OPERATIONS' BOOTH, POLICE PLAZA

 

FOALY was sitting in front of the LEP mainframe waiting for the results of his latest search. Extensive laser brushing of the goblin shuttle had revealed one complete and one partial thumbprint. The complete print was his own. Easily explicable as Foaly personally inspected all retired shuttle parts. The partial print could well belong to their traitor. Not enough to identify the fairy who'd been running LEP technology to the B'wa Kell, but certainly enough to eliminate the innocent. Cross-reference the remaining names with everybody who had shuttle-part access, and the list got considerably shorter. Foaly switched his tail contentedly. Genius. No point in being humble about it.

At the moment, the computer was crunching through personnel files with the partial print. All Foaly could do was twiddle his thumbs and wait for contact with the surface team. The magma flares were still up. Very unusual. Unusual and coincidental.

Foaly's suspicious train of thought was interrupted by a familiar voice.

'Search complete,' said the computer, in Foaly's own tones. A little vanity. 'Three hundred and forty-six eliminated. Forty possibles remaining.'

Forty. Not bad. They could easily be interviewed. An opportunity to use the Retimager once again. But there was another way to narrow the field.

'Computer. Cross-reference possibles with Level Three clearance personnel.' Level Three clearance would include everybody with access to the recycling smelters.

'Referencing.'

Of course, the computer would only accept commands from fairies whose voice patterns it was programmed to recognize. And as a further security precaution, Foaly had coded his personal log and other important files in a computer language he'd based on the ancient tongue of the centaurs: Centaurian.

All centaurs were a touch paranoid, and with good reason, since there were less than a hundred left. The humans had managed to kill off their cousins, the unicorns, altogether. There were probably six centaurs under the Earth who could read the language, and only one who could decipher the computer dialect.

Centaurian was possibly the oldest form of writing, dating back over ten millennia to when humans first began hunting fairies. The opening paragraph of The Scrolls of Capalla, the only surviving illuminated Centaurian manuscript, read:

Fairy creatures, heed this warning,

On Earth, the human era is dawning.

So hide, fairy, lest you be found,

And make a home beneath the ground.

Centaurs were known for their intellect, not their poetry. Still, Foaly felt the words were as relevant today as they had been all those centuries ago.

Cudgeon knocked on the booth's security glass. Now, technically, Cudgeon shouldn't be allowed in Ops, but Foaly buzzed him through. He could never resist having a crack at the ex-commander. Cudgeon had been demoted to lieutenant following a disastrous attempt to replace Root as Recon head honcho. If it hadn't been for his family's considerable political clout, he would have been booted off the force altogether. All in all, he might have been better off in some other line of work. At least he wouldn't have had to suffer Foaly's constant teasing.

‘I have some e-forms for you to initial,' said the lieutenant, avoiding eye-contact.

'No problem, Commander,' chuckled the centaur. 'How's the plotting going? Any revolutions planned for this afternoon?'

'Just sign the forms please,' said Cudgeon holding out a digi-pen. His hand was shaking.

Amazing, thought Foaly. This broken-down shell of an elf was once on the LEP fast track.

'No, but seriously, Cudgeon. You're doing a bang-up job on the form-signing thing.'

Cudgeon's eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'Thank you, sir.'

A grin tugged at the corner of Foaly's mouth. 'You're welcome. No need to get a swelled head.'

Cudgeon's hand flew to his misshapen forehead. Still a touch of the old vanity left.

'Oops. Sore subject. Sorry about that.'

There was a spark in the corner of Cudgeon's eye. A spark that should have warned Foaly. But he was distracted by a beep from the computer.

'List complete.'

'Excuse me for a moment, Commander. Important business. Computer stuff, you wouldn't understand it.'

Foaly turned to the plasma screen. The lieutenant would just have to wait for his signature. It was probably just an order for shuttle parts anyway.

The penny dropped. A big penny with a clang louder than a dwarf's underpants hitting a wall. Shuttle parts. An inside job. Someone with a grudge to settle. A line of sweat filled each groove on Foaly's forehead. It was so obvious.

He looked at the plasma screen for confirmation of what he already knew. There were only two names. The first, Bom Arbles, could be eliminated immediately. The Retrieval officer had been killed in a core-diving accident. The second name pulsed gently. Lieutenant Briar Cudgeon. Demoted to recycling crew around the time Holly retired that starboard booster. It all made sense.

Foaly knew that if he didn't acknowledge the message in ten seconds, the computer would read the name aloud. He casually punched the delete button.

'You know, Briar,' he croaked. 'All those jibes about your head problem. It's all in fun. My way of being sympathetic. Actually, I have some ointment ...'

Something cold and metallic pressed against the back of the centaur's head. Foaly had seen too many rock 'em sock 'em movies not to know what it was.

'Save your ointment, donkey boy,' said Cudgeon's voice in his ear. T have a feeling you'll be developing some head problems of your own.'

 

THE MAYAK CHEMICAL TRAIN, NORTHERN RUSSIA

 

The first thing Artemis felt was a rhythmical knocking, jarring along the length of his spine. I'm at the spa in Blackrock, he thought. Irina is massaging my back. Just what my system needs, especially after all that horseplay on the train . . .The train!

Obviously they were still aboard the Mayak train. The jerking motion was actually the carriage jolting over the track joins. Artemis forced his eyes open, expecting gargantuan doses of stiffness and pain. But instead he realized he felt fine. More than fine. Great in fact. It must be magic. Holly must have healed his various cuts and bruises while he was unconscious.

Nobody else was feeling quite so chipper. Especially Captain Short, who was still unconscious. Root was draping a large coat over his fallen officer.

'Oh, you're awake, are you?' he said, without so much as a glance at Artemis. 'I don't know how you can sleep at all after what you've just done.'

'Done? But I saved you ... at least, I helped.'

'You helped all right, Fowl. You helped yourself to the last of Holly's magic while she was unconscious.'

Artemis groaned. It must have happened when they fell. Somehow her magic had been diverted. 'I see what must have happened. It was an ..."

Root raised a warning finger. 'Don't say it. The great Artemis Fowl doesn't do anything by accident.'

Artemis fought against the train's motion, climbing to his knees. 'It can't be anything serious. Just exhaustion, surely?'

And suddenly Root's face was a centimetre from his own, his complexion rosy enough to generate heat. 'Nothing serious!' spluttered the commander, barely able to get the words out in his rage. 'Nothing serious! She lost her trigger finger! The door cut it clean off. Her career is over. And because of you, Holly barely had enough magic to stop the bleeding. She's drained of power now. Empty.'

'She lost a finger?' echoed Artemis numbly.

'Not lost exactly,' said the commander, waving the severed digit. 'It poked me in the eye on the way past.' His eye was already beginning to blacken.

'If we go back now, surely your surgeons can graft it on?'

Root shook his head. 'If we could go back now. I have a feeling that the situation below ground is a lot different from when we left. If the goblins sent a hit team to get us, you can bet something big is going on below ground.'

Artemis was shocked. Holly had saved all their lives, and this was how he had repaid her. While it was true that he was not directly to blame for the injury, it had been inflicted while trying to save his father. There was a debt to be paid here.

'How long?' he snapped.

'What?'

'How long ago did it happen?'

'I don't know. A minute.'

'Then there's still time.'

The commander sat up. 'Time for what?'

'We can still save the finger.'

Root rubbed a welt of fresh scar tissue on his shoulder, a reminder of his trip along the side of the train. 'With what? I barely have enough power left for the mesmer.'

Artemis closed his eyes. Concentrating. 'What about the Ritual? There must be a way.'

All the People's magic came from the Earth. In order to top up their powers, they had to periodically complete the Ritual.

'How can we complete the Ritual here?'

Artemis racked his brain. He had committed large sections of the Fairy Book to memory in preparation for the previous year's kidnapping operation.

'From the earth thine power flows,

Given through courtesy, so thanks are owed.

Pluck thou the magick seed,

Where full moon, ancient oak and twisted water meet.

And bury it far from where it was found,

So return your gift into the ground.'

Artemis scrambled across the flooring and began patting down Holly's jumpsuit.

Root's heart nearly shut down then and there. 'In heaven's name, Mud Boy, what are you doing?'

Artemis didn't even look up. 'Last year, Holly escaped because she had an acorn.'

Through some miracle, the commander managed to restrain himself. 'Five seconds, Fowl. Talk fast.'

'An officer like Holly wouldn't forget something like that. I'd be willing to bet ..."

Root sighed. 'It's a good idea, Mud Boy. But the acorns have to be freshly picked. If it hadn't been for the time-stop, that seed mightn't have worked. You've got a couple of days, tops. I know Foaly and Holly put together some proposal for a sealed acorn unit, but the Council rejected it. Heresy apparently.'

It was a long speech for the commander. He wasn't used to explaining himself. But a part of him was hoping. Maybe, just maybe. Holly had never been averse to bending a few rules.

Artemis unzipped Captain Short's tunic. There were two tiny items on the gold chain around her neck. Her copy of the Book, the fairy bible. Artemis knew that it would combust if he tried to touch it without Holly's permission. But there was another item. A small plexiglass sphere filled with earth.

'That's against regulations,' said Root, not sounding too upset.

Holly stirred, half-emerging from her stupor. 'Hey, Commander. What happened to your eye?'

Artemis ignored her, cracking the tiny sphere against the carriage floor. Earth and a small acorn tumbled into his palm. 'Now all we need to do is bury it.'

The commander slung Holly over his shoulder. Artemis tried not to look at the space where her index finger used to be.

'Then it's time to get off this train.'

Artemis glanced at the Arctic landscape whipping past outside the carriage. Getting off the train wasn't as easy as the commander made it sound.

Butler dropped nimbly through the overhead hatch, where he'd been keeping an eye on the goblin hit squad.

'Nice to see you're so limber,' commented Artemis drily.

The manservant smiled. 'Good to see you too, Artemis.'

'Well? What did you see up there?' said Root, interrupting the reunion.

Butler placed a hand on his young master's shoulders. They could talk later. 'The goblins are gone. Funny thing. Two of them dropped low for reconnaissance, then the other one shot them in the back.'

Root nodded. 'Power play. Goblins are their own worst enemies. But right now, we've got to get off this train.'

'There's another bend coming up in about half a klick,' said Butler. 'That's our best chance.'

'So, how do we disembark?' asked Artemis.

Butler grinned. 'Disembark is a pretty gentle term for what I have in mind.'

Artemis groaned. More running and jumping.

 

OPERATIONS' BOOTH

 

Foaly's brain was bubbling like a sea slug in a deep-fat fryer. He still had options, providing Cudgeon didn't actually shoot him. One shot and it was all over. Centaurs didn't have magic. Not a drop. They got by on brains alone. That and their ability to trample their enemies underfoot. But Foaly had a feeling that Briar wouldn't plug him just yet. Too busy gloating.

'Hey, Foaly,' said the lieutenant. 'Why don't you go for the intercom? See what happens.'

Foaly could guess what would happen. 'Don't worry, Briar. No sudden moves.'

Cudgeon laughed, and he sounded genuinely happy. 'Briar? First name terms now, is it?You must realize how much trouble you're in.'

Foaly was starting to realize just that. Beyond the tinted glass, LEP techs were beavering away trying to track down the mole, oblivious to the drama being played out not two metres away. He could see and hear them, but it was one-way surveillance.

The centaur had only himself to blame. He had insisted that the Operations' booth be constructed to his own paranoid standards. A titanium cube with blast-proof windows. The entire room was wireless, not even a fibre-optic cable to connect Operations to the ............