Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer [9]
The fairy suited up, zipping the dull-green jumpsuit up to her chin and strapping on her helmet. LEPrecon uniforms were stylish these days. Not like that top-o’-the-morning costume the force had to wear back in the old days. Buckled shoes and knickerbockers! Honestly. No wonder leprechauns were such ridiculous figures in human folklore. Still, probably better that way. If the Mud People knew that the word “leprechaun” actually originated from LEPrecon, an elite branch of the Lower Elements Police, they’d probably take steps to stamp them out. Better to stay inconspicuous and let the humans have their stereotypes.
With the moon already rising on the surface, there was no time for a proper breakfast. Holly grabbed the remains of a nettle smoothie from the cooler and drank it in the tunnels. As usual there was chaos in the main thoroughfare. Airborne sprites jammed the avenue like stones in a bottle. The gnomes weren’t helping either, lumbering along with their big swinging behinds blocking two lanes. Swear toads infested every damp patch, cursing like sailors. That particular breed began as a joke, but had multiplied into an epidemic. Someone lost their wand over that one.
Holly battled through the crowds to the police station. There was already a riot outside Spud’s Spud Emporium. LEP Corporal Newt was trying to sort it out. Good luck to him. Nightmare. At least Holly got the chance to work above ground.
The LEP station doors were crammed with protesters. The goblin-dwarf turf war had flared up again, and every morning hordes of angry parents showed up demanding the release of their innocent offspring. Holly snorted. If there actually was an innocent goblin, Holly Short had yet to meet him. They were clogging up the cells now, howling gang chants and hurling fireballs at each other.
Holly shouldered her way into the throng. “Coming through,” she grunted. “Police business.”
They were on her like flies on a stink worm.
“My Grumpo is innocent!”
“Police brutality!”
“Officer, could you take my baby in his blankie? He can’t sleep without it.”
Holly set her visor to reflect, and ignored them all. Once upon a time the uniform would have earned you some respect. Not anymore. Now you were a target. “Excuse me, officer, but I seem to have misplaced my jar of warts.” “Pardon me, young elf, but my cat’s climbed a stalactite.” Or “If you have a minute, Captain, could you tell me how to get to the Fountain of Youth?” Holly shuddered. Tourists. She had troubles of her own. More than she knew, as she was about to find out.
In the station lobby, a kleptomaniac dwarf was busy picking the pockets of everyone else in the booking line, including the officer he was handcuffed to. Holly gave him a swipe in the backside with her buzz baton. The electric charge singed the seat of his leather pants.
“Whatcha doing there, Mulch?”
Mulch started, contraband dropping from his sleeves.
“Officer Short,” he whined, his face a mask of regret. “I can’t help myself. It’s my nature.”
“I know that, Mulch. And it’s our nature to throw you in a cell for a couple of centuries.”
She winked at the dwarf’s arresting officer.
“Nice to see you’re staying alert.”
The elf blushed, kneeling to pick up his wallet and badge.
Holly forged past Root’s office, hoping she would make it to her cubicle before . . .
“SHORT! GET IN HERE!”
Holly sighed. Ah well. Here we go again.
Stowing her helmet under her arm, Holly smoothed the creases from her uniform and stepped into Commander Root’s office.
Root’s face was purple with rage. This was more or less his general state of existence, a fact that had earned him the nickname “Beetroot.” There was an office pool running on how long he had before his heart exploded. The smart money was on half a century, at the outside.
Commander Root was tapping the moonometer on his wrist. “Well?” he demanded. “What time do you call this?”
Holly could feel her own face coloring. She was barely a minute late. There were at least a dozen officers