He passed the napkin to Butler. “What do you think?”
Butler gave the message a summary glance. “I think he won’t try anything here. Too many cameras. If security doesn’t get him on film, a tourist will. If Kong goes for a double cross, it will be outside.”
“And by then it should be too late.”
“So we hope.”
The waitress returned with a bamboo tray, bearing a clay pot of tea and three glasses. Artemis took his time pouring himself some of the steaming liquid.
“How are you feeling, No1?”
“My leg hurts a bit.”
“The painkiller is wearing off. I’ll ask Butler to give you another shot later. Are you ready to go? Everything will be fine, I assure you.”
“All I have to do is open my hand?”
“As soon as we’re in the elevator.”
“That’s it. Do you want me to distract the bad man with some witty banter, like you do with Holly?”
“No. That won’t be necessary. Just open your hand.”
“Should I look scared?”
“That would be appropriate.”
“Good. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Butler was functioning in full-action mode. Generally, he reined himself in, walking with a slight stoop to avoid drawing attention. But now he stood tall and tensed, ready to spring into action. His gaze was fierce, and muscles bulged in his neck. He caught Billy Kong’s gaze and zeroed in on his eyeballs. Even across a crowded room, the hostility was palpable. A couple of psychically sensitive bystanders suddenly felt anxious and cast their eyes about for the nearest restroom.
When he was finished staring down Billy Kong, Butler knelt to give final instructions to No1.
“All you have to do is walk down to that table with the reserved sign. Wait until Minerva gets there, then continue on to Kong. If they hustle you out straightaway, count to twenty then open your hand. If they wait for us to leave, open your hand when the elevator doors have closed. Understand?”
“I understand everything. In any language you care to speak in.”
“Are you set?”
No1 took a deep breath. He could feel his tail vibrating anxiously. He had been in a bit of a daze since the time tunnel. How could anyone take all of this in? Skyscrapers, for heaven’s sake. Buildings that actually scraped the sky.
“I’m set,” he said.
“Off you go, then. Good luck.”
No1 began his long lonely walk back into captivity. Scores of humans thronged around him, excited, sweating, chewing things, pointing machines at one another.
Those would be cameras, I suppose.
The noon sun flashed through the ceiling-to-floor windows, catching on the silver of the mass damper, lighting it up like a disco ball. The tabletops loomed just above head height. Waiters and waitresses bustled past with loaded trays. Glasses fell, children screamed.
Too many people, thought No1. I miss demons. Even Abbot. Well, okay, maybe not Abbot.
No1 reached the reserved table. He had to stand on tippytoes to see the folded piece of card with the word printed on it. He lifted the flap on his bonnet to get a clear look. He was beginning to realize that a muumuu and bonnet were not typical Mud Child garb, as Artemis had told him.
This is a terrible disguise. I look like a freak. Surely someone will see that I am not human. I wish I could shield, like Holly.
Unfortunately, even if No1 could control his burgeoning magical powers, shielding had never been a weapon in the demon warlock arsenal.
No1 took a step to the right, squinting past the glare of the giant mass damper. Minerva was on her way down, taking small careful steps toward the reserved table. Behind her, Kong leaned forward in his seat, toes tapping with excitement and anticipation. He was like a dog on a leash with the scent of a fox in his nose.
Minerva arrived. She lifted the brim of No1’s bonnet to check it was him.
“It’s not my bonnet,” said No1. “And this is certainly not my muumuu.”
Minerva took his hand. Before the abduction she had been eighty percent genius and twenty percent twelve-year-old girl. Now it was about fifty-fifty. “I’m sorry for everything. For tying you up, and the rest. I thought you would try to eat me.”
“We’re not all savages,” said No1. “And my wrists did hurt for ages. But I forgive you, I suppose. As long as your tying-up days are over.”
“Over. Yes. I promise.” Minerva looked over No1’s head toward Artemis’s table. “Why is he helping me? Do you know?”
No1 shrugged. “I’m not sure. Holly, our friend, said it was something about puberty. Apparently you’re pretty, though to be honest, I can’t see it myself.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a whistle from farther down the bar. Billy Kong was growing impatient. The ex-Paradizo employee beckoned No1 on with his index finger.
“I should go. Leave. Depart.”
Minerva nodded. “Okay. Be careful. I will see you soon. Where is it? In your hand?”
“Yes,” said No1 automatically, then, “how did you know?”
Minerva walked on slowly. “Genius. Can’t help it.”
This place is littered with genii, thought No1. I just hope Mr. Kong isn’t another one.
He continued on his way, being careful to keep his feet and hands inside the muumuu. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a panic by exposing his gray stumpy digits.
Although, perhaps the humans would bow down and adore him. After all, he was incredibly handsome compared to their own gangly males.
Billy Kong was all smiles when No1 reached the table. On his face, a smile looked like the first symptom of a disease. His hair was spiked in perfect points. Even in the middle of a kidnapping, Kong still made time for his hair. Good grooming says a lot about a person.
“Welcome back, demon,” he said, grabbing a hank of the muumuu. “So nice to see you. If it is you. . . .”
“If it is me?” said No1, confused. “Me is all I can be.”
“Excuse me if I don’t take your word for it,” snorted Kong, tugging back the bonnet frill for a quick peek at No1’s face. “If that Fowl kid is half as smart as I’ve heard, then he’s sure to be trying something.”
Kong examined the imp’s face, poking the plate on his forehead, pulling back his lips to check the pink gums and square white teeth. Finally he traced the rune on No1’s forehead with his finger to make sure it wasn’t painted on.
“Satisfied?”
“Pretty much. I guess little Artemis didn’t have time to do a switch. I ran him too hard.”
“You ran us all too hard,” complained No1. “We had to fly here in a machine. I saw the moon close up.”
“You’re breaking my heart, demon. After what you did to my brother, you’re lucky to be alive. Something I hope to remedy in the next few minutes.”
No1 twisted his head to catch a glimpse of the elevators. Artemis, Butler, and Minerva were two steps away from the doors.
“Don’t look at them. They can’t help you. Nobody can help you.”
Kong clicked his fingers, and a muscular man joined them at the table. He was hefting a large metal suitcase.
“In case you’re wondering, this is a bomb. You know what a bomb is, don’t you?”
“Bomb,” said No1. “Explosive. Incendiary device.” His eyes widened. “But that could hurt someone. A lot of someones.”
“Exactly. Not humans, though. Demons. I am going to strap this on to you, set the timer, then send you back to your island. The blast should at the very least put a big dent in the demon population. You won’t be crossing over here for your little nighttime hunts for quite a while.”
“I won’t do it,” said No1, actually stamping his foot.
Kong laughed. “Are you sure you’re a demon? From what I hear, the last one was more . . . demonic.”
“I am a demon. A warlock demon.”
Kong leaned close enough for No1 to smell his citrus aftershave. “Well, little Mr. Warlock,
maybe you can turn this bomb into a bunch of flowers, but I doubt it.”
“I don’t have to do anything, because you can’t make me go back to Hybras.”
Kong took a set of handcuffs from his pocket. “On the contrary. I know exactly what to do. I picked up a thing or two in the Chateau. All we have to do is dig that silver slug out of your leg, and Hybras will suck you home.”
No1 glanced again toward the elevator. The doors were closing on his new friends.
“You mean this silver slug?” he asked, showing Kong what had been concealed in his hand.
“He took it out,” breathed Billy Kong. “Fowl took out the slug.”
“Took it out,” agreed No1. “Extracted. Removed.”
Then he dropped the silver nugget and disappeared.
Holly had been crouched on the mass damper watching events unfold. So far, everything had gone according to plan. Minerva had reached Artemis, and Butler had hustled them both to the elevator. At the other end of the bar, Billy Kong was doing his whole grinning-psycho bit. When this was all over, that Mud Man would have to be mind-wiped. There would be quite a few loose ends to clear up, actually. Not by her, though; she was not LEP anymore. After this she would be lucky to be Section 8.
Holly tapped a button on her wrist computer, zooming in on No1. The imp raised his left hand. The signal. This was it. Time to test theories. It was either hello again or good-bye forever.
Artemis’s plan was a risky one because his calculations were theoretical, but it was the only chance to save the demon island. And Artemis had been right so far. If Holly had to rely on someone’s theories, she would prefer those theories to be Artemis Fowl’s.
As Holly watched No1 drop the silver slug and disappear, she could not resist snapping a photo of Kong’s face with her helmet camera. His reaction was priceless. They would have a good laugh over that later.
Then she activated her wings, rising above the giant silver ball, watching for signs.
Seconds later, a faint blue electrical rectangle began spinning at the silver ball’s crown, exactly where Artemis had known it would. No1 was coming back. Just as Artemis had predicted.
Such a large mass of silver within ten feet should interrupt No1’s journey home. It should cause a momentary materialization at the summit, where the damper’s energy field is most concentrated. You, Holly, have to be there to make sure this momentary materialization becomes more permanent.
On the mass damper, No1’s shape was visible inside the glowing rectangle. He seemed a little confused, as though half asleep. One arm snaked through into this world, grasping at reality. It was enough for Holly. She darted down and clamped a silver bracelet around No1’s gray wrist. The ghostly fingers wiggled, then solidified. Solidity sped along No1’s arm like gray paint, rescuing him from limbo. In seconds, where there had only been space, now crouched a shivering creature.
“Did I go?” asked the little imp. “Am I back?”
“Yes and yes,” said Holly. “Now stay quiet and still. We have to get you out of here.”
The mass damper swung slowly, dissipating the wind power buffeting Taipei 101. Holly leaned into the sway, grabbed hold of No1, and took off vertically, careful to keep her cargo shielded by the seven hundred ton silver ball.
The next floor up was another observation deck, but it was closed for renovation. A single workman was slicing carpet for a corner section, and he did not seem surprised to see a muumuu-clad imp come sailing over the railing.
“Hey,” he said. “It’s an imp in a muumuu. You know something, imp?”
No1 landed on the floor with a thump. “No,” he said cautiously. “Tell me something.”
“I am not a bit surprised to see you,” said the man. “In fact, you are so unremarkable, that I am going to forget all about you as soon as you’ve gone.”
No1 picked himself up, straightening his bonnet. “You’ve had a talk with him, I see.”
Holly switched off her shield and speckled into view. “I gave him a blast of the mesmer.” She peered over the railing, down into the restaurant. “Come here, No1. You’ll enjoy this.”
No1 placed his fingers against the glass. Kong and his cronies were creating chaos below, blundering toward the elevators. Kong was particularly perturbed, barging ourists from his path and overturning tables.
“We probably don’t have time for this,” said No1.
“Probably not,” agreed Holly. Neither fairy moved.
“Hey, look,” said the workman. “Another fairy. How utterly unremarkable.”
Only when the Toshiba elevator doors had closed behind Billy Kong and his crew, did Holly turn to leave.
“Where to now?” asked No1, wiping a happy tear from his eye.
“Now we go to stage two,” replied Holly, pressing the button for the elevator. “Time to save Hybras.”
“Never a dull moment,” said No1, scurrying into the metal box. “Hey, my first cliché.”
Artemis and Butler had watched Minerva cross the restaurant toward them. She held herself with considerable courage under the circumstances. Her chin was up and she had a determined look in her eye.
“Butler, can I ask you something?” said Artemis.
Butler was trying to keep an eye on every single person in the restaurant.
“I’m a little busy at the moment, Artemis.”
“Nothing taxing. Just a ‘yes’or‘no’answer. Is it normal, during puberty, to feel these blasted feelings of attraction at stressful times? During a ransom drop, for instance.”
“She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
“Extremely. And funny, too—remember that quark joke?”
“I do. We must have a talk about jokes someday. Perhaps Minerva could join us. And in response to your question, it is normal. The more stressful the situation, the more your body pumps out the hormones.”
“Good. Back to business, then.”
Minerva didn’t rush. She picked her way around tourists and tables as she walked steadily toward them.
When she drew level, Butler placed a guiding and protective hand on her back.
“Get kidnapped every day, do you?” he growled, steering her toward the elevator.
Artemis followed, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure they were not being pursued. Kong was not even looking at them, so happy was he with his prize.
The elevator opened and the trio stepped inside. On the elevator wall, the floor light was rapidly winking downward.
Artemis held out his hand to Minerva. “Artemis Fowl the Second. Pleased to meet you finally.”
Minerva shook his hand warmly. “Minerva Paradizo. Likewise. You gave up your demon for me. I do appreciate it.” She blushed slightly.
The elevator slowed to a smooth stop, and the steel doors slid open with barely a hiss.
Minerva peeked out. “This is not the lobby. Why aren’t we leaving?”
Artemis stepped out onto the fortieth floor. “Our work here is not finished. I need to get our demon back, and it’s about time you knew what you almost went up against.”
CHAPTER 12
HEART OF STONE
Taipei 101, 40th Floor, Kimsichiog Gallery
Artemis strode through the Kimsichiog Gallery lobby, flanked by Butler and Minerva.
“We’re in an art gallery,” said Minerva. “Do we really have time for art?”
Artemis halted, surprised. “There’s always time for art,” he said. “But we’re here for a very special piece of art.”
“Which is?”
Artemis pointed at painted silk banners hanging at regular intervals from the ceiling. Each banner was emblazoned with a single dramatic spiraling rune.
“I follow what is happening in the art world. This exhibition is of particular interest to me. The centerpiece is the remains of a fantastic sculpture. A semicircle of strange dancing creatures. Maybe ten thousand years old. Believed to have been found off the shore of Ireland, and yet here it is, in Taiwan, being exhibited by an American oil
company.”
“Artemis, why are we here? I need to get home to my father.”
“Don’t you recognize the rune? Haven’t you seen it somewhere?”
Minerva remembered immediately. “Mais oui! Certainement. It is the rune from the demon’s forehead. The very same.”
Artemis snapped his fingers and continued walking.
“Exactly. When I met No1, I knew his markings looked familiar. It took me a while to remember where I had seen them before, but once I knew, then it occurred to me that maybe this sculpture was not a sculpture at all.”
Minerva’s brain raced ahead. “It was the ring of warlocks. From the original time spell.”
“Precisely. What if they were not blasted into space? What if one of them had had the quick thinking to use the gargoyle’s touch, to turn them all to stone?”
“And if No1 is a warlock, then he is the only one who can reanimate them.”
“Very good, Minerva. You catch on quick. Young, quick, and arrogant. You remind me of someone. Who could that be?”
“Beats me,” said Butler, rolling his eyes.
“But how did you set this up?” the French girl wondered aloud. “The meeting site was Kong’s idea. I heard him on the phone.”
Artemis smiled at his own cleverness. “While he was thinking about it, I said, ‘I’ll be wearing a burgundy tie. Pay attention to that. There are a hundred and one ways this could go wrong. If it does, the police could tie one of us up for a long time.’ Do you see?”
Minerva plucked at a curl thoughtfully. “Mon Dieu!You used the power of suggestion. Tie pay. A hundred and one. Tie one.”
“Or what Kong’s subconscious heard: Taipei 101, Taiwan.”
“Brilliant, Artemis. Extraordinary. And coming from me, that means something.”
“It was brilliant,” said Artemis, with his characteristic lack of modesty. “Allied to the fact that Kong’s second home is Taiwan, I was reasonably confident that it would work.”
There was a harried-looking man at the gallery’s reception desk. He was dressed in a neon-blue suit, and his head was completely shaven, except for a spiral of stubble in the shape of No1’s rune. He spoke in rapid Taiwanese into a Bluetooth headset clipped to his ear.