rtemis tried the doorknob and got a scorched palm for his trouble. Sealed. The fairy must have blasted it with her weapon. Very astute. One less variable in the equation. It was exactly what he himself would have done.

Artemis did not waste any time attempting to force open the door. It was reinforced steel, and he was twelve. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure it out, even though he was. Instead the Fowl heir apparent crossed to the monitor wall and followed developments from there.

He knew immediately what the LEP were up to—send in the troll to secure a cry for help, interpret it as an invitation, and next thing you know a brigade of goblin storm troopers were taking the manor. Clever. And unanticipated. It was the second time he’d underestimated his opponents. One way or another, there wouldn’t be a third.

As the drama below unfolded on the monitors, Artemis’s emotions jumped from terror to pride. Butler had done it. Defeated the troll, and without a single plea for aid passing his lips. Watching the display, Artemis appreciated fully, perhaps for the first time, the service provided by the Butler family.

Artemis activated the tri-band radio, broadcasting on revolving frequencies.

“Commander Root, you are monitoring all channels I presume....”

For a few moments nothing but white noise emanated from the micro speakers, then Artemis heard the sharp click of a mike button.

“I hear you, human. What can I do for you?”

“Is that the commander?”

A noise f

iltered through the black gauze. It sounded like a whinny.

“No. This is not the commander. This is Foaly, the centaur. Is that the kidnapping lowlife human?”

It took Artemis a moment to process the fact that he’d been insulted.

“Mister... ah... Foaly. You have obviously not studied your psych texts. It is not wise to antagonize the hostage-taker. I may be unstable.”

“May be unstable? There’s no may about it. Not that it matters. Soon you’ll be no more than a cloud of radioactive molecules.”

Artemis chuckled. “That’s where you are mistaken, my quadruped friend. By the time that bio-bomb is detonated, I will be long gone from this time-stop.”

It was Foaly’s turn to chuckle. “You’re bluffing, human. If there was a way to escape the field, I would have found it. I think you’re talking through your—”

Thankfully it was at that moment Root took over at the microphone.

“Fowl? This is Commander Root. What do you want?”

“I would just like to inform you, Commander, that in spite of your attempted betrayal, I am still willing to negotiate.”

“That troll had nothing to do with me,” protested Root. “It was done against my wishes.”

“The fact is that it was done, and by the LEP. Whatever trust we had is gone. So here is my ultimatum. You have thirty minutes to send in the gold, or else I will refuse to release Captain Short. Furthermore, I will not take her with me when I leave the time-field, leaving her to be disintegrated by the bio-bomb.”

“Don’t be a fool, human. You’re deluding yourself. Mud technology is aeons behind ours. There is no way to escape the time-field.”

Artemis leaned in close to the mike, smiling his wolfish smile.

“There’s only one way to find out, Root. Are you willing to bet Captain Short’s life on your hunch?”

Root’s hesitation was highlighted by the hiss of interference. His reply, when it came, was tinged with just the right note of defeat.

“No,” he sighed. “I’m not. You’ll have your gold, Fowl. A ton. Twenty-four carat.”

Artemis smirked. Quite the actor, our Commander Root.

“Thirty minutes, Commander. Count the seconds if your clock’s stopped. I’m waiting. But not for long.”

Artemis terminated the contact, settling back in the swivel chair. It would seem as though the bait had been taken. No doubt the LEP analysts had discovered his accidental invitation. The fairies would pay up because they believed the gold would be theirs again as soon as he was dead. Vaporized by the bio-bomb. Which, of course, he wouldn’t be. In theory.

Butler put three rounds into the door frame. The door itself was steel and would have sent the Devastator slugs ricocheting straight back at him. But the frame was the original porous stone used to build the manor. It crumbled like chalk. A very basic security flaw, and one that would have to be remedied once this business was over.

Master Artemis was waiting calmly in his chair by the monitor bank.

“Nice work, Butler.”

“Thank you, Artemis. We were in trouble for a moment there. If it hadn’t been for the captain...”

Artemis nodded. “Yes. I saw. Healing, one of the fairy arts. I wonder why she did it.”

“I wonder too,” said Butler softly. “We certainly didn’t deserve it.”

Artemis glanced up sharply. “Keep the faith, old friend. The end is in sight.”

Butler nodded; he even attempted a smile. But even though there were plenty of teeth in the grin, there was no heart.

“In less than an hour, Captain Short will be back with her people and we will have sufficient funds to relaunch some of our more tasteful enterprises.”

“I know. It’s just...”

Artemis didn’t have to ask. He knew exactly what Butler was feeling. The fairy had saved both their lives and yet he insisted on holding her to ransom. To a man of honor like Butler, this was almost more than he could bear.

“The negotiations are over. One way or another she will be returned to her kind. No harm will befall Captain Short. You have my word.”

“And Juliet?”

“Yes?”

“Is there any danger to my sister?”

“No. No danger.”

“The fairies are just going to give us this gold and walk away?”

Artemis snorted gently. “No, not exactly. They’re going to bio-bomb Fowl Manor the second Captain Short is clear.”

Butler took a breath to speak, but hesitated. Obviously there was more to the plan. Master Fowl would tell him when he needed to know. So instead of quizzing his employer, he made a simple statement.

“I trust you, Artemis.”

“Yes,” replied the boy, the weight of that trust etched on his brow. “I know.”

Cudgeon was doing what politicians did best: trying to duck responsibility.

“Your officer helped the humans,” he blurted, mustering as much indignation as possible. “The entire operation was proceeding exactly as planned, until your female attacked our deputy.”

“Deputy?” chortled Foaly. “Now the troll’s a deputy.”

“Yes. He is. And that human made mincemeat of him. This entire situation could be wrapped up if it wasn’t for your department’s incompetence.”

Ordinarily, Root would have blown his top at this point, but he knew that Cudgeon was grasping at straws, desperately trying to save his career. So the commander just smiled.

“Hey, Foaly?”

“Yes, Commander?”

“Did we get the troll assault on disk?”

The centaur heaved a dramatic sigh. “No, sir, we ran out of disks just before the troll went in.”

“What a pity.”

“A real shame.”

“Those disks could have been invaluable to Acting Commander Cudgeon at his hearing.”

Cudgeon’s cool went out the window. “Give me those disks, Julius! I know they’re in there! This is blatant obstruction.”

“You’re the only one guilty of obstruction around here, Cudgeon. Using this affair to further your own career.”

Cudgeon’s face took on a hue to match Root’s own. The situation was slipping away from him and he knew it. Even Chix Verbil and the other sprites were sidling out from behind their leader.

“I am still in charge here, Julius, so hand over those disks or I will have you detained.”

“Oh, really? You and whose army?”

For a second Cudgeon’s face glowed with the old pomposity. It evaporated the moment he noticed the conspicuous lack of officers at his shoulders.

“That’s right,” snickered Foaly. “You ain’t Acting Commander any more. The call came through from below. You’ve got an appointment with the Council, and I don’t think it’s to offer you a seat.”

It was probably Foaly’s grin that drove Cudgeon over the edge.

“Give me those disks!” he roared, pinning Foaly to the operation’s shuttle.

Root was tempted to let them wrestle for a while, but now wasn’t the time to indulge himself.

“Naughty naughty,” he said, pointing his index finger at Cudgeon. “No one beats Foaly but me.”

Foaly paled. “Careful with that finger. You’re still wearing the—”

Root’s thumb accidentally brushed his knuckle, opening a tiny gas valve. The released gas propelled a tranquilized dart through the latex fingertip and straight into Cudgeon’s neck. The Acting Commander, soon to be Private, sank like a stone.

Foaly rubbed his neck. “Nice shot, Commander.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Total accident. I forgot all about the fake finger. There are several precedents, I believe.”

“Oh, absolutely. Unfortunately Cudgeon will be unconscious for several hours. By the time he awakens, all the excitement will be over.”

“Shame.” Root allowed himself a fleeting grin, then it was back to business. “Is the gold here?”

“Yep, they just in

serted it.”

“Good.” He called to Cudgeon’s sheepish troops. “Get it loaded on a hovertrolley, and send it in. Any trouble and I’ll feed you your wings. Understood?”

No one actually replied, but it was understood. No doubt about it.

“Good. Now hop to it.”

Root disappeared into the operation’s shuttle, Foaly clopping behind him. The Commander shut the door firmly.

“Is it armed?”

The centaur flicked a few important-looking switches on the main console.

“It is now.”

“I want it launched as soon as possible.” He glanced through the laserproof refractor glass. “We’re down to minutes here. I see sunlight poking through.”

Foaly bent to his keyboard in earnest. “The magic is breaking up. In fifteen minutes we’re going to be in the middle of overground daytime. The neutrino streams are losing their integrity.”

“I see,” said Root, which was basically a lie again. “Okay, I don’t see. But I do get the fifteen minutes bit. That gives you ten minutes to get Captain Short out of there. After that we’re going to be sitting ducks for the entire human race.”

Foaly activated yet another camera. This one was linked to the hovertrolley. He ran a finger experimentally across a trackpad. The trolley shot forward, almost decapitating Chix Verbil.

“Nice driving,” muttered Root. “Will it get up the steps?”

Foaly didn’t even look up from his computers.

“Automatic clearance compensator. A five-foot collar. No problems.”

Root speared him with a glare. “You do that just to annoy me, don’t you?”

Foaly shrugged his shoulders. “I might.”

“Yes, well, count yourself lucky my other fingers aren’t loaded. Get my meaning?”

“Yessir.”

“Good. Now let’s bring Captain Short home.”

Holly hovered beneath the portico. Orange shards of light striped the blue. The time-stop was breaking up. There were only minutes left before Root blue-rinsed the whole place. Foaly’s voice buzzed in her earpiece.

“Okay, Captain Short. The gold is on the way. Be ready to move.”

“We don’t bargain with kidnappers,” said Holly, surprised. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” replied Foaly casually. “Straightforward exchange. The gold goes in, you come out. We send in the missile. Big blue bang, and it’s all over.”

“Does Fowl know about the bio-bomb?”

“Yep. Knows all about it. Claims he can escape the time-field.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Correct.”

“But they’ll all be killed!”

“Big deal,” retorted Foaly, and Holly could almost see him shrug. “That’s what you get when you mess with the People.”

Holly was torn. There was no doubt that Fowl was a danger to the civilized underworld. Very few tears would be shed over his body. But the girl, Juliet—she was an innocent. She deserved a chance.

Holly descended to an altitude of six and a half feet. Head height for Butler. The humans had congregated in the wreckage that used to be a hallway. There was disunity between them. The LEP officer could sense it.

Holly glared accusingly at Artemis. “Have you told them?”

Artemis returned her stare. “Told them what?”

“Yes, Fairy, told us what?” echoed Juliet belligerently, still a bit miffed over the mesmerizing.

“Don’t play dumb, Fowl. You know what I’m talking about.”

Artemis never could play dumb for very long. “Yes, Captain Short. I do. The bio-bomb. Your concern would be touching, if it extended to myself. Nevertheless, do not upset yourself. Everything is proceeding according to plan.”

“According to plan!” gasped Holly, pointing to the devastation surrounding them. “Was this part of the plan? And Butler almost getting killed—all part of the plan?”

“No,” Artemis admitted. “The troll was a slight blip. But irrelevant to the overall scheme.”

Holly resisted the urge to punch the pale human again, turning instead to Butler.

“Listen to reason, for heaven’s sake. You cannot escape the time-field. It has never been done.”

Butler’s features could have been etched in stone.

“If Artemis says it can be done, then it can.”

“But your sister. Are you willing to risk her life out of loyalty to a felon?”

“Artemis is no felon, miss, he is a genius. Now please remove yourself from my sightline. I am monitoring the main entrance.”

Holly buzzed up to twenty feet.

“You’re crazy. All of you! In five minutes you’ll all be dust. Don’t you realize?”

Artemis sighed. “You’ve had your answer, Captain. Now, please. This is a delicate stage in the proceedings.”

“Proceedings? It’s a kidnapping! At least have the guts to call it what it is.”

Artemis’s patience was beginning to fray.

“Butler, do we have any tranquilizer hypodermics left?”

The giant manservant nodded, but didn’t speak. At that precise moment, if the order came to sedate, he wasn’t sure if he would, or could. Luckily Artemis’s attention was diverted by activity in the avenue.

“Ah, it would seem the LEP have capitulated. Butler, supervise the delivery. But stay alert. Our fairy friends are not above trickery.”

“You’re a fine one to talk,” muttered Holly.

Butler hurried to the demolished doorway, checking the load and catch on his Sig Sauer nine-millimeter. He was almost grateful for some military activity to distract him from his dilemma. In situations like these, training took over. There was no room for sentiment.

A fine haze of dust still hung in the air. Butler squinted through it, into the avenue beyond. The fairy filters rigged over his eyes revealed that there were no warm bodies approaching. There was, however, a large trolley seemingly driving itself up to the front door. It was floating on a cushion of shimmering air. Doubtless Master Artemis would have understood the physics of this machine; all Butler cared about was whether or not he could disable it.

The trolley bumped into the first step.

“Automatic compensator, my foot,” snorted Root.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” replied Foaly. “I’m working on it.”

“It’s the ransom,” shouted Butler.

Artemis tried to quell the excitement rising in his chest. This was not the time to allow emotions to enter the equation.

“Check for booby traps.”

Butler stepped cautiously on to the porch. Shards of disintegrated gargoyle lay scattered beneath his feet.

“No hostiles. Seems to be self-propelled.”

The trolley lurched over the steps.

“I don’t know who’s driving this thing, but he could do with a few lessons.”

Butler bent low to the ground, scanning the trolley’s underside.

“No explosive devices visible.”

He extracted a Sweeper from his pocket, extending the telescopic aerial.

“No bugs either. Nothing detectable at any rate. But what do we have here?”

“Uh-oh,” said Foaly.

“It’s a camera.”

Butler reached in, pulling the fish-eye lens out by the cable.

“Nighty-night, gentlemen.”

In spite of the load it carried, the trolley responded easily to Butler’s touch, gliding across the threshold into the lobby. It stood there humming softly, as though waiting to be unloaded.

Now that the moment had come, Artemis was almost afraid to seize it. It was hard to believe that after all these months, his wicked scheme was minutes away from fruition. Of course these last few minutes were the vital ones, and the most dangerous.

“Open it,” he said at last, surprised at the tremble in his own voice.

It was an irresistible instant. Juliet approached tentatively, spangled eyes wide. Even Holly closed the throttle a notch, dropping until her feet brushed the marble tiling. Butler unzipped the black tarpaulin, dragging it back across the cargo.

Nobody said a thing. Artemis imagined that somewhere the 1812 Overture was playing. The gold sat there, stacked in shining rows. It seemed to have an aura, a warmth, but also an inherent danger. There were a lot of people willing to die or kill for the unimaginable wealth this gold could bring.

Holly was mesmerized. Fairies have an affinity for minerals, they are of the earth. But gold was their favorite. Its luster. Its allure.

“They paid,” she breathed. “I can’t believe it.”

“Neither can I,” murmured Artemis. “Butler, is it real?”

Butler hefted a bar from the stack. He dug the tip of a throwing knife into the ingot, gouging out a small sliver.

“It’s real all right,” he said, holding the scraping up to the light. “This one, at any rate.”

“Good. Very good. Begin unloading it, would you? We’ll send the trolley back out with Captain Short.”

Hearing her name dispelled Holly’s gold fever.

“Artemis, give it up. No human has ever succeeded in keeping fairy gold. And they’ve been trying for centuries. The LEP will do anything to protect their property.”

Artemis shook his head. Amused.

“I’ve told you...”

Holly took him by the shoulders. “You cannot escape! Don’t you understand?”

The boy returned her gaze coolly.

“I can escape, Holly. Look in my eyes and tell me that I can’t.”

So she did. Captain Holly Short gazed into her captor’s blue-black eyes, and she saw the truth in there. And for a moment she believed it.

“There’s still time,” she said desperately. “There must be something. I have magic.”

A crease of annoyance wrinkled the boy’s brow.

“I hate to disappoint you, Captain, but there is absolutely nothing.”

Artemis paused, his gaze tugged momentarily upstairs to the converted loft. Perhaps, he thought. Do I really need all this gold? And was his conscience not needling him, leaching some of the sweetness from his victory? He shook himself. Stick to the plan. Stick to t

he plan. No emotion.

Artemis felt a familiar hand on his shoulder.

“Everything all right?”

“Yes, Butler. Keep unloading. Get Juliet to help. I need to talk to Captain Short.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

Artemis sighed. “No, old friend, I’m not sure. But it’s too late now.”

Butler nodded, returning to his task. Juliet toddled along behind him like a terrier.

“Now, Captain. About your magic.”

“What about it?” Holly’s eyes were hooded with suspicion.

“What would I have to do to buy a wish?”

Holly glanced at the trolley.“Well, that depends. What do you have to bargain with?”

Root was not what you’d call relaxed. Increasingly wide bands of yellow light were poking through the blue. Minutes left. Minutes. His migraine was not helped by the pungent cigar feeding toxins into his system.

“Have all nonessential personnel been evacuated?”

“Unless they’ve sneaked back in since the last time you asked me.”

“Not now, Foaly. Believe me, now is not the time. Anything from Captain Short?”

“Nope. We lost video after the troll thing. I’d guess the battery is ruptured. We’d better get that helmet off her ASAP, or the radiation will fry her brain. That’d be a pity after all this work.”

Foaly returned to his console. A red light began pulsing gently.

“Wait, motion sensor. We’ve got activity by the main entrance.”

Root crossed to the screens. “Can you enhance it?”

“No problem.” Foaly punched in the coordinates, blowing it up four hundred percent.

Root sat down on the nearest chair.

“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”

“You sure are.” Foaly chuckled. “This is even better than the suit of armor.”

Holly was coming out. With the gold.

Retrieval was on her in half a second.

“Let’s get you out of the danger zone, Captain,” urged a sprite, catching Holly by the elbow.

Another ran a rad-sensor over her helmet.

“We’ve got a power source breach here, Captain. We need to get your head sprayed immediately.”

Holly opened her mouth to protest, and had it instantly filled with rad-suppressant foam.

“Can’t this wait?” she spluttered.

“Sorry, Captain. Time is of the essence. The commander wants a debriefing before we detonate.”

Holly was rushed toward the Mobile Ops unit, her feet barely touching the ground. All around her Retrieval Cleaners scanned the grounds for any trace of the siege. Techies dismantled the field dishes, making ready to pull the plug. Grunts steered the trolley toward the portal. It was imperative that everything be relocated to a safe distance before the bio-bomb went in.

Root was waiting on the steps.

“Holly,” he blurted. “I mean, Captain. You made it.”

“Yessir. Thank you, sir.”

“And the gold too. This is a real feather in your cap.”

“Well, not all, Commander. About half, I think.”

Root nodded. “No matter. We’ll have the rest soon enough.”

Holly wiped rad-foam from her brow.

“I’ve been thinking about that, sir. Fowl made a mistake. He never ordered me not to reenter the house, and seeing as he brought me in there in the first place, the invitation still stands. I could go in and mind-wipe the occupants. We could hide the gold in the walls and do another time-stop tomorrow night....”

“No, Captain.”

“But, sir...”

Root’s features regained whatever tension they’d lost.

“No, Captain. The Council is not about to hold off for some kidnapping Mud Man. It’s just not going to happen. I have my orders, and believe me they’re written in stone.”

Holly trailed Root into the mobile.

“But the girl, sir. She’s an innocent!”

“Casualty of war. She threw her lot in with the wrong side. Nothing can be done for her now.”

Holly was incredulous. “A casualty of war? How can you say that? A life is a life.”

Root spun sharply, grasping her by the shoulders.

“You did what you could, Holly,” he said. “No one could have done more. You even retrieved most of the ransom. You’re suffering from what humans call Stockholm Syndrome: you have bonded with your captors. Don’t worry, it will pass. But those people in there, they know. About us. Nothing can save them now.”

Foaly looked up from his calculations.

“Not true. Technically. Welcome back, by the way.”

Holly couldn’t spare even a second to return the greeting.

“What do you mean not true?”

“I’m fine, seeing as you asked.”

“Foaly!” shouted Root and Holly in unison.

“Well, like the Book says: ‘If the Mud Man gold can gather, In spite of magick or fairy glamor, Then that gold is his to keep, Until he lies in eternal sleep.’ So if he lives, he wins. It’s that simple. Not even the Council will go against the Book.”

Root scratched his chin. “Should I be worried?”

Foaly laughed mirthlessly. “No. Those guys are as good as dead.”

“As good as isn’t good enough.”

“Is that an order?”

“Affirmative, soldier.”

“I’m not a soldier,” said Foaly, and pressed the button.

Butler was more than a little surprised.

“You gave it back?”

Artemis nodded. “About half. We still have quite a nest egg. About fifteen million dollars at today’s market prices.”

Butler usually wouldn’t ask. But this time he had to. “Why, Artemis? Can you tell me?”

“I suppose so.” The boy smiled. “I felt we owed the captain something. For services rendered.”

“Is that all?”

Artemis nodded. No need to talk about the wish. It could be perceived as weakness.

“Hmm,” said Butler, smarter than he looked.

“Now, we should celebrate,” enthused Artemis, deftly changing the subject. “Some champagne, I think.”

The boy strode to the kitchen before Butler’s gaze could dissect him.

By the time the others caught up, Artemis had already filled three glasses with Dom Perignon.

“I’m a minor, I know, but I’m sure Mother wouldn’t mind. Just this once.”

Butler felt that something was afoot. Nevertheless, he took the crystal flute offered to him.

Juliet looked at her big brother.

“Is this okay?”

“I suppose so.” He took a breath. “You know I love you, don’t you, sis?”

Juliet scowled—something else that the local louts found very endearing. She smacked her brother on the shoulder.

“You’re so emotional for a bodyguard.”

Butler looked his employer straight in the eye.

“You want us to drink this, don’t you, Artemis?”

Artemis met his gaze squarely. “Yes, Butler. I do.”

Without another word Butler drained his glass, Juliet followed suit. The manservant tasted the tranquilizer immediately, and although he would have had ample time to snap Artemis Fowl’s neck, he didn’t. No need for Juliet to be distressed in her final moments.

Artemis watched his friends sink to the floor. A pity to deceive them. But if they had been alerted to the plan, their anxiety could have counteracted the sedative. He gazed at the bubbles swirling in his own glass. Time for the most audacious step in his scheme. With only the barest hint of hesitation, he swallowed the tranquilizer-laced champagne.

Artemis waited calmly for the drug to take hold of his system. He didn’t have to wait long, since each dose had been calculated according to body weight. As his thoughts began to swirl, it occurred to him that he might never awaken again. It’s a bit late for doubts, he chided himself, an

d sank into unconsciousness.

* * *

“She’s away,” said Foaly, leaning back from the console. “It’s out of my hands now.”

They followed the missile’s progress through polarized windows. It really was a remarkable piece of equipment. Because its main weapon was light, the fallout could be focused to an exact radius. The radioactive element used in the core was solinium 2, which had a half-life of fourteen seconds. This effectively meant that Foaly could tune the bio-bomb to blue-rinse only Fowl Manor and not one blade of grass more, plus the building would be radiation-free in under a minute. In the event that a few solinium flares refused to be focused, they would be contained by the time-field. Murder made easy.

“The flight path is preprogrammed,” explained Foaly, though no one was paying a blind bit of attention. “She’ll sail into the lobby and detonate. The casing and firing mechanism are plastic alloy and will completely disintegrate. Clean as a whistle.”

Root and Holly followed the bomb’s arc. As predicted, it swooped through the decimated doorway without knocking so much as a sliver of stone from the medieval walls. Holly switched her attention to the missile’s nose-cam. For a moment she caught a glimpse of the grand hallway where she had, until recently, been a prisoner. It was empty. Not a human in sight. Maybe, she thought. Just maybe. Then she looked at Foaly and the technology at his fingertips. And she realized that the humans were as good as dead.

The bio-bomb detonated. A blue orb of condensed light crackled and spread, filling every corner of the manor with its deadly rays. Flowers withered, insects shriveled, and fish died in their tanks. Not one cubic millimeter was spared. Artemis Fowl and his cohorts could not have escaped. It was impossible.

Holly sighed, turning away from the already dwindling blue-rinse. For all his grand designs, Artemis had been a mere mortal in the end. And for some reason she mourned his passing.

Root was more pragmatic. “Okay. Suit up. Full blackout gear.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” said Foaly. “Didn’t you ever listen in school?”

The commander snorted. “I trust science about as far as I could throw you, Foaly. Radiation has a habit of hanging around when certain scientists have assured us it has dissipated. No one steps outside the unit without blackout gear. So that counts you out, Foaly. Only bipedal suits. Anyway I want you on monitors, just in case....”

In case of what? wondered Foaly, but he didn’t comment. Save it for an I told you so later.

Root turned to Holly.

“Are you ready, Captain?”

Going back in. The idea of identifying three cadavers didn’t appeal to Holly. But she knew it was her duty. She was the only one with firsthand knowledge of the interior.

“Yessir. On my way.”

Holly selected a blackout suit from the rack, pulling it on over her jumpsuit. As per training, she checked the gauge before tugging the vulcanized cowl. A dip in pressure would indicate a rip, which could prove fatal in the long term.

Root lined up the insertion team at the perimeter. The remains of Retrieval One were about as eager to insert themselves into the manor as they would be to juggle Atlantean stink balloons.

“You’re certain the big one is gone?”

“Yes, Captain Kelp. He’s gone, one way or another.”

Trouble wasn’t convinced. “Because that’s one mean human. I think he has magic of his own.”

Corporal Grub giggled, and got an immediate clip on the ear for himself. He muttered something about telling Mommy and quickly strapped on his helmet.

Root felt his complexion redden. “Let’s move out. Your mission is to locate and recover the bullion. Watch for booby traps. I didn’t trust Fowl when he was alive, and I definitely don’t trust him now that he’s dead.”

The words “booby traps” got everyone’s attention. The idea of a Bouncing Betty anti-personnel mine exploding at head height was enough to dispel any nonchalance in the troops. No one built weapons of cruelty like the Mud Men.

As the junior Recon officer, Holly was on point. And even though there weren’t supposed to be any hostiles in the manor, she found her gun hand automatically straying to the Neutrino 2000.

The mansion was eerily quiet, with only the fizzle of the last few solinium flares to alleviate the stillness. Death was there too, in the silence. The manor was a cradle of death. Holly could smell it. Behind those medieval walls lay the bodies of a million insects, and under its floors the cooling corpses of spiders and mice.

They approached the doorway tentatively. Holly swept the area with an X-ray scanner. Nothing under the flagstones but dirt, and a nest of dead money-spiders.

“Clear,” she said into her microphone. “I’m going in. Foaly, have you got your ears on?”

“I’m right there with you, darlin’,” replied the centaur. “Unless you step on a land mine, in which case I’m way back in the Operations Room.”

“Are you getting any thermals?”

“Not after a blue-rinse. We have residual heat signatures all over the place. Mostly solinium flares. It won’t calm down for a couple of days.”

“But no radiation, right?”

“That’s right.”

Root snorted in disbelief. Over the headsets it sounded like an elephant sneezing.

“It looks like we’re going to have to sweep this house the old-fashioned way,” he grumbled.

“Make it quick,” advised Foaly. “I give it five minutes tops before Fowl Manor rejoins the world at large.”

Holly stepped through what used to be the doorway. The chandelier swung gently from the concussive force of the missile’s detonation, but otherwise everything was as she remembered it.

“The gold is downstairs. In my cell.”

Nobody answered. Not in words. Someone did manage a retch. Right into the microphone. Holly spun around. Trouble was doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“I don’ feel so good,” he groaned. A tad unnecessarily, considering the pool of vomit all over his boots.

Corporal Grub took a breath, possibly to utter a sentence containing the word Mommy. What came out was a jet of concentrated bile. Unfortunately Grub didn’t have the opportunity to open his visor before the illness struck. It was not a pretty sight.

“Ugh,” said Holly, pressing the corporal’s visor-release button. A tsunami of regurgitated rations flooded over Grub’s blackout suit.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” muttered Root, elbowing past the brothers. He didn’t get very far. One step over the threshold and he was throwing up with the rest of them.

Holly pointed her helmet-cam at the stricken officers.

“What the hell is going on here, Foaly?”

“I’m searching. Hold on.”

Holly could hear computer keys being punched furiously.

“Okay. Sudden vomiting. Spatial nausea... Oh no.”

“What?” asked Holly. But she already knew. Maybe she always had.

“It’s the magic,” blurted Foaly, words barely decipherable in his excitement. “They can’t enter the house until Fowl is dead. It’s like an extreme allergic reaction. That means, unbelievable, that means...”

“They made it,” completed Holly. “He’s alive. Artemis Fowl is alive.”

“D’Arvit,” groaned Root, and heaved another quart of vomit onto the terra-cotta tiles.

Holly went on alone. She had to see for herself. If Fowl’s corpse was here, it would be with the gold, of that she was certain.

The same family portraits glared down at her, but now they seemed smug rather than austere. Holly was tempted to loose a few blasts into them from the Neutrino 2000. But that would be against the rules. If Artemis Fowl had beaten them, then that was it. There would be no recriminations.

She descended the stairway to her cell. The door was still swinging slightly from the bio-bomb concussion. A solinium flare ricocheted around the room like a trapped bolt of blue lightning. Holly stepped inside, half-afraid of what she might or might not see.

There was nothing. Nothing dead at any rate. Just gold. Two hundred ingots approximately. Piled on the mattress of her cot. Nice neat military rows. Good old Butler, the only human ever to take on a troll and win.

“Commander? Are you receiving? Over.”

“Affirmative, Captain. Body count?”

“Negative on the bodies, sir. I found the rest of the ransom.”

There was along silence.

“Leave it, Holly. You know the rules. We’re pulling out.”

“But, sir. There must be a way....”

Foaly broke in on the conversation. “But nothing, Captain. I’m counting down the seconds until daylight here, and I don’t like our odds if we have to exit at high noon.”

Holly sighed. It made sense. The People could chose their exit time, as long as they left before the field disintegrated. It just galled her to think they’d been beaten by a human. An adolescent human at that.

She took a last look around the cell. A big ball of hatred had been born here, she realized, and it would have to be dealt with sooner or later. Holly jammed her pistol back into its holster. Preferably sooner. Fowl was the winner this time, but someone like him wouldn’t be able to rest on his laurels. He would be back with some other moneymaking scheme. And when he arrived, he would find Holly Short waiting for him. Waiting with a big gun and a smile.

The ground was soft by the time-stop perimeter. Half a millennium’s bad drainage from the medieval walls had transformed the foundations into a virtual bog. So that was where Mulch surfaced.

The soft ground wasn’t the only reason for choosing that exact spot. The other reason was the smell. A good tunnel dwarf can pick up the scent of gold through half a mile of granite bedrock. Mulch Diggums had one of the best noses in the business.

The hovertrolley floated virtually unguarded. Two of Retrieval’s finest were stationed beside the recovered ransom, but at the moment they were having a little giggle at their stricken commander.

“’E can’t half chuck it, can’t’e, Chix?”

Chix nodded, mimicking Root’s spewing technique.

Chix Verbil’s pantomime antics provided the perfect cover for a spot of pilfering. Mulch gave his tubes a clearing before clambering from the tunnel. The last thing he needed was for a sudden burst of gas to alert the LEP to his presence. He needn’t have worri

ed. He could have slapped Chix Verbil in the face with a wet stink worm, and the sprite wouldn’t have noticed.

In a matter of seconds, he had transferred two dozen ingots into the tunnel. It was the easiest job he had ever pulled. Mulch had to stifle a giggle as he dropped the last two bars down the hole. Julius had really done him a favor, getting him involved in this whole affair. Things couldn’t have worked out much better. He was free as a bird, rich, and best of all presumed dead. By the time the LEP realized that the gold was missing, Mulch Diggums would be half a continent away. If they realized at all.

The dwarf lowered himself into the ground. It would take several trips to move his treasure trove, but it would be worth the delay. With this kind of money, he could take early retirement. He would have to completely disappear of course, but a plan was already forming in his devious mind.

He would live above ground for a spell. Masquerade as a human dwarf, with an aversion to light. Perhaps buy a penthouse with thick blinds. In Manhattan perhaps, or Monte Carlo. It might seem odd, of course, a dwarf shutting himself away from the sun. But then again, he would be an obscenely rich dwarf. And humans will accept any story, however outlandish, when there’s something in it for them. Preferably something green that folds.

Artemis could hear a voice calling his name. There was a face behind the voice, but it was blurred, hard to make out. His father, perhaps?

“Father?” The word was strange in his mouth. Unused. Rusty. Artemis opened his eyes.

Butler was leaning over him. “Artemis. You’re awake.”

“Ah, Butler. It’s you.”

Artemis got to his feet, head spinning with the effort. He expected Butler’s hand at his elbow to steady him. It didn’t come. Juliet was lying on a chaise longue, dribbling onto the cushions. Obviously the draft hadn’t worn off yet.

“It was just sleeping pills, Butler. Harmless.”

The manservant’s eyes had a dangerous glint. “Explain yourself.”

Artemis rubbed his eyes. “Later, Butler. I’m feeling a bit—”

Butler stepped into his path. “Artemis, my sister is lying drugged on that couch. She was almost killed. So explain yourself now!”

Artemis realized that he’d been given an order. He considered being offended, then decided that perhaps Butler was right. He had gone too far.

“I didn’t tell you about the sleeping pills because you’d fight them. It’s only natural. And it was imperative to the plan that we all go to sleep immediately.”

“The plan?”

Artemis lowered himself into a comfortable chair.

“The time-field was the key to this whole affair. It’s the LEP’s ace in the hole. It’s what has made them unbeatable for all these years. Any incident can be contained. That and the bio-bomb make a formidable combination.”

“So why did we have to be drugged?”

Artemis smiled. “Look out the window. Don’t you see? They’re gone. It’s over.”

Butler glanced through the net curtains. The light was bright and clear. Not a hint of blue. Nevertheless, the manservant was unimpressed. “They’re gone for now. They’ll be back tonight, I guarantee it.”

“No. That’s against the rules. We beat them. That’s it, game over.”

Butler raised an eyebrow.“The sleeping pills, Artemis?”

“Not to be distracted, I see.”

Butler’s answer was an implacable silence.

“The sleeping pills. Very well. I had to think of a way to escape the time-field. I trawled through the Book, but there was nothing. Not a clue. The People themselves have not yet developed a way. So I went back to their Old Testament, back when their lives and ours were intertwined. You know the stories—elves that made shoes during the night, sprites that cleaned houses. Back when we coexisted to a certain extent. Magical favors in exchange for their fairy forts. The big one, of course, was Santa Claus.”

Butler’s eyebrows nearly jumped off the front of his face.

“Santa Claus?”

Artemis raised his palms. “I know, I know. I was a tad skeptical myself. But apparently our little corporate-image Santa Claus is not descended from a Turkish saint, he is a shadow of San D’Klass, the third king of the Frond Elfin dynasty. He is known as San the Deluded.”

“Not a great title, as titles go.”

“Admittedly. D’Klass thought that the greed of the Mud People in his kingdom could be assuaged by distributing lavish gifts. He would marshal all the great wizards once a year and have them throw up a great time-stop over vast regions. Flocks of sprites would be sent out to deliver the presents while the humans were asleep. Of course, it didn’t work. Human greed can never be assuaged, especially not by gifts.”

Butler frowned. “What if the humans... we, that is... What if we had woken up?”

“Ah yes. Excellent question. The heart of the matter. We wouldn’t wake up. That is the nature of the time-stop. Whatever your state of consciousness going in, that’s how you stay. You can neither wake up nor fall asleep. You must have noticed the fatigue in your bones these last few hours, yet your mind would not let you sleep.”

Butler nodded. Things were getting clearer, in a roundabout sort of way.

“So my theory was that the only way to escape the time-field was to simply fall asleep. Our own consciousness was all that kept us imprisoned.”

“You risked an awful lot on a theory, Artemis.”

“Not just a theory. We did have a test subject.”

“Who? Ah, Angeline.”

“Yes. My mother. Because of her narcotic-induced slumber, she moved with the natural order of time, unhindered by the time-field. If she had not, I would have simply surrendered to the LEP and submitted to their mind wipe.”

Butler snorted. He doubted it.

“So, because we could not fall asleep naturally, I simply administered us all a dose of Mother’s pills. Simple.”

“You cut it pretty fine, though. Another minute... ”

“Agreed.” The boy nodded. “Things were tense there at the end. It was necessary in order to double-bluff the LEP.”

He paused so that Butler could process the information.

“Well, am I forgiven?”

Butler sighed. On the chaise lounge, Juliet snored like a drunken sailor. He smiled suddenly.

“Yes, Artemis. All is forgiven. Just one thing...”

“Yes?”

“Never again. Fairies are too... human.”

“You’re right,” said Artemis, the crow’s feet deepening around his eyes. “Never again. We shall restrict ourselves to more tasteful ventures in the future. Legal, I can’t promise.”

Butler nodded. It was close enough.

“Now, young Master, shouldn’t we check on your mother?”

Artemis grew paler, if that were possible. Could the captain have reneged on her promise? She would certainly be entitled to.

“Yes. I suppose we should. Let Juliet rest. She’s earned it.”

He cast his eyes upward, along the stairs. It had been too much to hope for that he could trust the fairy. After all, he had held her captive against her will. He berated himself silently. Imagine parting with all those millions for the promise of a wish. Oh, the gullibility.

Then the loft door opened.

Butler drew his weapon instantly.

“Artemis, behind me. Intruders.”

The boy waved him away. “No, Butler. I don’t think so.”

His heart pounded in his ears, blood pulsed in his fingertips. Could it be? Could it possibly be? A figure appeared on the stairs. Wraithlike in a toweled robe, her hair wet from the shower.

“Arty?” she called. “Arty, are you there?”

Artemis wanted to answer, he wanted to race up the grand stairway, arms outstretched. But he couldn’t. His cerebral functions had deserted him.

Angeline Fowl descended, one hand resting lightly on the banister. Artemis had forgotten how graceful his mother was. Her bare feet

skipped over the carpeted steps and soon she was standing before him.

“Morning, darling,” she said brightly, as though it were just another day.

“M-Mother,” stammered Artemis.

“Well, give me a hug.”

Artemis stepped into his mother’s embrace. It was warm and strong. She was wearing perfume. He felt like the boy he was.

“I’m sorry, Arty,” she whispered into his ear.

“Sorry for what?”

“For everything. For the last few months, I haven’t been myself. But things are going to change. Time to stop living in the past.”

Artemis felt a tear on his cheek. He wasn’t sure whose tear it was.

“And I don’t have a present for you.”

“A present?” said Artemis.

“Of course,” sang his mother, spinning him around. “Don’t you know what day it is?”

“Day?”

“It’s Christmas Day, you silly boy. Christmas Day! Presents are traditional, are they not?”

Yes, thought Artemis. Traditional. San D’Klass.

“And look at this place. Drab as a mausoleum. Butler?”

The manservant hurriedly pocketed his Sig Sauer.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Get on the phone to Brown Thomas. The platinum set number. Reopen my account. Tell Hélène I want a Yuletide makeover. The works.”

“Yes, ma’am. The works.”

“Oh, and wake up Juliet. I want my things moved into the main bedroom. That attic is far too dusty.”

“Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am.”

Angeline Fowl linked her son’s arm.

“Now, Arty, I want to know everything. First of all, what happened here?”

“Remodeling,” said Artemis. “The old doorway was riddled with damp.”

Angeline frowned, completely unconvinced. “I see. And how about school? Have you decided on a career?”

While his mouth answered these everyday questions, Artemis’s mind was in turmoil. He was a boy again. His life was going to change utterly. His plans would have to be much more devious than usual if they were to escape his mother’s attention. But it would be worth it.

Angeline Fowl was wrong. She had brought him a Christmas present.