Eoin Colfer - Artemis Fowl. The Opal Deception

I’ve planted a couple of sensors of my own too. There’s nothing in there that can harm you. Worst-case scenario, you trip over your own feet and get a sprained ankle.’

Root’s complexion reddened all the way down his neck. ‘Foaly, do I have to remind you that your sensors have been fooled before? In this very terminal, if I remember correctly.’

‘OK, OK. Take it easy, Commander,’ said Foaly under his breath. ‘I haven’t forgotten about last year. How could I, with Holly reminding me every five minutes?’

The centaur lifted two sealed suitcases on to a workbench. He keyed in a number sequence on their security pads, and popped the lids.

‘These are the next-generation Recon suits. I was planning to unveil them at the LEP conference next month, but with a real live commander going into action, you’d better have them today.’

Holly pulled a jumpsuit from the case. It glittered briefly, then turned the colour of the van walls.

‘The fabric is actually woven from cam foil, so you are virtually hidden all the time. It saves you using your magical shield,’ explained Foaly. ‘Of course the function can be turned off. The wings are built into this suit. A completely retractable whisper design, a brand new concept in wing construction. They take their power from a cell on your belt, and of course each wing is coated with mini-solars for above-ground flights.

The suits also have their own pressure equalizers, so you can go directly from one environment to another without getting the bends.’

Root held the second suit in front of him. ‘These must cost a fortune.’

Foaly nodded. ‘You have no idea. Half of my research budget for last year went on developing these suits. They won’t replace the old suit for five years at least. These two are the only operational models we have, so I would appreciate having them back.

They are shockproof, fire-resistant, invisible to radar and relay a continuous stream of diagnostic information back to Police Plaza. The current LEP helmet sends us basic vitals data, but the new suit sends a second stream of information that can tell us if your arteries are blocked, diagnose fractured bones and even detect dry skin. It’s a flying clinic. There’s even a bulletproof plate on the chest, in case a human shoots at you.’

Holly held the suit in front of a green plasma screen. The cam foil instantly turned emerald.

‘I like it,’ she said. ‘Green is my colour.’

Trouble Kelp had commandeered some spotlights left on-site by the movie company, and he directed them into the shuttle port’s lower level. The stark light picked out every floating speck of dust, giving the entire departures area an underwater feel.

Commander Root and Captain Short edged into the room, weapons drawn and visors down.

‘What do you think of the suit?’ asked Holly, automatically keeping track of the various displays on the inside of her visor. LEP trainees often had difficulties developing the double focus needed to watch both the terrain and their helmet screens. This often resulted in an action known as ‘filling the vase’, which was how LEP officers referred to throwing up in one’s helmet.

‘Not bad,’ replied Root. ‘Light as a feather, and you wouldn’t even know you were wearing wings. Don’t tell Foaly I said that, his head is swelled enough as it is.’

‘No need to tell me, Commander,’ said Foaly’s voice in his earpiece. The speakers were a new, gel-vibration variety, and it sounded as though the centaur were in the helmet with him. ‘I’m with you every step of the way, from the safety of the shuttle, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Root dourly.

The pair advanced cautiously past a line of check-in booths. Foaly had assured them that there was no possible danger in this area of the terminal, but the centaur had been wrong before. And mistakes in the field cost lives.

The film company had decided that the actual dirt in the terminal was not authentic enough, so they had sprayed piles of grey foam in various corners. They had even added a doll’s head to one mound. A poignant touch, or so they thought. The walls and escalator were blackened with fake laser burns.

‘Quite a shooting match,’ said Root, grinning.

‘Slightly exaggerated. I doubt if half a dozen shots were fired.’

They proceeded through the embarkation area into the docking zone. The original shuttle used by the goblins in their smuggling runs had been resurrected, and it lay in the docking bay. The shuttle had been painted gloss black to make it seem more menacing, and a goblinesque decorated prow had been added to its nose.

‘How far?’ said Root, into his mike.

‘I’m transferring the thermal signature to your helmets,’ replied Foaly.

Seconds later, a schematic appeared in their visors. The plan was slightly confusing as, in effect, they were looking down on themselves. There were three heat sources in the building. Two were close together, moving slowly towards the chute itself. Holly and the commander. The third figure was stationary in the access tunnel.

Metres past the third figure, the thermo scan was whited out by the ambient heat from E37.

They reached the blast doors, two metres of solid steel that separated the access tunnel from the rest of the terminal. Shuttles and titanium eggs would glide in on a magnetized rail, to be dropped into the chute itself. The doors were sealed.

‘Can you open these remotely, Foaly?’

‘But of course, Commander. I have managed, quite ingeniously, to marry my operating system with the terminal’s old computers. That wasn’t as easy as it sounds —’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ said the commander, cutting Foaly off. ‘Just push the button, before I come out there and push it with your face.’

‘Some things never change,’ muttered Foaly, pushing the button.

The access tunnel smelled like a blast furnace. Ancient swirls of melted ore hung from the roof and the ground underfoot was cracked and treacherous. Each footfall punctured a crust of soot, leaving a trail of deep footprints. There was another set of footprints — leading to the shadowy figure huddled on the ground, a short distance from the chute itself.

‘There,’ said Root.

‘Got him,’ said Holly, resting the bullseye of her laser sight on the figure’s trunk.

‘Keep him covered,’ ordered the commander. ‘I’m going down.’

Root advanced along the tunnel, keeping well out of Holly’s line of fire. If Scalene did make a move, Holly would need a clear shot. But the general, if it were him, squatted immobile, his spine curled along the tunnel wall. His frame was covered by a full-length hooded cape.

The commander turned on his helmet PA so he could be heard above the howl of core wind.

‘You there. Stand facing the wall. Place your hands on your head.’

The figure did not move. Holly had not expected it to. Root stepped closer, always cautious, knees bent, ready to dive to one side. He poked the figure’s shoulder with his Neutrino 3000.

‘On your feet, Scalene.’

The poke was sufficient to knock the figure sideways. The goblin keeled over,

landing face up on the tunnel floor. Soot flakes fluttered around him like disturbed bats.

The hood flopped to one side, revealing the figure’s face, most importantly the eyes.

‘It’s him,’ said Root. ‘He’s been mesmerized.’

The general’s slitted eyes were bloodshot and vacant. This was a serious development, as it confirmed that somebody else had planned the escape, and Holly and Root had walked into a trap.

‘I recommend we leave,’ said Holly. ‘Immediately.’

‘No,’ said Root, leaning over the goblin. ‘Now that we’re here, we might as well take Scalene back with us.’

He placed his free hand on the goblin’s collar, preparing to haul him to his feet.

Later, Holly would record in her report that it was at this precise moment that things began to go terribly wrong. What had been a routine — albeit strange — assignment suddenly became an altogether more sinister affair.

‘Do not touch me, elf,’ said a voice. A hissing, goblin voice. Scalene’s voice. But how could that be? The general’s lips had not moved.

Root reared back, then steadied himself. ‘What’s going on here?’

Holly’s soldier’s sense was buzzing at the base of her neck. ‘Whatever it is, we won’t like it. We should go, Commander, right now.’

Root’s features were thoughtful. ‘That voice came from his chest.’

‘Maybe he had surgery,’ said Holly. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

The commander reached down, flipping Scalene’s cape aside. There was a metal box strapped to the general’s chest. The box was thirty centimetres square, with a small screen in the centre. There was a shadowy face on the screen, and it was talking.

‘Ah, Julius,’ it said in Scalene’s voice. ‘I knew you’d come. Commander Root’s famous ego would not allow him to stay out of the action. An obvious trap, and you walked straight into it.’

The voice was definitely Scalene’s, but there was something about the phrasing,

the cadence. It was too sophisticated for a goblin. Sophisticated, and strangely familiar.

‘Have you figured it out yet, Captain Short?’ said the voice. A voice that was changing. Slipping into a higher register. The tones were no longer male, not even goblin. That’s a Jemale talking, thought Holly. A Jemale that I know.

A face appeared on the screen. A beautiful and malicious face, its eyes bright with hate. Opal Koboi’s face. The rest of the head was swathed in bandages, but the features were only too visible.

Holly began to speak rapidly into her helmet mike.

‘Foaly, we have a situation here. Opal Koboi is loose. I repeat, Koboi is loose. This whole thing is a trap. Cordon off the area, five-hundred-metre perimeter, and bring in the medical warlocks. Someone is about to get hurt.’

The face on the screen laughed, tiny pixie teeth glinting like pearls.

‘Talk all you want, Captain Short. Foaly can’t hear you. My device has blocked your transmissions as easily as I blocked your seeker-sleeper and the substance scan that I assume you ran. Your little centaur friend can see you, though. I left him his precious lenses.’

Holly immediately zoomed in on Opal’s pixelated face. If Foaly got a shot of the pixie, he would figure out the rest.

Again Koboi laughed. Opal was genuinely enjoying herself.

‘Oh, very good, Captain. You were always a smart one. Relatively speaking, of course. Show Foaly my face and he will initiate an alert. Sorry to disappoint you, Holly, but this entire device is constructed from stealth ore and is practically invisible to the artificial eye. All Foaly will see is a slight shimmer of interference.’

Stealth ore had been developed for space vehicles. It absorbed every form of wave or signal known to fairy or man and so was virtually invisible to everything but the naked eye. It was also incredibly expensive to manufacture. Even the small amount necessary to cover Koboi’s device would have cost a warehouse full of gold.

Root straightened quickly. ‘The odds are against us here, Captain. Let’s move out.’

Holly didn’t bother with relief. Opal Koboi wouldn’t make things that easy. There was no way they were just walking out of here. If Foaly could hijack the terminal’s computers, then so could Koboi.

Opal’s laugh stretched to an almost hysterical screech.

‘Move out? How very tactical of you, Commander. You really need to expand your vocabulary. Whatever next? Duck and cover?’

Holly peeled back a Velcro patch on her sleeve, revealing a Gnommish keyboard.

She quickly accessed her helmet’s LEP criminal database, opening Opal Koboi’s file in her visor.

‘Opal Koboi,’ said Corporal Frond’s voice. The LEP always used Lili Frond for voice-overs and recruitment videos. She was glamorous and elegant, with flowing blond tresses and inch-long manicured nails that were absolutely no use in the field. ‘LEP enemy number one. Currently under guard in the J. Argon Clinic. Opal Koboi is a certified genius, scoring over three hundred on the standardized IQ test. She is also a suspected megalomaniac, with an obsessive personality. Studies indicate that Koboi may be a pathological liar and suffer from mild schizophrenia. For more detailed information please consult the LEP central library on the second floor of Police Plaza.’

Holly closed the file. An obsessive genius and a pathological liar. Just what they needed. The information didn’t help a lot; what it told her she pretty much already knew. Opal was loose, she wanted to kill them and she was smart enough to figure out how to do it.

Opal was still enjoying her triumph.

‘You don’t know how long I have waited for this moment,’ the pixie said, then paused. ‘Actually, you do know. After all, you were the ones who wrecked my plan. And now I have you both.’

Holly was puzzled. Opal may have had serious mental issues, but that could not be confused with stupidity. Why would she prattle on? Was she trying to distract them?

The same thought occurred to Root. ‘Holly! The doors!’

Holly whirled round, to see the blast doors sliding across, their engines masked by core wind. If those doors closed, they would be completely cut off from the LEP, and at the mercy of Opal Koboi.

Holly targeted the magnetic rollers along the doors’ upper rim, sinking blast after blast from her Neutrino into their mechanisms. The doors jerked in their housings but did not stop. Two of the rollers blew out, but the massive portals’ momentum carried them together. They connected with an ominous bong.

‘Alone at last,’ said Opal, sounding for all the world like an innocent college fairy on her first date.

Root pointed his weapon at the device belted round Scalene’s middle, as if he could somehow hurt Koboi.

‘What do you want?’ he demanded.

‘You know what I want,’ replied Opal. ‘The question is, how am I going to get it?

What form of revenge would be the most satisfying? Naturally, you will both end up dead, but that’s not enough. I want you to suffer as I did, discredited and despised. One of you at least — the other will have to be sacrificed. I don’t really care which.’

Root retreated to the blast doors, motioning for Holly to follow.

‘Options?’ he whispered, his back to Koboi’s device.

Holly raised her visor, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. The helmets were air conditioned, but sometimes sweating had nothing to do with temperature.

‘We have to get out of here,’ she said. ‘The chute is the only way.’

Root nodded. ‘Agreed. We fly up far enough to clear Koboi’s blocker signal, then alert Major Kelp.’

‘What about Scalene? He’s mesmerized to the gills, he can’t look after himself. If we do escape, Opal is not going to leave him around as evidence.’

It was basic criminal logic. Your typical ‘take over the world’ types were not averse to knocking off a few of their own if it meant a clean getaway.