“A little kid I have here by the scruff of the neck. I impressed upon him how important it was that I talk to you.”
“And how did you know to talk to me? Who gave you my name?”
“Again, the kid. He was very eager to tell me everything after he saw what I did to the metal man.”
Spiro sighed. If the metal man was damaged, he would have to pay the Antonellis a fine.
“What did you do to the metal man?”
“Nothing permanent. But he won’t be aiming any guns at kids for a while.”
“Why did you feel it necessary to damage your own partner, Digence?”
There was a pause on the other end, while Mulch got the supposed sequence of events sorted out.
“It was like this, Mr. Spiro. Our instructions were to escort the kid across to the U.S. But Loafers goes crazy and starts waving a gun around. I figured this was the wrong way to go. So I stopped him. Forcibly. Anyway, the kid gets so scared that he tells me everything I want to know. And here I am now, having a conversation with you.”
Spiro rubbed his hands together. “You did the right thing, Digence. There’ll be a bonus in this for you. I’ll see to it personally.”
“Thanks, Mr. Spiro. Believe me, the pleasure was mine.”
“Is the Fowl kid there?”
“Right beside me. A little pale, but not a scratch on him.”
“Put him on,” ordered Spiro, all traces of depression vanishing.
“Spiro, it’s me.” Artemis’s voice was aloof, but with an unmistakable tremor.
Spiro squeezed the air, as though it were Artemis’s neck.
“Not so cocky now, kid? It’s like I told you, you don’t have the guts for this job. Me on the other hand . . . If I don’t get what I want, then I’ll have Mo put you out of my misery. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes. Loud and clear.”
“Good,” said Spiro, clamping a huge Cuban cigar between his teeth. It would be chewed to a pulp, but not lit. “Now, talk. What do I have to do to get this Cube working?”
Artemis’s voice sounded even shakier than before. “It’s not that simple, Mr. Spiro. The C Cube is encrypted. Something called an eternity code. I can remotely access certain basic functions; the phone, MP3 player, and so on, but to disable the code completely and unlock the Cube’s potential, I need to have it here in front of me. If you could just bring the Cube here. . . .”
Spiro spat out the cigar. “Hold it right there, Fowl. Just how stupid do you think I am? I’m going to bring this priceless technology back to Europe? Forget it! If you’re going to disable this thing, you’re going to do it here. In the Spiro Needle!”
“But my tools, my lab?”
“I got tools here. And a lab. The best in the world. You do it here.”
“Yes. Whatever you say.”
“That’s right, kid. Whatever I say. I want you to fuel up the Lear jet, which I happen to know you have, and do a quick hop across to O’ Hare Airport. I’ll have a chopper waiting for you.”
“I don’t suppose I have a choice.”
“That’s right, kid. You don’t. But do this right and I might just let you go. Did you get all that, Digence?”
“Loud and clear, Mr. Spiro.”
“Good. I’m counting on you to get the kid here safely.” “Consider it done.” The line went dead. Spiro chuckled. “I think I’m going to celebrate,” he said, unching the intercom button. “Marlene, send in a pot of coffee, and no low-caffeine junk either, I want the real thing.”
“But, Mr. Spiro, your doctor said . . .” Spiro waited for his secretary to realize who she was rguing with. “I’m sorry, sir. Right away, sir.” Spiro leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind is head. “You see, Blunt, this is going to turn out fine, in spite of our incompetence. I got that kid just where I want him.” “Yesh, shir. Masherfully done, shir.” Spiro laughed. “Shut up, you clown. You sound like ome cartoon character.” “Yesh. Mosh amushing, shir.” Spiro licked his lips, anticipating his coffee. “For a suposed genius, that kid sure is gullible. Do this right and I might just let you go? He fell for that one, hook, line, and sinker.”
Blunt tried to grin. It was not a pretty sight. “Yesh, Mishuh Shpiro. Hoo, line, an’ shinkuh.”
Fowl Manor
Artemis hung up the phone, his face flushed with the thrill f the sting.
“What do you think? he asked.
“I think he bought it,” replied Butler.
“Hook, line, and sinker,” added Mulch. “You have a jet? I presume there’s a kitchen.”
Butler drove them to Dublin Airport in the Bentley. It was to be his final act in this particular operation. Holly and Mulch huddled in the back, glad of the tinted glass.