Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer [2]
Nguyen was sweating right through his khaki top. It wasn’t the humidity, he was used to that. It was this whole cursed situation. He should’ve known better than to mix magic and crime. He made a silent promise that if he got out of this, he would change his ways. No more answering shady Internet requests, and certainly no more consorting with the sons of European crime lords.
The Jeep could go only so far. Eventually the side streets grew too narrow for the four-wheel drive. Artemis turned to Nguyen. “It seems we must proceed on foot, Mister Xuan. Run if you like, but expect a sharp and fatal pain between your shoulder blades.”
Nguyen glanced into Butler’s eyes. They were a deep blue, almost black. There was no mercy in those eyes. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t run.”
They climbed down from the vehicle. A thousand suspicious eyes followed their progress along the steaming alley. An unfortunate pickpocket attempted to steal Butler’s wallet. The manservant broke the man’s fingers without looking down. They were given a wide berth after that.
The alley narrowed to a rutted lane. Sewage and drainpipes fed directly on to the muddy surface. Cripples and beggars huddled on rice-mat islands. Most of the residents of this lane had nothing to spare, with the exception of three.
“Well?” demanded Artemis. “Where is she?”
Nguyen jabbed a finger toward a black triangle beneath a rusted fire escape.
“There. Under there. She never comes out. Even to buy rice spirits she sends a runner. Now, can I go?”
Artemis didn’t bother answering. Instead he picked his way across the puddled lane to the lee of the fire escape. He could discern furtive movements in the shadows.
“Butler, could you hand me the goggles?”
Butler plucked a set of night-vision glasses from his belt and placed them in Artemis’s outstretched hand. The focus motor buzzed to suit the light.
Artemis fixed the glasses to his face. Everything became radioactive green. Taking a deep breath he turned his gaze to the squirming shadows. Something squatted on a raffia mat, shifting uneasily in the almost nonexistent light. Artemis fine-tuned the focus. The figure was small, abnormally so, and wrapped in a filthy shawl. Empty spirit jugs were half buried in the mud around her. One forearm poked from the material. It seemed green. But then, so did everything else.
“Madam,” he said. “I have a proposition for you.”
The figure’s head wobbled sleepily.
“Wine,” she rasped, her voice like nails on a school board. “Wine, English.”
Artemis smiled. The gift of tongues, check. Aversion to light, check.
“Irish, actually. Now, about my proposition?”
The healer shook a bony finger craftily. “Wine first. Then talk.”
“Butler?”
The bodyguard reached into a pocket, and drew out a half pint of the finest Irish whiskey. Artemis took the bottle and held it teasingly beyond the shadows. He barely had time to remove his goggles when the clawlike hand darted from the gloom to snatch the whiskey. A mottled green hand. There was no doubt.
Artemis swallowed a triumphant grin.
“Pay our friend, Butler. In full. Remember, Mister Xuan, this is between us. You don’t want Butler to come back, do you?”
“No, no, Master Fowl. My lips are sealed.”
“They had better be. Or Butler will seal them permanently.”
Nguyen skipped off down the alley, so relieved to be alive that he didn’t even bother counting the sheaf of U.S. currency. Most unlike him. In any event, it was all there. All twenty thousand dollars. Not bad for half an hour’s work.
Artemis turned back to the healer.
“Now, madam, you have something that I want.”
The healer’s tongue caught a drop of alcohol at the corner of her mouth.
“Yes, Irish. Sore head. Bad tooth. I heal.”
Artemis replaced the night-vision goggles and squatted to her level.
“I am perfectly healthy, madam, apart from a slight dust-mite allergy, and I don’t think even you can do anything about that. No. What I want from you is your Book.”
The hag froze. Bright eyes glinted