The Artemis Fowl Files - Eoin Colfer [15]
“You cannot win as long as this house stands.”
Holly felt sweat break out on the nape of her neck. Was she crazy? Could what she had planned ever stand up in court? It didn’t matter, she decided. Lives were at stake.
She flipped the safety covers from the prow clamps, angling the shuttle so that the nose was pointing at the fisherman’s cottage.
“Final warning, Turnball,” Holly said into the com spike. “Are you coming out?”
“Not just yet, my dear,” came the cheerful reply. “But do feel free to come in and join us.”
Holly did not bother with more conversation. She deployed the prow clamps with the flick of a switch. The clamps on this particular model were operated by opposing magnetic fields, and there was a slight pulse in the readouts as the two cylindrical clamps rocketed from the belly of the shuttle and straight through the roof of the cottage.
Holly set the cable for twenty yards so the clamps would not reach head height. Gripper claws extended from the clamps, grasping wooden joists, floorboards, and plaster. Holly retracted the clamps, discarding the detritus. Most of the roof was gone, and the south wall teetered dangerously. Holly took a quick photo and ran it through the computer for analysis.
“Computer,” she said. “Verbal query.”
“Proceed,” said the computer in the tones of Foaly, the LEP’s technical wizard.
“Locate load-bearing points.”
“Locating.” In seconds the computer had reduced the photograph to a 3D line representation. Four red dots pulsed gently on the drawing. If she could hit any one, the entire house would collapse. Holly looked closer. Demolition had been one of her favorite classes at the Academy, and she could see that if she took out the first-floor crossbeam on the gable end, then what was left of the house would collapse outward.
Turnball was ranting into the com spike. “What are you playing at?” he roared. “You can’t do this. It’s against regulations. Even if you tear off the roof, you can’t come into this house.”
“What house?” said Holly, and fired the third clamp.
The clamp grabbed the beam and ripped it right out of the brickwork. The house groaned like a mortally wounded giant, then shuddered and collapsed. The collapse was almost comical in its suddenness, and barely a brick fell inward. Turnball Root was left with nowhere to hide.
Holly put a laser dot on Turnball’s chest. “Take one step,” she said, “and I will blast you into the ocean.”
“You can’t shoot me,” Turnball retorted. “You’re not certified for combat.”
“No,” said a voice beside him. “But I am.”
Trouble Kelp was on his feet, dragging the enormous chair behind him. He launched himself at Turnball Root, and they went down in a tangle of wooden and flesh-and-bone legs.
Overhead in the shuttle, Holly slapped the dash. She had been quite prepared to knock out Turnball Root with a laser sting; after all, it was a little late to start worrying about regulations. She piloted the shuttle to a safe distance, and swooped in for landing.
In the cottage ruins, Commander Root’s strength was slowly returning. Now that the human dwelling was effectively destroyed, the magic sickness was receding fast. He coughed, shook his head, and climbed to his knees.
Trouble was fighting with Turnball in the rubble. Fighting and losing. Turnball might be older, but he was possessed and lucid. He smashed blow after blow into the captain’s face.
Julius picked up a rifle from the floor. “Give it up, Turnball,” he said tiredly. “It’s over.”
Turnball’s shoulders sagged, and he turned slowly. “Ah, Julius. Little brother. It’s come to this, once more. Brother against brother.”
“Stop talking, please. Lie flat on the ground with your hands behind your head. You know the position.”
Turnball did not lie down, instead he stood slowly, talking seductively all the time. “This doesn’t have to be the end. Just let me go. I’ll be out of