The Artemis Fowl Files - Eoin Colfer [37]
“Hey, take it easy,” said Mulch.
“And what is this?” demanded Artemis, pointing to Mulch’s helmet in the dirt.
“I dunno,” said Derph. “It’s an LEP … I mean, the intruder’s helmet. It’s her helmet.”
Artemis waggled a finger. “I think not, unless your tiny intruder has two heads. She is already wearing a helmet.”
Derph did the maths. “Hey, that’s right. So where did that helmet come from?”
Artemis shrugged. “I just got here, but I would guess that you have a traitor in your midst.”
The dwarfs turned, as one, toward Mulch.
“The mask!” growled Derph. “Take it off! Now!”
Mulch shot Artemis a look through the mask’s eyeholes. “Thanks a bunch.”
The dwarfs advanced in a semicircle, knives raised.
Artemis stepped in front of the group. “Halt, little men,” he said imperiously. “There is only one way to save this operation, and that is certainly not by staining the earth with blood. Leave these two to my bodyguard, and then we shall commence negotiations.”
Derph smelled a rat. “Wait a minute. How do we know you’re with Stern? You waltz in here just in time to save these two. It’s all a bit convenient if you ask me.”
“That’s why nobody asks you,” retorted Artemis. “Because you’re a dullard.”
Derph’s dagger glittered dangerously. “I’ve had it with you, kid. I say we get rid of all witnesses and move on.”
“Fine,” said Artemis. “This charade is beginning to bore me.” He raised his palm to his mouth. “Time for plan B.”
Outside the tent, Butler wrapped the tent’s mainstay around his wrist and pulled. He was a man of prodigious strength, and soon the metal pegs began to slide from the mud that held them. The canvas cracked, rippling and ripping. The dwarfs gaped at the billowing canvas.
“The sky is falling,” screamed a particularly dense one.
Holly took advantage of the sudden confusion, grabbing a stun grenade on her belt. She had seconds left before the dwarfs cut their losses and went subterranean. Once that happened it was all over. No one could catch a dwarf below ground. By the time Retrieval got here, the dwarfs would be miles away. The grenade was a strobe that sent out flashing light at such high frequency that too many messages were sent simultaneously to the watcher’s brain, shutting it down temporarily. Dwarfs were particularly susceptible to this kind of weapon, as they had a low light tolerance in the first place.
Artemis noticed the silver orb in Holly’s hand.
“Butler,” he said into his mike. “We need to get out of here! Now. Northeast corner.”
He grabbed Mulch’s collar, leading him backward. Overhead the canvas was falling, its descent cushioned by trapped air.
“We go,” screamed Derph. “We go now. Leave everything and dig.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” gasped Holly, her breath rasping along a bruised windpipe. She twisted the timer, rolling the grenade into the midst of the Significants. It was the perfect weapon against dwarfs. Shiny. No dwarf can resist anything shiny. Even Mulch was watching the glittering sphere, and would have kept watching until the flash, had Butler not slit a five-foot gash in the canvas and yanked the pair through the gap.
“Plan B,” he grunted. “Next time we pay more attention to the backup strategy.”
“Recriminations later,” said Artemis briskly. “If Holly is here, then backup won’t be far away. There must have been some kind of tracker on the helmet, something he hadn’t detected. Perhaps in one of the coatings. “Here’s the new plan. With the arrival of the LEP, we must split up now. I will write you a check for your share of the tiara. One point eight million euros, a fair black-market price.”
“A check? Are you joking?” objected Mulch. “How do I know I can trust you, Mud Boy?”
“Believe me,” said Artemis. “I am not to be trusted, generally. But we made a deal, and I don’t cheat my partners. You could, of course, wait here for the LEP to arrive and discover your miraculous recovery from the usually fatal affliction of death.”
Mulch snatched the offered check. “If this doesn’t clear, then I’m coming to Fowl Manor, and remember I know how to get in.