Spiro laughed delightedly. “The kid is messing with your mind, Arno. Thirteen years old and he’s playing you like a grand piano in Carnegie Hall. Get yourself a spine, man, you’re supposed to be a professional.”
Blunt tried to pull himself together, but the ghost of Butler haunted his features.
Spiro plucked the C Cube from its cushion. “This is fun, Arty. All this tough talk and repartee, but it doesn’t mean anything. I win again, you’ve been outflanked. This has all been a game to me. Amusement. Your little operation has been most educational, if pathetic. But you gotta realize that it’s over now. You’re on your own, and I don’t have time for any more games!”
Artemis sighed, the picture of defeat. “All of this has been a lesson, hasn’t it? Just to show me who’s boss.”
“Exactly. It takes some people a while to learn. I find that the smarter the enemy, the bigger the ego. You had to realize that you were no match for me before you would do what I have asked.” Spiro placed a bony hand on the Irish boy’s shoulder. Artemis could feel the weight of his jewelry. “Now, listen carefully, kid. I want you to unlock this Cube. No more blarney. I never met a computer nerd yet who didn’t leave himself a back door. You open this baby up now, or I’m gonna stop being amused, and believe me you don’t want that.”
Artemis took the blue Cube in both hands, staring at its flat screen. This was the delicate phase of his plan. Spiro had to believe that once again he had outmaneuvered Artemis Fowl.
“Do it, Arty. Do it now.”
Artemis ran a hand across his dry lips.
“Very well. I need a minute.”
Spiro patted his shoulder. “I’m a generous man. Take two.” He nodded at Blunt. “Stay close, Arno, I don’t want our little friend setting any more booby traps.”
Artemis sat at a stainless-steel table, exposing the Cube’s inner workings. He quickly manipulated a complicated bunch of fiber optics, removing one strand altogether. The LEP blocker. After less than a minute, he resealed the Cube.
Spiro’s eyes were wide with anticipation, and dreams of unlimited wealth danced in his brain.
“Good news, Arty. I want good news only.”
Artemis was more subdued now, as if the reality of his situation had finally eaten through his cockiness.
“I rebooted it. It’s working. Except . . .”
Spiro waved his hands. Bracelets tinkled like cat bells. “Except! This better be an itty-bitty except kinda thing.”
“It’s nothing. Hardly worth mentioning. I had to revert to version 1.0. Version 1.2 was coded strictly to my voice patterns; 1.0 is less secure, if a bit more temperamental.”
“Temperamental. You’re a box, not my grandmother, Cube.”
“I am not a box!” said Foaly, the Cube’s new voice, thanks to the removed blocker. “I am a marvel of artificial intelligence. I live, therefore I learn.”
“See what I mean?” said Artemis weakly. The centaur was going to blow it. Spiro’s suspicions must not be aroused at this stage.
Spiro glared at the Cube as though it were an underling.
“Are you gonna give me attitude, Mister?”
The Cube did not reply.
“You have to address it by name,” explained Artemis. “Otherwise it would answer every question within hearing distance of its sensors.”
“And what is its name?”
Juliet often used the expression duh. Artemis never used such colloquialisms himself, but it would have been apt at this particular moment.
“Its name is Cube.”
“Okay, Cube. Are you going to give me attitude?”
“I will give you whatever it is in my processor’s capacity to give.”
Spiro rubbed his palms with childish glee, jewelery flashing like ripples in a sunset sea.
“Okay, let’s try this baby out. Cube, can you tell me, are there any satellites monitoring the building?”
Foaly was silent for a moment. Artemis could imagine him calling up his sat-track information on a screen. “Just one at the moment, though judging from the ion trails, this building has been hit with more rays than the Millennium Falcon.”
Spiro shot Artemis a glance.
“His personality chip is faulty,” explained the boy. “That’s why I discontinued him—it. We can fix that at any time.”
Spiro nodded. He didn’t want his very own technological genie growing the personality of a gorilla.
“What about that group, the LEP, Cube?” he asked. “They were monitoring me in London. Are they watching?”
“The LEP? That’s a Lebanese satellite TV network,” said Foaly, following Artemis’s instructions. “Game shows mostly. Their footprint doesn’t reach this far.”
“Okay, forget about them, Cube. I need to know that satellite’s serial number.”
Foaly consulted his screen.
“Ah . . . Let me see. U.S., registered to the Federal Government. Number ST1147W.”
Spiro clenched both fists. “Yes! Correct. I happen to already have that information myself. Cube, you have passed my test.”
The billionaire danced around the laboratory, reduced to childish displays by his greed.
“I’m telling you, Arty, this has taken years off me! I feel like putting on a tuxedo and going to the prom.”