Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer [61]
“Thanks, Julius.”
The grin disappeared faster than a deep-fried pit slug in the LEP canteen.
“I’ve warned you about the Julius thing, Foaly. Now get that outside line open again. I want that gold ready when Cudgeon’s plan goes awry. Lobby all my supporters on the Council. I’m pretty sure Lope’s one of mine, and Cahartez, possibly Vinyáya. She’s always had a thing for me, devilishly attractive as I am.”
“You’re joking, of course.”
“I never joke,” said Root, and he said it with a straight face.
Holly had a plan, of sorts. Sneak around shielded, reclaim some fairy weaponry, then cause havoc until Fowl was forced to release her. And if several million Irish pounds’ worth of property damage happened to ensue, well, that was just a bonus.
Holly hadn’t felt so good in years. Her eyes blazed with power, and there were sparks sizzling below every centimeter of skin. She had forgotten just how good running hot felt.
Captain Short felt in control now, on the hunt. This was what she was trained to do. When this affair had started, the advantage had been with the Mud People. But now the boot was on the other foot. She was the hunter and they were the prey.
Holly scaled the great staircase, ever vigilant for the giant manservant. That was one individual she wasn’t taking any chances with. If those fingers closed around her skull, she was history, helmet or not, assuming she managed to find a helmet.
The vast house was like a mausoleum—without a single sign of life inside its vaulted rooms. Spooky portraits though. Each one with Fowl eyes, suspicious and glittering. Holly determined to torch the lot of them when she recovered her Neutrino 2000. Vindictive perhaps, but totally justified considering what Artemis Fowl had put her through.
She scaled the steps swiftly, following the curve around to the upper landing. A slot of pale light peeped from under the last door on the corridor. Holly placed her palm against the wood, feeling for vibration. Activity all right. Shouting and footsteps. Thundering this way.
Holly jumped back, flattening herself against the velveteen wallpaper. Not a moment too soon. A hulking shape burst through the doorway and hurtled down the corridor, leaving a maelstrom of air currents in his wake.
“Juliet!” he shouted, his sister’s name hanging in the air long after he had disappeared down the stairs.
Don’t worry, Butler, thought Holly. She’s having the time of her life glued to Wrestlemania. But the open door presented a welcome opportunity. She slipped through before the mechanical arm could close it again.
Artemis Fowl was waiting, anti-shield filters cobbled on to his sunglasses.
“Good evening, Captain Short,” he began, confidence apparently intact. “At the risk of sounding clichéd, I’ve been expecting you.”
Holly didn’t respond, didn’t even look her jailer in the eye. Instead she utilized her training to scan the room, her gaze resting briefly on each surface.
“You are, of course, still bound by the promises made earlier tonight. . . .”
But Holly wasn’t listening, she was sprinting toward a stainless-steel workbench bolted to the far wall.
“So, basically, our situation hasn’t changed. You are still my hostage.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” muttered Holly, running her fingers over the rows of confiscated Retrieval equipment. She selected a stealth-coated helmet, slipping it over her pointed ears. The pneumatic pads pumped to cradle her crown. She was safe now. Any further commands given by Fowl meant nothing through the reflective visor. A wire mike slotted down automatically. Contact was immediate.
“. . . on revolving frequencies. Broadcasting on revolving frequencies. Holly, if you can hear me, take cover.”
Holly recognized Foaly’s voice. Something familiar in a crazy situation.
“Repeat. Take cover. Cudgeon is sending in a . . . ”
“Something I should know?” said Artemis.
“Quiet,” hissed Holly, worried by the tone of Foaly’s usually flippant voice.
“I say again, they are sending in a troll to secure your release.”
Holly started. Cudgeon