The Artemis Fowl Files - Eoin Colfer [14]
Captain Kelp and Commander Root were in mortal danger, and her orders were to twiddle her thumbs. If she flew the shuttle she would be in breach of a direct order, and her career in Recon would be over before it began. But if she didn’t fly it, then her comrades were dead. Which was more important, career or comrades?
Holly stuffed the starter chip into the ignition slot and strapped herself in.
Turnball Root was enjoying himself immensely. Finally the moment he had dreamed about for so many decades had arrived. His baby brother was at his mercy.
“I thought I might keep you here for the next twenty-four hours until your magic is completely gone. Then we will become true brothers again. A real team. Perhaps you will decide to join me. If not, you certainly won’t be leading the chase. The LEP do not employ personnel without magic.”
Root was curled up in a ball on the floor, his face greener than a sprite’s behind. “Dream on,” he grunted. “You’re no brother of mine.”
Turnball pinched his cheek. “You’ll warm to me, little brother. It’s amazing who a fairy turns to in times of desperation. Believe me, I know.”
“In your dreams.”
Turnball sighed. “Still obstinate. You are probably entertaining notions of escape. Or perhaps you believe that in the end, I could never hurt my baby brother. Is that it? You believe that I have a heart? Perhaps a small demonstration …”
Turnball lifted Captain Kelp’s head from his chest. Trouble was barely conscious. He had been in the house for too long. He would never run at a hundred percent of his magical potential again. Not without an infusion from a team of warlocks. And soon. Turnball held a small cage up to Trouble’s face. Inside, a Tunnel Blue spider scratched at the mesh.
“I like these creatures,” said Turnball gently. “They will go through anything to survive. They remind me of myself. This little one will make short work of the captain here.”
Root tried to raise a hand. “Turnball, don’t.”
“I must,” said Turnball. “Think of it as already done. There is nothing you can do.”
“Turnball. It’s murder.”
“Murder is a word. Just another word.”
Turnball Root began wiggling the tiny bolt. Barely an inch of metal was left to hold the hatch, when a spearlike communications spike punctured the roof, embedding itself in the floorboards. Holly’s amplified voice boomed from the speaker in the shaft, shaking the entire house.
“Turnball Root,” said the voice. “Release your prisoners and surrender.”
Turnball reset the bolt, pocketing the cage. “The girl is dead, eh? When are you going to stop lying to me, Julius?” Julius was too weak to respond. The world had become a bad dream. He was breathing treacle.
Turnball turned his attention to the com spike. He knew that the instrument would broadcast his words to the shuttle above.
“The pretty corporal, alive and well. Ah well, no matter. You cannot come in, and I will not go out. If you do enter, I will go free. Not only that, but I will have gained a shuttle. If you try to detain me when I am ready to leave, then my arrest will be illegal and my lawyer will carve you up like a whale in a human boat.”
“I will blast that house to kingdom come,” warned Holly, through the com spike.
Turnball spread his arms. “Blast away. You will put me out of my misery. But when the first bolt hits, I will feed my spider to the commander. The Root brothers will not be surviving this assault. Face it, Corporal. You cannot win as long as this house stands.”
Overhead in the shuttle, Holly realized that Turnball had all the angles covered. He knew the LEP rulebook better than she did. Even though she was the one with the aircraft, Turnball was the one with the upper hand. If she broke the rules, then he simply walked away and took off in his own shuttle, which was no doubt concealed somewhere close by.
“You cannot win as long as this house stands.”
He was right. She couldn’t win as long as a human dwelling surrounded her fellow LEP officers. But what if there were no dwelling?
Holly quickly checked the shuttle’s specs. It had