Artemis Fowl - Colfer Eoin. Страница 23

In the old days, five elfin warlocks would form a pentagram around the target and spread a magic shield over it, temporarily stopping time inside the enchanted enclosure.

This was fine as far as it went, provided the warlocks didn't have to use the bathroom. Many a siege was lost because an elf had one glass of wine too many. Warlocks tire quickly too, and their arms get sore. On a good day, you had maybe an hour and a half, which was hardly worth the trouble in the first place.

It was Foaly's idea to mechanize the whole procedure. He had the warlocks do their thing into lithium batteries, and then he set up a network of receiver dishes around the designated area. Sounds simple? Well, it wasn't. But there were definite advantages. For one thing there were no more power surges. Batteries didn't try to show off to each other. You could calculate exactly how many power cells were needed, and sieges could be extended for up to eight hours.

As it happened, the Fowl estate was the perfect location for a time-stop — isolated with a definite boundary. It even had elevated towers for the dishes, for heaven's sake. It was almost as if Artemis Fowl wanted time stopped…Foaly's finger hesitated over the button.

Could it be possible? After all, the human youth had been one step ahead throughout this whole affair.

'Commander?'

'Are we on-line yet?'

'Not exactly. There's something — '

Root's reaction nearly blew out the woofers in Foaly's earpiece.

'No, Foaly! There isn't something! None of your bright ideas, thank you very much. Captain Short's life is in danger, so push the button before I climb that tower and push it with your face!'

'Touchy,' muttered Foaly, and pushed the button.

Lieutenant Gudgeon checked his moonometer.

'You have eight hours.'

'I know how much time I have,' growled Root. 'And stop following me. Don't you have work to do?'

'Actually, now that you mention it, I have a bio-bomb to arm.'

Root rounded on him. 'Don't annoy me, Lieutenant. Having you pass comments at every turn is not improving my concentration. Just do whatever it is you feel you have to do. But be prepared to back it up at tribunal. If this one goes wrong, heads are going to roll.'

'Indeed,' muttered Gudgeon under his breath. 'But mine is not going to be one of them.'

Root checked the sky. A shimmering azure field had descended over the Fowl estate. Good. They were in limbo. Outside the walls, life continued at an exaggerated pace, but if anyone were to somehow gain access to the manor in spite of the fortified walls and high gate, they would find it deserted, all occupants trapped in the past.

So for the next eight hours, it would be twilight on the Fowl estate. After that, Root could not guarantee Holly's safety. Given the gravity of the situation, it was more than likely that Gudgeon would get the go-ahead to bio-bomb the whole place. Root had seen a blue rinse before. No living thing escaped, not even the rats.

Root caught up with Foaly at the base of the north tower. The centaur had parked a shuttle by the metre-thick wall. Already the work area was a mess of tangled wires and pulsating fibre optics.

'Foaly? Are you in here?'

The centaur's foil-capped head emerged from the belly of a disembowelled hard drive.

'Over here, Commander. You've come to push a button with my face, I presume.'

Root almost laughed.

'Don't tell me you're looking for an apology, Foaly. I've already used my quota for today. And that was to a lifelong friend.'

'Gudgeon? Forgive me, Commander, but I wouldn't waste my apologies on the lieutenant. He won't be wasting any on you when he stabs you in the back.'

'You're wrong about him. Gudgeon is a good officer. A bit eager, certainly, but he'll do the right thing when the time comes.'

'The right thing for himself maybe. I don't think Holly is at the top of his priority list.'

Root didn't answer. He couldn't.

'And another thing. I have a sneaking suspicion that young Artemis Fowl wanted us to stop time. After all, everything else we've tried has played straight into his hands.'

Root rubbed his temples. 'That's impossible. How could a human know about time-stoppage? Anyway, this is no time for theorizing,

Foaly. I have less than eight hours to clean up this mess. So what have you got for me?'

Foaly clopped over to an equipment rack clamped to the wall.

'No heavy armament, that's for sure. Not after what happened to Retrieval One. No helmet either. That beast of a Mud Man seems to collect them. No, to show good faith, we're going to send you in unarmed and unarmoured.'

Root snorted. 'What manual did you get this from?'

'It's standard operating procedure. Fostering trust speeds communication.'

'Oh, stop quoting and give me something to shoot.'

'Suit yourself,' sighed Foaly, selecting what looked like a finger from the rack.

'What's that?'

'It's a finger. What does it look like?'

'A finger,' admitted Root.

'Yes, but not any ordinary finger.' He glanced around to make sure that no one else was watching. 'The tip contains a pressurized dart. One shot only. You tap the knuckle with your thumb and someone goes sleepy-bye.'

'Why haven't I seen this before?'

'It's a covert kinda thing…'

'And?' said Root suspiciously.

'Well, there have been accidents…'

'Tell me, Foaly.'

'Our agents keep forgetting they have it on.'

'Meaning they shoot themselves.'

Foaly nodded miserably. 'One of our best sprites was picking his nose at the time. Three days on the critical list.'

Root rolled the memory latex on to his index finger, where it immediately assumed the shape and flesh tone of the host digit.

'Don't worry, Foaly, I'm not a complete idiot. Anything else?'

Foaly unhooked what appeared to be a false bottom from the equipment rack.

'You're not serious! What does that do?'

'Nothing,' admitted the centaur. 'But it gets a great laugh at parties.'

Root chuckled. Twice. That was a major lapse for him.

'OK, levity over. Are you going to wire me?'

'Naturally. One iris-cam. What colour?' He peered into the commander's eyes. 'Hmm. Mud brown.' He selected a small vial from the shelf and removed the electronic contact lens from a fluid capsule. Plucking Root's eyelid with thumb and forefinger, he slotted in the iris-cam. 'That might irritate you. Try not to rub or it could end up in the back of your eye. Then we'd be looking into your head, and there's nothing interesting in there, heaven knows.'

Root blinked, resisting the urge to knead his watering eye.

'That's it?'

Foaly nodded. 'That's all we dare risk.'

The commander agreed reluctantly. His hip felt very light without a tri-barrelled blaster dangling from it.

'OK. I suppose this amazing dart finger will have to do. Honestly, Foaly, if this blows up in my face, you'll be on the next shuttle back to Haven.'

The centaur snickered. 'Just be careful in the toilet.'

Root didn't laugh. There were some things you didn't joke about.

Artemis's watch had stopped. It was as though Greenwich wasn't there any more. Or perhaps, mused Artemis, we're the ones who have disappeared. He checked CNN. It had frozen. A picture of Riz Khan 145jittered slightly on the screen. Artemis could not hold back a satisfied smile. They had done it, just like the Book said. The LEP had stopped time. All according to plan.

Time to check out a theory. Artemis wheeled over to the monitor bank and punched up the Mam Cam on the seventy-centimetre main monitor. Angeline Fowl was no longer on the chaise longue. Artemis panned around the room. It was empty. His mother had gone.

Disappeared. His smile widened. Perfect. Just as he'd suspected.

Artemis switched his attention to Holly Short. She was banging the bed again. Occasionally she would rise from the mattress, pounding the wall with her bare fists. Maybe it was more than frustration. Could there be method in her madness? He tapped the monitor with a slim finger.