“I can explain, Commander.”
“Oh, I’ll just bet you can. But strangely, I have a premonition that your explanation is going to cut no ice with me whatsoever, and I will have your badge in my drawer by the end of this shift.”
Artemis tried to intervene. “Really, Commander. Holly—Captain Short is only here because I tricked her.”
“Is that a fact? And then, pray tell, why is she still there? Doing lunch, are we?”
“This is no time for sarcasm, Commander. We have a serious situation here. Potentially disastrous.”
Root exhaled a cloud of greenish smoke. “What you humans do to each other is your own affair. We are not your personal police force, Fowl.”
Foaly cleared his throat. “We’re involved whether we like it or not. Artemis was the one who pinged us. And that’s not the worst of it, Julius.”
Root glanced across at the centaur. Foaly had called him by his first name. Things must be serious.
“Very well, Captain,” he said. “Continue with your briefing.”
Holly opened a report on her handheld computer. “Yesterday I responded to a recording from the Sentinel warning system. The call was sent by Artemis Fowl, a Mud Man well known to the LEP for his part in suppressing the B’wa Kell uprising. Fowl’s associate, Butler, had been mortally injured on the orders of another Mud Man, Jon Spiro, and he requested my assistance with a healing.”
“Which you refused, and then requested technical backup to perform a mind wipe, as per regulations.”
Holly could have sworn the screen was heating up.
“No. Taking into account Butler’s considerable assistance during the goblin revolution, I performed the healing and transported Butler and Fowl back to their domicile.”
“Tell me you didn’t fly them.”
“There was no alternative. They were wrapped in cam-foil.”
Root rubbed his temples. “One foot. If there was so much as one foot sticking out, we could be all over the Internet by tomorrow. Holly, why do you do this to me?”
Holly didn’t reply. What could she say?
“There’s more. We have detained one of Spiro’s employees. A nasty piece of work.”
“Did he see you?”
“No. But he heard Mulch say that he was a fairy dwarf.”
“No problem,” said Foaly. “Do a block mind wipe, and send him home.”
“It’s not that simple. The man is an assassin. He could be sent back to finish the job. I think we need to relocate him. Believe me. He won’t be missed here.”
“Okay,” said Foaly. “Sedate him, do the wipe and get rid of anything that might trigger his memories. Then send him someplace where he can’t do any harm.”
The commander took several long puffs to calm himself.“Okay. Tell me about the probe. And if Fowl is responsible, is the alert over?”
“No. The human businessman, Jon Spiro, had stolen the fairy technology from Artemis.”
“Which Artemis stole from us,” noted Foaly.
“This Spiro character is determined to acquire the technology’s secret and he’s not particular how he gets it.”
“And who knows the secret?”
“Artemis is the only one who can operate the C Cube.”
“Do I want to know what a C Cube is?”
Foaly took up the narrative. “Artemis cobbled a microcomputer together from old LEP technology. Most of it is obsolete belowground, but by human standards it’s approximately fifty years ahead of their developmental schedule.”
“And therefore worth a fortune,” concluded the commander.
“And therefore absolutely worth a fortune,” agreed Foaly.
Suddenly Mulch was listening.
“A fortune? Exactly how much of a fortune?”
Root was relieved to have someone to shout at. “Shut your mouth, convict! This doesn’t concern you. You just concentrate on enjoying your last few breaths of free air. This time tomorrow you’ll be shaking hands with your cellmate, and I hope he’s a troll.”
Mulch was unbowed. “Give me a break, Julius. Every time there’s a Fowl situation, I’m the one who saves your sorry hide. I have no doubt that whatever plan Artemis concocts will feature yours truly. Probably in some ridiculously dangerous capacity.”
Root’s complexion went from rosé to full-bodied red. “Well, Artemis? Do you plan on using the convict?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether or not you give me Holly.”
Root’s head disappeared behind a fog of cigar smoke. With the red tip glowing, he looked like a steam train coming out of a tunnel. Some of the smoke drifted across to Foaly’s screen.
“It doesn’t look good,” commented the centaur.
Eventually, Root calmed down sufficiently to talk.
“Give you Holly? Gods give me patience. Have you any idea the amount of red tape I’m ignoring just for this conference?”
“Quite a lot, I’d imagine.”