He held his breath, as though that could possibly make a difference, and laid his gloved hands on the metal sled.
Still alive. A good start.
Artemis inched forward, the metal warm under his clumsy gloved hands, until he was lying flat on the sled with the double-handled winch in front of his face. It was a delicate maneuver and would have been impossible had the cables not been tethered together at regular intervals. He began to twist, and almost immediately the strain on his arms was tremendous as he moved his own bodyweight.
The gym. Butler, you were right. I’ll do weights, anything, just get me off these cables with that lemur under my arm.
Artemis slid forward, feeling the runners scrape the rough metal of the cables, their intense hum setting his teeth on edge and sending constant shivers coursing along his arched spine. The wind was low, but still threatened to topple him from his lofty perch, and the ground seemed like another planet. Distant and uninviting.
Twenty feet later his arms ached, and he was noticed by the opposition.
A voice floated across from the other pylon. “I advise you to stay where you are, young man. If that suit has the tiniest rip, then one slip and those cables will liquefy your skin and melt your bones.”
Artemis scowled. Young man? Had he really been so obnoxious? So patronizing?
“It would take less than a second for you to die,” continued ten-year-old Artemis. “But that’s quite long enough to be in mortal agony, don’t you think? And all for nothing, as the lemur will obviously return for this treat.”
Yes, he had been smug as well as obnoxious and patronizing.
Artemis chose not to reply, concentrating his energy on staying alive and enticing the silky sifaka toward him. From his considerable reservoir of knowledge on just about everything, Artemis plucked the fact that smaller simians were comforted by a purring noise. Thank you, Jane Goodall.
So he began to purr, much to the amusement of his younger self.
“Listen, Butler. There’s a cat on the wire. A big tom, I would say. Perhaps you should throw him a fish.”
But the mocking tone was undercut with tension. Young Artemis knew exactly what was going on.
More purring and it seemed to be working. The ghostly sifaka took a few cautious steps toward the elder Artemis, his beady black eyes glittering with starlight and perhaps curiosity.
Holly would be proud. I am talking to an animal.
Even as he purred, Artemis winced at how ludicrous the situation had become. It was a typical Fowlesque melodrama. Two parties hunting for a lemur on the highest power lines in Ireland.
Artemis looked along the dip of the lines across to the other pylon, where Butler stood, jacket tail flapping around his thighs. The bodyguard leaned into the wind, and the intensity of his stare seemed to pierce the darkness, homing in on Artemis the elder like a laser.
I miss my bodyguard, thought Artemis.
The lemur scampered closer, encouraged by the purring and perhaps fooled by the steel-gray hotsuit.
That’s right. I am another lemur.
Artemis’s arms were shaking from the strain of turning the handles at such an awkward angle. Every muscle in his body was stretched to its limit, including several he had never used before. His head was dizzy from keeping his balance.
All this and animal impersonations too.
One yard now. That was the distance between Artemis and the lemur. There were no more taunts from the other side now. Artemis glanced across and found that his nemesis had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply. Trying to come up with a plan.
The lemur jumped onto the sled and touched Artemis’s gloved hand tentatively. Contact. Artemis stayed stock still, apart from his lips, which burbled out a comforting purr.
That’s it, little fellow. Climb onto my arm.
Artemis looked into the lemur’s eyes, and for perhaps the first time realized that it had emotions. There was fear in those eyes, but also a mischievous confidence.
How could I have sold you to those madmen? he wondered.
The lemur suddenly committed itself and scampered onto Artemis’s shoulder. It seemed content to sit there while Artemis ferried it back to the service pylon.
As Artemis retreated, he kept his eye fixed on his younger self. He would never simply accept defeat like this. Neither of them would. Young Artemis’s eyes suddenly snapped open and met his nemesis’s stare.
“Shoot the animal,” he said coldly.
Butler was surprised. “Shoot the monkey?”
“It’s a . . . never mind. Just shoot it. The man is protected by his suit, but the lemur is an easy target.”
“But the fall . . .”
“If it dies, it dies. I will not be thwarted here, Butler. If I cannot have that lemur, then no one will have it.”
Butler frowned. Killing animals was not in his job description, but he knew from experience that there was no point in arguing with the young master. At any rate, it was a bit late to protest now, perched atop a pylon. He should have spoken up more forcefully earlier.