In three quick strides the bodyguard moved to Holly’s vat and netted the elf in his blanket. She struggled and fought, but never had a chance against Butler’s formidable strength. In ten seconds Holly was hog-tied and hoisted over the bodyguard’s shoulder. In five more seconds Butler was out of the gate and lost in the gathering crowds of the medina.
It all happened so quickly that Artemis’s jaw did not have time to drop. One moment he was in control, enjoying the smugness that comes with being the smartest person in the metaphorical room. The next he was crashing back to earth, having sacrificed his queen for a rook, realizing he was up against somebody just as smart as he was, only twice as ruthless.
He felt the pallor of desperation creep across his forehead, leaving pins and needles in its wake.
They have Holly. The Extinctionists will put her on trial on charges of breathing human air.
A thought occurred to him: Every defendant is entitled to a good lawyer.
CHAPTER 12
GONE FOREVER
La Domaine des Hommes, Extinctionists’ Compound, Fez
Artemis the younger agreed to accompany Dr. Kronski to his gated compound near the medina. Kronski’s Land Rover was considerably more luxurious than Artemis’s rented model, complete with powerful air-conditioning, water cooler, and white tiger upholstery.
Artemis ran a finger through the fur and was not surprised to find that it was real.
“Nice seats,” he commented drily.
Kronski did not answer. He hadn’t spoken much since losing the lemur, except to mutter to himself, cursing the unfairness of it all. It didn’t seem to bother him that his suit was covered in dye, which was transferring itself to his expensive upholstery.
Though it took barely five minutes to reach the compound, Artemis was glad of the thinking space. By the time the Land Rover was cleared through the reinforced gates, he had any wrinkles in his strategy straightened out, and he’d used the spare two minutes to plot one of the romance novels he occasionally wrote under the pseudonym Violet Tsirblou.
A guard with bulk to match Butler’s waved them through, underneath a walkway arch in the twelve-foot wall. Artemis kept his eyes open on the way in, noting the armed guards patrolling the ten-acre compound, and the position of the generator hut, and the staff quarters.
Information is power.
The residential chalets were built in the style of Californian beach houses, flat roofs, and plenty of glass, clustered around a man-made beach, complete with a wave machine and lifeguard. There was a large conference center in the middle of the compound, with a scaffold-clad spire jutting from its roof. Two men were perched on the scaffolding, putting the finishing touches to a brass icon on the spire’s tip. And even though most of the icon was wrapped in canvas, Artemis could see enough to know what it was. A human arm with the world in its fist. The symbol of the Extinctionists.
Kronski’s driver parked in front of the compound’s grandest chalet, and the doctor led the way inside wordlessly. He flapped a hand toward a hide-covered sofa, and disappeared into his bedroom.
Artemis was hoping for a shower and a change of clothes, but apparently Kronski was too upset for courtesy, so Artemis was forced to tug at the collar of his itchy shirt and wait for his host’s return.
Kronski’s reception lounge was a macabre space. One wall was covered with certificates of extinction, complete with photographs of the unfortunate animals and the dates on which the Extinctionists managed to murder the last one of the particular species.
Artemis browsed the photo wall. Here was a Japanese sea lion and a Yangtze river dolphin. A Guam flying fox and a Bali tiger.
All gone forever.
The only way to see these creatures would be to somehow build up enough momentum to travel faster than the speed of light and go back in time.
There were further horrors in the room, all labeled for educational purposes. The sofa was upholstered with the pelts of Falkland Island wolves. The base of a standing lamp was fashioned from the skull of a western black rhinoceros.
Artemis struggled to maintain his composure.
I need to get out of here as quickly as possible.
But the faint voice of his conscience reminded him that leaving this place would not mean that it no longer existed, and selling the strange creature to Kronski would only draw more people to it.
Artemis conjured a picture of his father in his mind.
Whatever it takes. Whatever I have to do.
Kronski entered the room, showered and wearing a flowing kaftan, his eyes red rimmed as though he’d been crying.
“Sit down, Ah-temis,” he said, gesturing toward the sofa with a hide-bound fly swatter.
Artemis eyed the seat. “No. I think I’ll stand.”
Kronski sank into an office chair. “Oh, I get it. Grown-up sofa. It’s difficult to be taken seriously when your feet don’t touch the ground.”
The doctor rubbed his eyes with stubby thumbs, then donned his trademark glasses.