The Last Guardian

Foaly chewed a nail. “There’s no time to wait for Council approval,” he said to Trouble Kelp. “Most should make it to the shuttle bays. But we need to ready the emergency resuscitation teams.”

 

 

Butler was less than happy with the idea of losing Artemis. “Nobody’s death is impending.”

 

His principal didn’t seem overly concerned. “Well, technically, everybody’s death is impending.”

 

“Shut up, Artemis!” snapped Butler, which was a major breach of his own professional ethics. “I promised your mother that I would look after you, and yet again you have put me in a position where my brawn and skills count for nothing.”

 

“That is hardly fair,” said Artemis. “I hardly think that I can be blamed for Opal’s latest stunt.”

 

Butler’s face blazed a few shades redder than Artemis could remember having seen it. “I do think you can be blamed, and I do blame you. We’re barely clear of the consequences of your last misadventure, and here we are neck deep in another one.”

 

Artemis seemed more shocked by this outburst than by the impending death situation.

 

“Butler, I had no idea you were harboring such frustration.”

 

The bodyguard rubbed his cropped head.

 

“Neither had I,” he admitted. “But for the past few years it’s been one thing after another. Goblins, time travel, demons. Now this place where everything is so…so…small.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay. I said it, it’s out there. And I am fine now. So let’s move on, shall we? What’s the plan?”

 

“Keep evacuating,” said Artemis. “No more empowering those hostage-taking nitwits; they have their instructions. Drop the blast doors, which should help absorb some of the shock waves.”

 

“We have our strategies in place, human,” said Trouble Kelp. “The entire population can be at their assembly points in five minutes.”

 

Artemis paced, thinking. “Tell your people to dump their weapons into the magma chutes. Leave anything that might have Koboi technology behind. Phones, games, everything.”

 

“All Koboi weaponry has been retired,” said Holly. “But some of the older Neutrinos might have a chip or two.”

 

Trouble Kelp had the grace to look guilty. “Some of the Koboi weaponry has been retired,” he said. “Budget cuts—you know how it is.”

 

Pip interrupted their preparations by actually rapping on the camera lens.

 

“Hey, LEP people. I’m getting old here. Somebody say something, anything. Tell us more lies—we don’t care.”

 

Artemis’s eyebrows furrowed and joined. He did not appreciate such flippant posturing when many lives were at stake. He pointed at the microphone.

 

“May I?”

 

Trouble barely looked up from his emergency calls and made a vague gesture that was open to interpretation. Artemis chose to interpret it as an affirmative.

 

He approached the screen. “Listen to me, you lowlife. This is Artemis Fowl. You may have heard of me.”

 

Pip grinned, and his mask echoed the expression.

 

“Oooh, Artemis Fowl. Wonder boy. We’ve heard of you alright, haven’t we, Kip?”

 

Kip nodded, dancing a little jig. “Artemis Fowl, the Oirish boy who chased leprechauns. Sure and begorra everyone has heard of that smarty-pants.”

 

These two are stupid, thought Artemis. They are stupid and talk too much, and I should be able to exploit those weaknesses.

 

He tried a ruse.

 

“I thought I told you to read your demands and say nothing more.”

 

Pip’s face was literally a mask of confusion. “You told us?”

 

Artemis hardened his voice. “My instructions for you two idiots were to read the demands, wait until the time was up, then shoot the pixie. I don’t recall saying anything about trading insults.”

 

Pip’s mask frowned. How did Artemis Fowl know their instructions?

 

“Your instructions? We don’t take orders from you.”

 

“Really? Explain to me then how I know your instructions to the letter.”

 

Pip’s mask software was not able to cope with his rapid expression change and froze momentarily.

 

“I…ah…I don’t…”

 

“And tell me how I knew the exact frequency to tap into.”

 

“You’re not in Police Plaza?”

 

“Of course not, you idiot. I’m at the rendezvous point waiting for Opal.”

 

Artemis felt his heart speed up, and he waited a second for his conscious mind to catch up with his subconscious and tell him what he recognized onscreen.

 

Something in the background.

 

Something familiar.

 

The wall behind Pip and Kip was nondescript gray, rendered with roughly finished plaster. A common finish for farm walls worldwide. There were walls like this all over the Fowl Estate.

 

Ba boom.

 

There went his heart again.

 

Artemis concentrated on the wall. Slate-gray, except for a network of jagged cracks that sundered the plasterwork.