Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer [58]
Sorry, friend, thought the dwarf. If there was any other way . . . Pulling the rabbit’s body through the hole, Mulch rehinged his jaw and began screaming. “Cave-in! Cave-in! Help! Help!”
Now for the tricky bit. With one hand he agitated the surrounding earth, bringing showers of it crumbling around his own head. With the other hand he popped the iris-cam out of his left eye and slid it into the rabbit’s. Given the almost total darkness and the landfall confusion, it should be almost impossible to spot the switch.
“Julius! Please. Help me.”
“Mulch! What’s happening? What’s your status?”
What’s my status? thought the dwarf incredulously. Even in times of supposed crisis, the commander couldn’t abandon his precious protocol.
“I . . . Argh . . .” The dwarf dragged his final scream out, petering off to a gargling rattle.
A bit melodramatic perhaps, but Mulch never could resist theatrics. With a last regretful glance at the dying animal, he unhinged his jaw and finned off to the southeast. Freedom beckoned.
CHAPTER 8
TROLL
Root leaned forward, roaring into the microphone.
“Mulch! What’s happening? What’s your status?”
Foaly was tapping a keyboard furiously.
“We’ve lost audio. Motion, too.”
“Mulch. Talk to me, dammit.”
“I’m running a scan on his vitals . . . Whoa!”
“What? What is it?”
“His heart has gone crazy. Beating like a rabbit . . .”
“A rabbit?”
“No, wait, it’s . . .”
“What?” breathed the commander, terribly afraid that he already knew.
Foaly leaned back in his chair. “It’s stopped. His heartbeat has stopped.”
“Are you sure?”
“The monitors don’t lie. All vitals can be read through the iris-cam. Not a peep. He’s gone.”
Root couldn’t believe it. Mulch Diggums, one of life’s constants. Gone? It couldn’t be true.
“He did it too, you know, Foaly. Recovered a copy of the Book no less, and he confirmed Short was alive.”
Foaly’s wide brow creased for an instant.“It’s just that ...”
“What?” said Root, suspicion aroused.
“Well, for a moment there, just before the end, his heart rate seemed abnormally fast.”
“Maybe it was a malfunction.”
The centaur was unconvinced. “I doubt it. My bugs don’t have bugs.”
“What other explanation could there be? You still have visuals, don’t you?”
“Yep. Through dead eyes, no doubt about it. Not a spark of electricity in that brain; the camera is running on its own battery.”
“Well, that’s it then. No other explanation.”
Foaly nodded. “It would seem that way. Unless . . . No, it’s too fantastic.”
“This is Mulch Diggums we’re talking about here. Nothing is too fantastic.”
Foaly opened his mouth to voice his incredible theory, but before he could speak the shuttle’s bay door slid open.
“We have him!” said a triumphant voice.
“Yes!” agreed a second. “Fowl has made a mistake!”
Root swiveled on his chair. It was Argon and Cumulus, the so-called behavioral analysts.
“Oh, we’ve finally decided to earn our retainers, have we?”
But, united by excitement, the professors were not so easily intimidated. Cumulus even had the temerity to wave Root’s sarcasm aside. This more than anything else made the commander sit up and take notice.
Argon brushed past Foaly, pressing a laser disk into the console’s player. Artemis Fowl’s face appeared, as seen through Root’s iris-cam.
“We’ll be in touch,” said the commander’s recorded voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.”
Fowl’s face disappeared momentarily as he rose from his chair. Root lifted his gaze in time for the next chilling statement.
“You do that. But remember this, none of your race has permission to enter here while I’m alive.”
Argon pressed the pause button triumphantly. “There, you see!”
Root’s complexion lost any final traces of pallor.
“There? There what? What do I see?”
Cumulus tutted, as one would at a slow child. A mistake, in retrospect. The commander had him by the pointy beard in under