Perhaps this lemur is more valuable than I realized. The animal is the bait that lures these creatures in.
A minute passed with only the small revolting dwarflike thing in the screen, perching its disproportionately large backside on the rim of the trunk; then the female appeared, only to promptly disappear, Rathdown Park’s famous pylons filling the screen where she had been.
Artemis tightened his grip on the phone.
Invisibility? The energy involved in creating a reflective field or needed to generate high-speed vibration must be incredible.
He quickly navigated the phone’s menu and activated the digital thermal imager, a decidedly nonstandard option, and was relieved to see the female creature’s form blossom on screen in warm tones.
Good. Not gone, just hard to see.
Keeping one eye on his phone, Artemis called to his bodyguard. “Butler, old friend. Slight change of plan.”
The bodyguard knew better than to hope the lemur hunt was off. “We’re still on the trail of a little creature, though, I’ll bet.”
“Creatures,” said ten-year-old Artemis. “Plural.”
Fourteen-year-old Artemis was not enjoying the view. To distract himself he composed a haiku describing the sight before him.
Pale, shuddering globes
Churn their poisonous cargo
Bald heads in a bag
Mulch Diggums was not feeling quite so poetic. He stopped digging and rehinged his jaw.
“Could you please stop shining that flashlight on my backside? I blister easily. We dwarfs are extremely photosensitive, even to artificial light.”
Artemis had taken the flashlight from the Bentley’s breakdown kit and was following Mulch through a fresh tunnel to the lemur’s cage. The dwarf had assured him that the tunnel was sufficiently short for him to hold in the dirt and air until they reached the other end, making it safe for Artemis to be directly behind him.
Artemis averted the light for a few seconds, thinking that a bum blister was the last thing he wanted to see; but after a while the beam strayed back onto the pale, wobbling flesh once more.
“Just a quick question. If you can hold in all the diggings, then why does your bum-flap need to be open?”
Mulch was spitting large wads of dwarf phlegm onto the wall to shore up the tunnel.
“In case of emergency,” he explained, “I could swallow a buried lug of metal, or a strip of old tire. Now, those I would have to evacuate on the spot, annoying Mud Boy to the rear or not. No sense in ruining my trousers too, is there, dopey?”
“I suppose not,” said Artemis, thinking that with such a wide-bore loaded weapon pointed at him, he could bear being called dopey.
“Anyway,” continued the dwarf, hawking another wad at the wall, “you should consider yourself privileged. Not many humans have seen a dwarf working with spit. This is what you might call an ancient art. First you—”
“I know, I know,” interrupted Artemis impatiently. “First you excavate, then you strengthen the walls with your spittle, which hardens on contact with the air, providing it’s out of your mouth, obviously. And it’s luminous too, amazing material.”
Mulch’s behind wobbled in surprise. “How do you know these secrets?”
“You told me, or rather, you will tell me. Time travel, remember?”
The dwarf peered over his shoulders, eyes red in the glow of his spittle. “Just how close do we become?”
“Very close. We get an apartment together, and after a whirlwind courtship you marry my sister and honeymoon in Vegas.”
“I love Vegas,” said Mulch wistfully. Then, “Such snide wit. I can see how we might be friends. All the same, keep your comments to yourself, or we might have to see how funny you are covered in tunnel waste.”
Artemis swallowed hard, then moved the flashlight away from Mulch’s behind.
The plan was a simple one. They would tunnel underneath the compound and wait below the lemur’s cage for Holly to contact them on the short-range LEP adhesive communicator stuck to Artemis’s cheek, part of Mulch’s stash. From that point forward, the plan became fluid. Either they would pop up and grab the lemur while Holly caused consternation among the animals, or if young Artemis had already secured the lemur, Mulch would dig a hole under Butler and make it easier for Holly to relieve the boy of his prize.
All very straightforward, thought Artemis. Which is unusual for me.
“Okay, Mud Boy,” said Mulch, scooping a bulb-shaped hollow with his flat fingers. “We are here. X marks the monkey.”
“Lemur,” corrected Artemis automatically. “Are you certain you can distinguish this particular animal’s scent from all the others?”
Mulch held a hand to his heart in mock affront. “I? Certain? I am a dwarf, human. A dwarf nose can tell the difference between grass and clover. Between black hair and brown. Between dog poo and wolf poo.”
Artemis groaned. “I shall take that as a yes.”
“And so you should. Keep this up and I may choose not to marry your sister.”