“Five million at today’s market price,” he said. “You said five and we agreed. No upping the price now.”
Artemis smiled. The doctor was hooked.
“Five million,” he said. “Plus expenses.”
Artemis the elder rode back to the landing site on a collapsible LEP scooter designed to resemble a 1950s human Lambretta. The resemblance was only bumper deep, as there were not many Lambrettas that came equipped with clean nuclear batteries, Gnommish satellite navigation, and self-destruct buttons.
The Ifrane road outside the imperial city was part of the fertile Fez river basin and was lined with olive groves and golf courses.
Ancient and modern. Coexisting.
Overhead the stars seemed closer and fiercer than at home in Ireland, shining down like stadium lights, as though Africa were somehow closer to the rest of the universe.
I lost her. I lost Holly.
But he did have a plan. A half-decent plan. All it needed was a bit of fairy technology to open a few doors, and then there was still a chance. Because without Holly, all was lost. There would be no future for any of them.
It took almost an hour to find the particular golf course where Holly had parked the LEP shuttle. Not that there was much evidence of a craft in that spot, besides a slightly flat plane of sand in the bunker. Holly had nosed the shuttle deep into the dry sand and left the shield powered on. Artemis only found it himself with the help of the bike’s navigation systems.
He collapsed the scooter into a Frisbee-size disk and climbed down through the roof hatch. Mulch Diggums was idly swiveling himself in the pilot’s chair. “That’s my scooter, Mud Boy,” he said. “That came off the trolley, so I take it with me.” Artemis shut the hatch behind him. “Where’s the lemur? Where’s Jayjay?”
Mulch answered these questions with some of his own. “Where’s Holly? Have you lost her?”
“Yes,” Artemis admitted miserably. “The boy outwitted me. He knew we would come for the lemur. He sacrificed it to get Holly.”
“Smart,” said Mulch. “Anyway, I’m off, see you . . .”
“See you? See you? One of your fairy comrades is in danger and you’re just going to desert her?”
Mulch raised his palms. “Hey, calm down, Mud Boy. The LEP are not my comrades. We had a deal: I get you the little furry fellow and you get me a trolley of LEP tech goodies. Job done, both parties happy.”
At that moment Jayjay poked his head around the bathroom door.
“What’s he doing in there?”
Mulch grinned. “Take two guesses.”
“Lemurs cannot use advanced plumbing.”
“See for yourself. Whatever’s in there, I’m blaming Jayjay.”
He clicked his furry fingers, and the lemur ran along his arm, onto his head.
“See? He accepts responsibility.” Mulch frowned. “You’re not going to trade this fellow for Captain Short, are you?”
“No point,” said Artemis, accessing the LEP central database. “It would be like trying to trade a hairpin for Excalibur.”
Mulch chewed his lip. “I’m familiar with the Excalibur story, so I know what you’re trying to say there. A hairpin is useless, Excalibur is wonderful, and so on. But in some instances a hairpin is extremely useful. Now, if you had said a rubber hairpin . . . Do you see what I’m getting at?”
Artemis ignored him, tapping furiously at the V-board that had appeared in front of him. He needed to know everything he could about the Extinctionists, and Foaly had an extensive file on them.
Mulch tickled Jayjay under the chin. “I was getting pretty fond of Captain Short, against my better judgment. I suppose I could dig in and rescue her.”
This was a genuine offer and a fair point, so Artemis spared a moment to address it.
“Not possible. Kronski has seen the tunnel rescue before and he won’t fall for it again. At any rate, you wouldn’t survive the temperature during the day. Even underground you wouldn’t be safe. The earth is so dry that cracks can penetrate up to fifty feet in open ground. One pinprick of midday sun and you would crisp like an old book in a furnace.”
Mulch winced. “Now you see that image works really well. So what are you going to do?”
Artemis used the advanced fairy technology to print a leopard print card with an Extinctionists’ hologram flashing silver and purple in the center.
“I’m going to the Extinctionists’ banquet tonight,” he said, flicking the card with his forefinger. “After all, I have been invited. All I need is a disguise and some medical supplies.”
Mulch was impressed. “That’s very good. You’re almost as devious as I am.”
Artemis turned back to the V-board. It would take time to firm up his cover.