isn’t dense enough to be bulletproof, except for a small-caliber bullet.”
Butler buttoned his shirt. “Everything is different, Artemis. I can’t guard you anymore.”
“I won’t need guarding. Holly was right. My grand schemes generally lead to people getting hurt. As soon as we have dealt with Spiro, I intend to concentrate on my education.”
“As soon as we have dealt with Spiro? You make it sound like a foregone conclusion. Jon Spiro is a dangerous man, Artemis. I thought you would have learned that.”
“I have, old friend. Believe me, I won’t underestimate him again. I have already begun to formulate a plan. We should be able to retrieve the C Cube and neutralize Mr. Spiro, providing Holly agrees to help.”
“Where is Holly? I need to thank her. Again.”
Artemis glanced out of the window. “She has gone to complete the Ritual. You can guess where.”
Butler nodded. They had first encountered Holly at a sacred fairy site in the southeast while she was conducting the power-restoring Ritual. Although encountered was not the term Holly would have used. Abducted would have been closer to the truth.
“She should be back within the hour. I suggest you rest until then.”
Butler shook his head. “I can rest later. Right now, I have to check the grounds. It’s unlikely that Spiro could put a team together so quickly. But you never know.”
The bodyguard crossed to a wall panel that linked his room to the security system control booth. Artemis could see that each step was an effort. With Butler’s new chest tissue, just climbing the stairs would seem like a marathon.
Butler split screened his monitor so he could view all the CCTVs simultaneously. One of the screens interested him more than the others, so he punched it up on the entire monitor.
“Well, well,” he chuckled. “Look who’s dropped in to say hello.”
Artemis crossed to the security panel. There was a very small individual making rude gestures at the kitchen-door camera.
“Mulch Diggums,” said Artemis. “Just the dwarf I wanted to see.”
Butler transferred Mulch’s image to the main screen. “Perhaps. But why does he want to see you?”
Melodramatic as always, the dwarf insisted on a sandwich before explaining the situation. Unfortunately for Mulch, it was Artemis who volunteered to prepare it for him. He emerged from the pantry with something that resembled nothing so much as an explosion on a plate.