The Artemis Fowl Files - Eoin Colfer [26]
Foaly consulted a computer file on the com-card in his palm. “It’s an old model. Best guess, a surface fence sold it to a rogue dwarf.”
Root crushed the cigar into an ashtray. “Dwarfs. If they’re not mining protected areas, they’re stealing from the humans. Do we have a name?”
“No. The signal is too weak for us to run a voice-pattern analysis. Anyway, even if we could, as you know, due to the unique positioning of their larynx, all dwarf males have basically the same voice.”
“This is all I need,” groaned the commander. “Another dwarf on the surface. I thought we’d seen the last of that when …” He paused, saddened by a sudden memory. The dwarf Mulch Diggums had been killed months earlier, tunneling out of Artemis Fowl’s manor. Mulch had been a huge pain in the rear end, but he hadn’t been without charisma.
“So, what do we know?”
Foaly read from a list on his screen. “Our unidentified subject burrows into a Manhattan basement, where he meets Artemis Fowl Junior. Then they leave together, so something is definitely up.”
“What is up, exactly?”
“We don’t know. Fowl knew enough about our technology to turn off the mike, and the self-destruct, probably because Butler took a load of equipment from LEP Retrieval during the Fowl Manor siege.”
“What about global positioning? Did Artemis know enough to turn that off?”
Foaly grinned smugly. “That can’t be turned off. Those old helmets had a tracker layer sprayed on.”
“How fortunate for us. Where are they now?”
“In Fowl’s jet, heading for Ireland. It’s a Lear, top of the line.” Foaly noticed the commander’s laser stare. “But you probably don’t care about the jet, so let’s move on, shall we?”
“Yes, let’s,” said Root caustically. “Do we have anyone topside?” Foaly activated a large plasma screen on the wall, quickly negotiating his way through files to a world map. There were fairy icons pulsing in various countries.
“We have three Retrieval teams but nobody in the old country.”
“Naturally,” groaned Root. “That would be far too handy.” He paused. “Where’s Captain Short?”
“On vacation aboveground. I would remind you that she’s off field duty, pending a tribunal.”
Root waggled his fingers at imaginary regulations. “Minor detail. Holly knows Fowl better than any fairy alive. Where is she?”
Foaly consulted his computer, as if he didn’t already know. As if he didn’t make a dozen calls from his workstation every day, to see if Holly had picked up that hoof moisturizer he’d asked for.
“She’s in the Cominetto Spa. I don’t know about this, Commander. Holly is tough, but Artemis Fowl kidnapped her. Her judgement could be clouded.”
“No,” said Root. “Holly is one of my best officers, even if she doesn’t believe it. Get me a line to that spa. She’s going back to Fowl Manor.”
CHAPTER 3: THE SEVENTH DWARF
The Island of Cominetto, Off the Coast of Malta, The Mediterranean
THE Cominetto Spa is the most exclusive holiday destination for the People. It took several years of repeated application to get visa approval for a visit, but Foaly had done a little computer hocus-pocus to get Holly on the shuttle to the Spa. She needed the break after what she’d been through. And was still going through. For now, instead of giving her a medal for saving half of the ransom fund, LEP Internal Affairs was actually investigating her.
In the past week, Holly had been exfoliated, laser peeled, purged (don’t ask), and tweezered within an inch of her life, all in the name of relaxation. Her coffee-colored skin was smooth and blemish free, and her cropped auburn hair glowed with internal luster. But she was bored out of her skull.
The sky was blue, the sea was green, and the living was easy. And Holly knew that she would go completely berserk if she had to spend one more minute being pampered. But Foaly had been so pleased when he had set this trip up that she didn’t have the heart to tell him how fed up she was.
Today she was lying in a bubble pool of algae sludge having her pores rejuvenated and playing Guess