She ran a finger along the small strip in her hand until all the tiny lights had turned green. A one word message scrolled across the strip: Detonate?
Absolutely, thought Holly, and pressed the YES box.
A vat blew, sending a column of red dye shooting twenty feet into the air. Several more vats quickly followed suit, thumping like mortars, hurling their contents into the Moroccan sky.
A symphony of color, thought Artemis from his perch. Butler’s view is totally obscured.
Below in the souk, pandemonium was instantaneous. The leather workers roared and shouted, oohing like spectators at a fireworks show as each new colored fountain erupted. Some realized that their precious leathers were being coated with the wrong hues and began to feverishly gather their wares and tools. Within seconds it was raining gouts of dye, and the spaces between the vats were thronged with frantic workers and spooked tourists.
Young Artemis stood stock still, ignoring the flying dye, his gaze fixed on Damon Kronski and the lemur in his fist.
Watch the animal. They want the animal.
Kronski squealed with each explosion, balancing on a single leg like a scared ballet dancer.
Priceless, thought Artemis, and shot a few seconds of video on his phone. Something else was about to happen, he felt sure of it.
And he was right. Artemis had a vague impression that the earth exploded in front of Kronski’s feet. Mud mushroomed upward, something moved in the curtain of earth, and then the lemur was gone.
Dr. Kronski was left holding a blob of slime, which glowed slightly in the evening shadows.
The last drops of dye fell, and slowly the chaos retreated. The leatherworkers shook their heads in wonder, then began to curse their luck. A day’s profit gone.
Kronski squealed for several seconds after the dust had cleared, holding the note like an opera singer.
Artemis grinned nastily. “It isn’t over until the fat lady sings, so I suppose it’s over.”
The doctor was snapped out of it by Artemis’s tone. He composed himself, standing on two feet and breathing deeply as the red spots retreated from his cheeks. It was not until he tried to wipe the gunk from his hand that he realized the lemur was no longer in his grasp. As he stared in disbelief at his fingers, Kronski felt the stuff coating his fingers harden into a glowing gauntlet.
“What have you done, Artemis?”
Ah, thought Artemis. Suddenly you can pronounce my name.
“I have done nothing, Damon. I delivered the lemur, you lost him. The problems here are all yours.”
Kronski was livid; he tore off his glasses to reveal red-rimmed eyes. “You have tricked me, Fowl. Somehow you are a participant in this. I cannot host an Extinctionist conference without a strong opening. The execution of that lemur was my big ‘Hello, everyone.’”
Artemis’s phone beeped, and he glanced at the screen. A brief text from Butler.
Mission accomplished.
He pocketed the cell phone and smiled broadly at Kronski.
“A strong opening. I may be able to help you with that. For a price, naturally.”
Artemis the elder sat in the cham-pod watching events unfurling below. Everything had gone exactly to plan, with the exception of the dye vats, which actually exceeded Artemis’s expectations.
Butler’s view is completely blocked, he thought. And then he froze suddenly. Of course! I wouldn’t have placed Butler in that window at all. I would have put a decoy there, as it is one of the five logical places for a sniper to set up. In fact, I would have put a decoy in all five spots and then had Butler hide himself somewhere on the souk floor, ready to step in if those pesky lemur-nappers showed up again, which they very well could, as they seem to know my every move. I, Artemis Fowl, have been bamboozled by myself.
Suddenly, a horrifying thought struck him.
“Holly!” he shouted into the microphone pad adhered to his thumb. “Abort! Abort!”
“What . . .” came the crackly response. “The noise . . . I think . . . damaged.”
Then a few seconds of white noise, sharp snaps, and silence.
It was too late. Artemis could only press his face against the screen and watch helplessly as one of the leatherworkers shrugged off his shoulder blanket and straightened, revealing himself to be far taller than he had previously appeared. It was, of course, Butler, with a handheld infrared scanner extended before him.
Butler. Don’t do it, old friend. I know you were never comfortable with my schemes.