“When are you coming home, my dear? I miss you.”
“Today, Papa, in a few hours. How is everything there?”
The man smiled dreamily. “Molto bene. Wonderful. The weather is fine. We can take a drive to the mountains. Perhaps I can teach you to ski.”
Opal frowned impatiently. “Listen to me, idiota . . . Papa. How is everything with the probe? Are we on schedule?”
For a moment, a flash of annoyance wrinkled the Italian’s brow, then he was bewitched again. “Yes, my dear. Everything is on schedule. The explosive pods are being buried today. The probe’s systems’ check was a resounding success.”
Opal clapped her hands, the picture of a delighted daughter. “Excellent, Papa. You are so good to your little Belinda. I will be with you soon.”
“Hurry home, my dear,” said the man, utterly lost without the creature he believed to be his daughter.
Opal ended the call. “Fool,” she said contemptuously. But Giovanni Zito would be allowed to live at least until the probe he was constructing to her specifications punctured the Lower Elements. Now that she had spoken to Zito, Opal was eager to concentrate on the probe portion of her plan. Revenge was certainly sweet, but it was also a distraction. Perhaps she should just dump these two from the shuttle and let the earth’s magma core have them.
“Merv,” she barked. “How long to the theme park?”
Merv checked the instruments on the shuttle’s dashboard.
“We’ve just entered the main chute network, Miss Koboi. Five hours,” he called over his shoulder. “Perhaps less.”
Five hours, mused Opal, curling in her bucket seat like a contented cat. She could spare five hours.
Some time later, Artemis and Holly were stirring in their seats. Scant helped them into consciousness with a couple of jolts from a buzz baton.
“Welcome back to the land of the condemned,” said Opal. “How do you like my shuttle?”
The craft was impressive, even if it was ferrying Artemis and Holly to their deaths. The seats were covered with illegally harvested fur, and the décor was plusher than your average palace. There were small entertainment hologram cubes suspended from the ceiling, in case the passengers wanted to watch a movie.
Holly began to squirm when she noticed what she was sitting on. “Fur! You animal.”
“No,” said Opal. “You’re sitting on the animals. As I told you, I am human now. And that is what humans do, skin animals for their own comfort. Isn’t that right, Master Fowl?”
“Some do,” said Artemis coolly. “Not me personally.”
“Really, Artemis,” said Opal archly. “I hardly think that qualifies you for sainthood. From what I hear, you’re just as eager to exploit the People as I am.”
“Perhaps. I don’t remember.”
Opal rose from her seat and fixed herself a light salad from the buffet. “Of course, they mind-wiped you. But surely you must remember now? Not even your subconscious could deny that this is happening.”
Artemis concentrated. He could remember something. Vague out of focus images. Nothing very specific. “I do remember something.”
Opal lifted her eyes from her plate. “Yes?”
Artemis fixed her with a cool stare. “I remember how Foaly defeated you before with superior intellect. I am certain he will do it again.”
Of course, Artemis had not truly remembered this; he was simply repeating what Holly had told him. But the statement had the desired effect.
“That ridiculous centaur!” shrieked Opal, hurling her plate against the wall. “He was lucky, and I was hampered by that idiot Cudgeon. Not this time. This time I am the architect of my own fate. And of yours.”
“And what is it this time?” Artemis asked mockingly. “Another orchestrated rebellion? Or perhaps a mechanical dinosaur?”
Opal’s face grew white with rage. “Is there no end to your impudence, Mud Boy? No small-scale rebellions this time. I have a grander vision. I will lead the humans to the People. When the two worlds collide, there will be a war and my adopted people will win.”
“You’re a fairy, Koboi,” interjected Holly. “One of us. Rounded ears don’t change that. Don’t you think the humans will notice when you don’t get any taller?”
Opal patted Holly’s cheek almost affectionately. “My poor, dear, underpaid police officer. Don’t you think I thought of all this while I stewed in that coma for almost a year? Don’t you think I thought of everything? I have always known humans would discover us eventually, so I have prepared.” Opal leaned over, parting her jet-black hair to reveal a magically fading three-inch scar on her scalp. “Getting my ears rounded wasn’t the only surgery I had done. I also had something inserted in my skull.”
“A pituitary gland,” guessed Artemis.
“Very good, Mud Boy. A rather tiny artificial human pituitary gland. HGH is one of seven hormones secreted by the pituitary.”
“HGH?” interrupted Holly.
“Human growth hormone,” explained Artemis.
“Exactly. As the name implies, HGH enhances the growth of various organs and tissues, especially muscle and bone. In three months, I have already grown half an inch. Oh, maybe I’ll never make the basketball team, but no one will ever believe that I am a fairy.”
“You’re no fairy,” said Holly bitterly. “At heart you’ve always been human.”
“That’s supposed to be an insult, I suppose. Maybe I deserve that, considering what I am about to do to you. In an hour’s time, there won’t be enough of you two remaining to fill the booty box.”
This was a term that Artemis had not heard before. “Booty box? That sounds like a pirate expression.”
Opal opened a secret panel in the flooring, revealing a small compartment underneath. “This is a booty box. The term was coined by vegetable smugglers more than eight thousand years ago. A secret compartment that would go unnoticed by customs officials. Of course, these days, with X-ray, infrared, and motion-sensitive cameras, a booty box isn’t much good.” Opal smiled slyly, like a child who has put one over on her teacher. “Unless of course the box is completely constructed from stealth ore, refrigerated, and has internal projectors to fool X-ray and infrared. The only way to detect this booty box is to put your foot into it. So, even if the LEP did board my shuttle, they would not find whatever it is I am choosing to smuggle. Which in this case is a jar of chocolate truffles. Hardly illegal, but the cooler is full. Chocolate truffles are my passion, you know. All that time I was away, truffles were one of two things I craved. The other was revenge.”
Artemis yawned. “How fascinating. A secret compartment. What a genius you are. How can you fail to take over the world with a booty box full of truffles?”
Opal smoothed Artemis’s hair back from his forehead. “Make all the jokes you want, Mud Boy. Words are all you have now.”
Minutes later, Merv brought the stealth shuttle in to land. Artemis and Holly were cuffed and led down the retractable gangplank. They emerged into a giant tunnel dimly illuminated by Glo-Strips. Most of the lighting panels were shattered, the rest were on their last legs. This section of the chute had once been part of a thriving metropolis, but now was completely deserted and derelict. Demolition notices were pasted across various drooping billboards.
Opal pointed to one. “This whole place is being torn down in a month. We just made the deadline.”
“Lucky us,” muttered Holly.
Merv and Scant prodded them wordlessly along the chute with their gun barrels. The road surface beneath their feet was buckled and cracked. Swear toads clustered in damp patches, spouting obscenities. The roadside was lined with abandoned concession stands and souvenir shops. In one window, human dolls were arranged in various warlike poses.
Artemis stopped in spite of the gun at his back. “Is that how you see us?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” said Opal. “You’re much worse than that, but the manufacturers don’t want to scare the children.”
Several huge hemispherical structures squ
atted at the end of the tunnel. Each one the size of a football stadium. They were constructed of hexagonal panels welded together along the seams. Some panels were opaque, others were transparent. Each panel was roughly the dimensions of a small house.
Before the hemispheres was a huge arch, with strips of tattered gold leaf hanging from its frame. A sign hung from the arch, emblazoned with six-foot-high Gnommish letters.
“The Eleven Wonders of the Human World,” declared Opal theatrically. “Ten thousand years of civilization, and you only manage to produce eleven so-called wonders.”
Artemis tested his cuffs. They were tightly fastened. “You know of course that there are only seven wonders on the official list.”
“I know that,” said Opal testily. “But humans are so narrow-minded. Fairy scholars studied video footage and decided to include the Abu Simbel Temple in Egypt, the Moai Statues in Rapa Nui, the Borobudur Temple in Indonesia, and the Throne Hall of Persepolis in Iran.”
“If humans are so narrow-minded,” commented Holly. “I’m surprised that you want to be one of them.”
Opal passed through the arch. “Well, I would prefer to be a pixie, no offense Artemis, but the Fairy People are shortly to be wiped out. I shall be seeing to that personally as soon as I have dropped you off in your new home. In ten minutes I’ll be on my way to the island, watching you two get torn apart on the shuttle monitors.”
They proceeded through the theme park, past the first hemisphere, which contained a two-thirds scale model of the Great Pyramid of Giza. Several of the hexagonal panels had been ripped out and Artemis could see the remains of the model through the gaps. It was an impressive sight, made even more so by the scores of shaggy creatures scrambling across the pyramid’s slopes.
“Trolls,” explained Opal. “They have taken over the exhibits. But don’t worry, they are extremely territorial and won’t attack unless you approach the pyramid.”
Artemis was beyond amazement at this point, but even so, the sight of these magnificent carnivores preying on one another was enough to speed his heart up a few beats. He paused to study the nearest specimen. It was a terrifying creature: at least eight feet tall, with grimy dreadlocks swinging about its massive head. The troll’s fur-matted arms swung below its knees, and two curved serrated tusks jutted from its lower jaw. The beast watched them pass, night eyes glowing red in their sockets.
The group arrived at the second exhibit. The Temple of Artemis at Ephesus. The hologram by the entrance displayed a revolving image of the Turkish building.
Opal read the history panel. “Interesting,” she said. “Now, why do you suppose someone would name a male child after a female goddess?”
“It’s my father’s name,” said Artemis wearily, having explained this a hundred times. “It can be used for girls or boys, and means the hunter. Rather apt, don’t you think? It may interest you to know that your chosen human name, Belinda, means beautiful snake. Also rather fitting. Half of it, at any rate.”
Opal pointed a tiny finger at Artemis’s nose. “You are a very annoying creature, Fowl. I do hope all humans are not like you.”
She nodded at Scant.
“Spray them,” she ordered.
Scant took a small atomizer from his pocket and doused Holly and Artemis liberally with the contents. The liquid was yellow and foul smelling.
“Troll pheromones,” said Scant, almost apologetically. “These trolls will take one whiff of you and go absolutely crazy. To them you smell like females in heat. When they find out you’re not, they’ll tear you into a thousand little bits, then chew on the pieces. We’ve had all of the broken panels repaired, so there’s no escape. You can jump in the river if you like; the scent should wash off in about a thousand years. And, Captain Short, I have removed the wings from your suit and shorted out the cam-foil. I did leave the heating coils. After all, one deserves a sporting chance.”
A lot of use heating coils will be against trolls, thought Holly glumly.
Merv was checking the entrance through one of the transparent panels. “Okay. We’re clear.”
The pixie opened the main entrance by remote. Distant howls resonated from inside the exhibit. Artemis could see several trolls brawling on the steps of the replica temple. He and Holly would be torn apart.
The Brill brothers propelled them into the hemisphere.
“Best of luck,” said Opal, as the door slid shut. “Remember, you’re not alone. We’ll be watching you on the cameras.”
The door clanged shut ominously. Seconds later the electronic locking panel began to fizzle, as one of the Brill brothers melted it from the outside. Artemis and Holly were locked in with a bunch of amorous trolls and smelled irresistible to them.
The Temple of Artemis exhibit was a scale model that had been constructed with painstaking accuracy, complete with animatronic humans going about their daily business as they would have been in 400 B.C. Most of the human models had been stripped to the wires by the trolls, but some moved jerkily along their tracks, bringing their gifts to the goddess. Any robot whose path brought them too close to a pack of trolls was pounced on and torn to shreds. It was a grim preview of Artemis and Holly’s own fate.
There was only one food supply. The trolls themselves. Cubs and stragglers were picked off by the bulls and butchered with teeth, claws, and tusks. The pack leader took the lion’s share, then tossed the carcass to the baying pack. If the trolls were confined here much longer, they would wipe themselves out.
Holly shouldered Artemis roughly to the ground. “Quickly,” she said. “Roll in the mud. Cover yourself, smother the scent.”
Artemis did as he was told, scooping mud over himself with his manacled hands. Any spots he missed were quickly slathered by Holly. He did the same for her. In moments the pair were almost unrecognizable.
Artemis was feeling something he could not remember having felt before: absolute fear. His hands shook, rattling the chains. There was no room in his brain for analytical thought. I can’t, he thought. I can’t do anything.
Holly took charge, dragging him to his feet and propelling him to a cluster of fake merchants’ tents beside a fast-flowing river. They crouched behind the ragged canvas, peering at the trolls through long claw rents in the material. Two animatronic merchants sat on mats before the tents, their baskets brimming with gold and ivory statuettes of the goddess Artemis. Neither model had a head. One of the heads lay in the dust several feet away, its artificial brain poking out through a bite hole.
“We need to get the cuffs off,” said Holly urgently.
“What?” mumbled Artemis.
Holly shook her manacles in his face. “We need to get these off now! The mud will protect us for a minute, then the trolls will be on our trail. We have to get in the water, and with cuffs on we’ll drown in the current.”
Artemis’s eyes had lost their focus. “The current?”
“Snap out of it, Artemis,” Holly hissed into his face. “Remember your gold? You can’t collect it if you’re dead. The great Artemis Fowl, collapsing at the first sign of trouble. We’ve been in worse scrapes than this before.” Not exactly true, but the Mud Boy couldn’t remember, could he?
Artemis composed himself. There was no time for a calming meditation; he would simply have to repress the emotions he was experiencing. Very unhealthy, psychologically speaking, but better than being reduced to chunks of meat between a troll’s teeth.
He studied the cuffs. Some form of ultralight plastic polymer. There was a digit pad in the center, positioned so the wearer could not reach the digits.
“How many numbers?” he said.
“What?”
“In the code for the cuffs. You are a police officer. Surely you know how many numbers in the code for handcuffs.”
“Three,” replied Holly. “But there are so many possibilities.”
“Possibilities but not probabilities,” said Artemis, irritating even when his life was in danger. “Statistically, thirty-eight percent of humans
don’t bother changing the factory code on digital locks. We can only hope that fairies are equally negligent.”
Holly frowned. “Opal is anything but negligent.”
“Perhaps. But her two little henchfairies might not be as attentive to detail.”
Artemis held out his cuffs to Holly. “Try three zeroes.”
Holly did so, using a thumb. The red light stayed red.
“Nines. Three nines.”
Again the light stayed red.
Holly quickly tried all ten digits three times. None had any effect.
Artemis sighed. “Very well. Triple digits was a bit too obvious, I suppose. Are there any other three-digit numbers that are burned into fairy consciousness? Something all fairies would know, and wouldn’t be likely to forget?”
Holly racked her brain. “Nine five one. The Haven area code.”
“Try it.”
She did. No good.
“Nine five eight. The Atlantis code.”
Again no good.
“Those numbers are too regional,” snapped Artemis. “What is the one number that every male, female, and infant knows?”
Holly’s eyes widened. “Of course. Of course. Nine zero nine. The police emergency number. It’s on the corner of every billboard under the world.”
Artemis noticed something. The howling had stopped. The trolls had ceased fighting and were sniffing the air. The pheromones were in the breeze, drawing the beasts like puppets on strings. In eerie unison, their heads turned toward Holly and Artemis’s hiding place.
Artemis shook his manacles. “Try it quickly.”
Holly did. The light winked green, and the cuffs popped open.
“Good. Excellent. Now let me do yours.”
Artemis’s fingers paused over the keyboard. “I don’t read the fairy language or numerals.”
“You do. In fact, you are the only human who does,” said Holly. “You just don’t remember. The pad is standard layout. Zero to nine. Left to right.”
“Nine zero nine,” muttered Artemis, pressing the appropriate keys. Holly’s cuffs popped on the first try, which was fortunate because there would be no time for a second.