Artemis Fowl: the time paradox

CHAPTER 7: TALK TO THE ANIMALS

THE Fowl Bentley was protected by a fingerprint scanner and a keypad that required an eight-digit code. The code was changed every month, and so it took Artemis a few seconds to mentally rewind almost eight years and remember the right set of numbers.

He slid across the front seat’s tan leather upholstery and pressed his thumb to a second scanner tucked behind the steering wheel. A spring-loaded compartment slid smoothly from the dash. It was not a large compartment, but big enough to hold a clip of cash, platinum credit cards and a spare mobile phone in its cradle.

‘No gun?’ asked Holly when Artemis emerged from the car, though one of Butler’s guns would be clunky in her fingers.

‘No gun,’ confirmed Artemis.

‘I wouldn’t be able to hit an elephant with one of Butler’s pistols even if I had one.’

‘Elephants are not the quarry this evening,’ said Artemis, speaking in English, now that they were out of the boot. ‘Lemurs are. At any rate, as we could hardly shoot at our opponent on this particular adventure, perhaps it’s better that we are unarmed.’

‘Not really,’ said Holly. ‘I may not be able to shoot you or the lemur, but I bet that more opponents will turn up. You have a knack of making enemies.’

Artemis shrugged. ‘Genius inspires resentment. A sad fact of life.’

‘Genius and robbing stuff,’ Mulch chimed from his perch on the lip of the car boot. ‘Take it from one who knows: nobody likes a smart thief.’

Artemis drummed his fingers on the fender.

‘We have certain advantages. Elfin magic. Digging talents. I have almost eight years’ experience in the art of mischief making that the other Artemis does not have.’

‘Mischief making?’ scoffed Holly. ‘I think you’re being a little gentle on yourself. Grand larceny is closer to the mark.’

Artemis stopped drumming. ‘One of your fairy powers is speaking in tongues, correct?’

‘I’m talking to you, aren’t I?’ responded Holly.

‘Just how many tongues can you speak in?’

Holly smiled. She knew Artemis’s devious mind well enough to realize exactly where he was going with this.

‘As many as you want.’

‘Good,’ said Artemis. ‘We need to split up. You take the overground route into Rathdown Park, Mulch and I travel underground. If we need a distraction, use your gift.’

‘It would be a pleasure,’ said Holly, and immediately turned translucent as though she were a creature of purest water. The last thing to go was her smile. Just like the Cheshire Cat.

He remembered a few lines from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

‘But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ said Alice.

‘Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the cat. ‘We’re all mad here.’

Artemis glanced at the pungent dwarf searching his living beard for stored insects.

We’re all mad here too, he thought.

Holly approached the main door of Rathdown Park with care even though she was shielded. The People had thought themselves invisible to Butler once before and had paid with trauma and bruises. She would not underestimate the bodyguard, and the fact that he was once again her enemy set her stomach churning with nervous acid.

The human clothes jumped and scratched along her frame. They were not built for shielding and in a matter of minutes they would shake to pieces.

I miss my Neutrino, she thought, looking at the reinforced-steel door, with the dark unknown beyond it. And I miss Foaly and his satellite link-ups.

But at heart Holly was an adventurer, so the idea of quitting never even occurred to her.

It was difficult to operate mechanisms while shielded, so Holly powered down for the few seconds necessary to jimmy the door with her Omnitool. It was an old model, but Holly’s mother had paid an extra few ingots for upgrades. The standard Omnitool would open any door operating on a simple mechanical lock-and-key system. This one could short electronic locks too, and even deactivate simple alarms.

But that shouldn’t be necessary, she thought. As far as Artemis remembers, he turned off all the alarms.

The thought didn’t give her much comfort. Artemis had been wrong about this trip already.

In less than five seconds, the Omnitool had done its job and vibrated gently like a cat purring at its own cleverness. The heavy door swung open silently under the lightest touch and Holly buzzed up her shield again.

Stepping into Rathdown Park, Holly felt more mission anxiety than she had in years.

I’m a rookie again. Some kid straight out of the Academy, she realized. My mind is experienced, but my body is overruling it.

And then: I better get this monkey quick before adolescence kicks in.

Young Artemis had turned off the security on his way into the institute. It had been an easy thing to bypass all the alarms with the director’s key card. Earlier in the day, when he had been given the guided tour, he had posed several complicated questions on the validity of the theory of evolution. The director, a committed evolutionist, had allowed his arguments to distract him long enough to have his pocket picked by Butler. Once the key card was in the bodyguard’s possession, he simply slotted it into a battery-powered Card Cloner in his breast pocket, and whistled a few bars of Mozart to cover the whirr of the machine.

Two minutes later all the information they needed was stored in the Cloner’s memory, the director’s card was back in his pocket and Artemis suddenly decided that maybe evolution wasn’t a bad theory after all.

‘Though there are more holes in it than a Dutch dam made of Swiss cheese,’ he’d confided to Butler on the way home from Rathdown Park. Butler had been encouraged by this statement. It was almost a straightforward joke.

Later that evening young Artemis had popped a button camera into the air-con duct at the rear of the Bentley.

All the better to keep an eye on our guests.

The female was interesting. Fascinating, actually. The darts would wear off soon and it would be intriguing to watch her reaction, much more so than that of the hirsute teenager, even though his broad forehead suggested intelligence and his general features had a lot in common with the Fowl family’s own. In fact, he reminded Artemis of an old photo he had once seen of his father as a boy, working on an archaeological dig in South America. Perhaps the male captive was a distant cousin hoping to claim some kind of birthright now that Father was missing. There was much to be investigated here.

The button camera was broadcasting to his mobile phone and ten-year-old Artemis checked the screen occasionally as Butler guided him through Rathdown Park towards the lemur’s cage.

‘Focus, Artemis,’ chided the bodyguard. ‘One dastardly crime at a time.’

Artemis glanced up from his phone. ‘Dastardly, Butler? Dastardly? Honestly, we are not cartoon characters. I do not have a villainous laugh or an eyepatch.’

‘Not yet. Though you’ll have an eyepatch soon enough if you don’t concentrate on the job at hand.’

They were passing underneath Rathdown Park’s aquarium through a perspex tunnel that allowed scientists and the occasional visitor to observe the species housed in the million-gallon tank. The tank mimicked the inhabitants’ natural environment as far as possible. Different compartments had different temperatures and different vegetation. Some were saltwater, others were fresh, but all housed endangered or rare creatures.

Tiny bulbs dotted the ceiling above, simulating stars, and the only other light came from the bioluminescence of a lantern shark, which shadowed Artemis and Butler along the tunnel until its snout bumped perspex.

Artemis was more interested in his mobile phone than the shark’s eerily glowing photophores.

Events were unfolding on his screen that were close to incredible. Artemis stopped in his tracks to fully absorb what he was seeing.

The Fowl Manor intruders had escaped the Bentley’s boot with the help of an accomplice. Another non-human.

I am entering a new world here. These creatures are potentially more lucrative than a lemur. Should I abandon this venture and concentrate on the non-humans?

Artemis maximized the volume on his handset but the tiny microphone attached to the button camera could only pick up snatches of the conversation.

It was mostly in some alien tongue, but some of the talk was in English and he heard the word lemur more than once.

Perhaps this lemur is more valuable than I realized. The animal is the bait that lures these creatures in.

A minute passed with only the small, revolting dwarflike thing in the screen, perching its disproportionately large backside on the rim of the boot, then the female appeared, only to promptly disappear — Rathdown Park’s famous pylons filling the screen where she had been.

Artemis tightened his grip on the phone.

Invisibility? The energy involved in creating a reflective field, or to generate high-speed vibration, must be incredible.

He quickly navigated the phone’s menu and activated the digital thermal imager, a decidedly non-standard option, and was relieved to see the female creature’s form blossom on screen in warm tones.

Good. Not gone, just hard to see.

Keeping one eye on his phone, Artemis called to his bodyguard.

‘Butler, old friend. Slight change of plan.’

The bodyguard knew better than to hope the lemur hunt was off. ‘We’re still on the trail of a little creature, though, I’ll bet.’

‘Creatures,’ said ten-year-old Artemis. ‘Plural.’

Fourteen-year-old Artemis was not enjoying the view. To distract himself he composed a haiku describing the sight before him.

Pale, shuddering globes

Churn their poisonous cargo

Bald heads in a bag

Mulch Diggums was not feeling quite so poetic. He stopped digging and rehinged his jaw.

‘Could you please stop shining the torch on my backside? I blister easily. We dwarves are extremely photosensitive, even to artificial light.’

Artemis had taken the torch from the Bentley’s breakdown kit, and was following Mulch through a fresh tunnel to the lemur’s cage. The dwarf had assured him that the tunnel was sufficiently short for him to hold in the dirt and air until they reached the other end, making it safe for Artemis to be directly behind him.

Artemis averted the torch for a few seconds, thinking that a bum blister was the last thing he wanted to see, but after a while the beam strayed back to the pale, wobbling flesh once more.

‘Just a quick question. If you can hold in all the diggings, then why does your bum-flap need to be open?’

Mulch was spitting large wads of dwarf phlegm on to the wall to shore up the tunnel.

‘In case of emergency,’ he explained. ‘I could swallow a buried lug of metal, or strip of old tyre. Now, those I would have to evacuate on the spot, annoying Mud Boy to the rear or not. No sense in ruining my trousers too, now is there, dopey?’

‘I suppose not,’ said Artemis, thinking that with such a wide-bore loaded weapon pointed at him he could bear being called dopey.

‘Anyway,’ continued the dwarf, hawking another wad at the wall, ‘you should consider yourself privileged. Not many humans have seen a dwarf working with spit. This is what you might call an ancient art. First you-’

‘I know, I know,’ interrupted Artemis impatiently. ‘First you excavate, then you strengthen the walls with your spittle, which hardens on contact with the air, provided it’s out of your mouth, obviously. And it’s luminous too — amazing material.’

Mulch’s behind wobbled in surprise. ‘How do you know these secrets?’

‘You told me, or rather you will tell me. Time travel, remember?’

The dwarf peered over his shoulders, eyes red in the glow of his spittle. ‘Just how close do we become?’

‘Very close. We get an apartment together and after a whirlwind courtship you marry my sister and honeymoon in Vegas.’

‘I love Vegas,’ said Mulch wistfully. Then: ‘Such snide wit. I can see how we might be friends. All the same, keep your comments to yourself or we might have to see how funny you are covered in tunnel waste.’

Artemis swallowed hard and moved the torch beam away from Mulch’s behind.

The plan was a simple one. They would tunnel beneath the compound and wait below the lemur’s cage for Holly to contact them on the short-range LEP adhesive communicator stuck to Artemis’s cheek — part of Mulch’s stash. From that point forward, the plan became fluid. Either they would pop up and grab the lemur while Holly caused consternation among the animals, or, if young Artemis had already secured the lemur, Mulch would dig a hole under Butler, making it easier for Holly to relieve the boy of his prize.

All very straightforward, thought Artemis. Which is unusual for me.

‘OK, Mud Boy,’ said Mulch, scooping a bulb-shaped hollow with his flat fingers. ‘We are here. X marks the monkey.’

‘Lemur,’ corrected Artemis automatically. ‘Are you certain you can distinguish this particular animal’s scent from all the others?’

Mulch held a hand to his heart in mock affront. ‘I? Certain? I am a dwarf, human. A dwarf nose can tell the difference between grass and clover. Between black hair and brown. Between dog poo and wolf poo.’

Artemis groaned. ‘I shall take that as a yes.’

‘And so you should. Keep this up and I may choose not to marry your sister.’

‘If I had a sister, I’m sure she would be inconsolable.’

They crouched in the hollow for several minutes, the park’s night-time growls and snores drifting down through the clay. By some curious anomaly, once the sounds penetrated the tunnel’s coating of dwarf spittle, they were trapped inside and bounced off the walls in conflicting waves. Artemis felt as though he were literally in the lion’s den.

As if this wasn’t disturbing enough, he noticed that Mulch’s cheeks were glowing bright pink. All of them.

‘Problems?’ he asked, unable to mask a nervous tremor.

‘I’ve been holding in this gas for a long time,’ replied the dwarf through clenched teeth. ‘It’s coming out soon. You got any sinus problems?’

Artemis shook his head.

‘Pity,’ said Mulch. ‘This would have cleared them right up.’

If it wasn’t for Artemis’s determination to save his mother, he would have bolted right then.

Luckily for Artemis’s nasal passages, Holly beeped him on the ad-com. The communicator was a basic vibration model that sent signals directly to Artemis’s ear without any external noise. Artemis heard Holly’s words but not her voice. The ad-com was only sophisticated enough to produce robotic tones.

‘In position. Over.’

Artemis placed a finger on the communicator, completing the circuit that allowed him to speak.

‘Received. We are directly below the target’s cage. Can you see the opposition?’

‘Negative. No visual. But I do see the lemur. He seems to be asleep on a low branch. I can reach him easily.’

‘Negative, Holly. Hold your position. We will secure the target. You watch for my younger self.’

‘Understood. Don’t hang around, Arty. Get up, get down and back to the car.’

Arty?

Artemis was surprised that Holly would call him that. It was his mother’s pet name for him.

‘Got it. Up, down and back.’

Arty?

Mulch tapped him urgently on the shoulder. ‘Whenever you’re ready, Mud Boy. Now would be great.’

‘Very well. Proceed. Try to be quiet.’

Mulch changed position, pointing the crown of his head at the tunnel roof, squatting low on his haunches.

‘Too late for quiet,’ he grunted. ‘Pull your jacket over your face.’

Artemis barely had time to do what he’d been asked when Mulch released a thundering cylinder of gas and earth, spraying the boy with undigested clods. The shell of dwarf spittle cracked in a thousand places and Mulch was borne aloft by a churning pillar of force, easily punching through to the surface.

Once the dust had settled somewhat, Artemis scrambled after him into the cage. Mulch had pinballed off a low ceiling and was unconscious, blood matting his already tangled hair, his bum-flap fluttering like a windsock while the remainder of the tunnel waste escaped.

Low cage ceiling?

The lemur in the next cage seemed highly amused by all the commotion and hopped up and down on a truncated branch wedged between the bars.

The next cage, realized Artemis. We are not in the lemur’s cage. What cage are we in?

Before he could had time to investigate, his cheek beeped and an emotionless robotic voice droned into his ear.

‘Get Mulch out of there, Arty. Get back down now.’

What is it? wondered Artemis. What’s in this cage?

Then a two-hundred-kilo Ugandan mountain gorilla crashed into him, leaving the thought behind like a speech bubble.

Young Artemis and Butler were watching all of this through the slot windows of a camouflaged hide that sat in front of the cages. The hide had been built inside a rockery and water feature and allowed close study of the various animals without disturbing the natural rhythms of their day. The director had been kind enough to let Artemis sit in the observer’s chair earlier that day.

‘Some day you could run the hide’s thermal-imaging camera and all this equipment from that chair,’ he had said.

‘Perhaps sooner than that,’ Artemis had replied.

‘Oh dear,’ said Butler, the phrase sounding over-delicate in his gravelly voice. ‘That must have really hurt.’ He reached into his pocket for the dart gun. ‘I better lend a hand or at least a dart.’

Butler had been busy with his darts. Two night workers lay unconscious on cots at the rear of the hide.

Through the slot window they had a clear view of the male intruder being shaken like a rag doll by an enormous gorilla. The cage’s third occupant had collapsed and appeared to be wracked by an energetic bout of flatulence.

Incredible, thought Artemis. This day is full of surprises.

He tapped a few keys on the computer keyboard before him, redirecting the compound’s thermal-imaging camera.

‘I don’t think a dart will be necessary,’ he said. ‘Help is already on the way.’

Sure enough, a red-hearted glow bounced across the cobbled walkway, hovering before the gorilla cage.

‘Now this should be interesting,’ mused ten-year-old Artemis.

Holly was forced into action. She had been discreetly tucked away behind the broad trunk of an imported baobab tree, shield off, conserving magic, keeping an eye out for young Artemis, when Mulch blew a hole in the earth into the wrong cage. He exploded from the ground in a mini-cyclone of debris, bounced off a few surfaces like a cartoon pinball and collapsed on to the cage floor.

The cage’s resident, a black-and-grey bull gorilla, shot straight up, woken from deep sleep. Its eyes were wide but blurred, its teeth yellow and bared.

Stay down, Artemis, she thought. Stay in the hole.

No such luck. Artemis clambered to the surface, carefully navigating the simple climb. The time stream had not granted him any agility. As Artemis often said, the physical was not his area.

Holly thumbed her ad-com. ‘Get Mulch out of there, Arty,’ she shouted. ‘Get back down now.’

It was too late. The gorilla had decided these newcomers were a threat to be dealt with. It rolled from its nest of leaves and bark, landing on eight knuckles, the impact sending a jarring wave along its arm hair.

Holly buzzed up her shield as she ran, silver strands floating behind her as the wig fell apart, marking her trail.

The gorilla attacked, grabbing a surprised Artemis Fowl by the shoulders, roaring in his face, head back, teeth like a bear trap.

Holly was at the gate, powering down, pulling the Omnitool from her pocket, jabbing the business end into the lock. She surveyed the scene inside the cage while she waited for the tool to work.

Mulch was up and on his elbows now, shaking a groggy head. It would be a moment or two before he was in any shape to help, if he deigned to help a human stranger.

Anyway, it was immaterial: a moment or two would be too late for Artemis.

The Omnitool beeped and the cage door swung open. A narrow walkway extended from the footpath, crossing a moat and slotting into grooves on the habitat floor.

Holly charged across without hesitation, waving her arms, shouting, making herself a target.

The gorilla huffed and snorted, gathering Artemis close to its chest — warning Holly to stay back. Artemis’s head flopped on his shoulders and his eyes were half closed.

Holly stopped three metres from the animal, lowering her arms and gaze. A non-threatening stance.

The gorilla made a few fake attacks, thundering to within half a metre of Holly, then contemptuously turning its back, all the while grunting and barking, pressing Artemis to its chest. Artemis’s hair was slicked back with blood and a crimson trickle leaked from the corner of his left eye. One arm was broken and blood pouched the sleeve of his tracksuit.

Holly was shocked. Appalled. She felt like crying and running away. Her friend was injured, possibly dead.

Get a grip! she told herself. You are older than you look.

One of the fairy magical powers was the gift of tongues and this encompassed a rudimentary grasp of some of the more sophisticated animal tongues. She would never be discussing global warming with a dolphin, but she knew enough for basic communication.

With gorillas it was as much about body language as what was actually said. Holly squatted low, elbows crooked, knuckles on the earth, spine curved forward. The posture of a friend, then funnelled her lips and hooted several times. ‘Danger!’ the hoots said. ‘Danger is near!’

The gorilla did a comical double-take, amazed to hear gorilla-speak coming from this creature. It sensed a trick but was not sure what that trick might be. And, when in doubt, beat your chest.

The gorilla dropped Artemis, stood tall on two feet, thrusting forward chin and pectorals, and began beating its chest with open palms.

I am king here. Do not trifle with me, was the clear message.

A wise sentiment indeed, but Holly had no choice.

She darted forward, hooting all the time, throwing in the odd terrified screech, and then, against the advice of every wildlife expert who ever held a steadi-cam, she looked directly into the animal’s eyes.

‘Leopard,’ she hooted, layering her voice with the fairy mesmer. ‘Leopard!’

The gorilla’s fury was replaced by dull confusion, which was in turn pushed aside by terror.

‘Leopard!’ Holly hooted. ‘Climb!’

Moving with less than its customary grace, the gorilla stumbled towards the rear of the cage, moving as though underwater, senses dulled by the mesmer. Trees and foliage were batted aside, leaving a wake of sap-crowned trunks and flattened grass. In moments, the animal had disappeared deep into the dark recesses of its artificial habitat.

Fearful gibberings floated from the upper canopy.

Holly would feel bad later for putting the beast under a spell, but now there was not a heartbeat to waste on guilt. Artemis was grievously injured, perhaps mortally so.

The gorilla had dropped Artemis like a carcass that had been picked clean. He lay there, still as the dead.

No. Don’t think that.

Holly raced to her friend’s side, skidding the final metre on her knees.

Too far gone. He’s too far gone.

Artemis’s face was pale as bone. His long black hair was matted with blood and the whites of his eyes were twin crescents through hooded lids.

‘Mother,’ he said, the word riding on a breath.

Holly reached out her hands, magic already dancing on her fingertips, shooting off in arcs like tiny sun flares.

She froze before the magic could make the jump to Artemis’s body.

If I heal Artemis, will I also damn him? Is my magic tainted with Spelltropy?

Artemis thrashed weakly and Holly could actually hear bones grating in his sleeve. There was blood on his lips now too.

He will die if I don’t help. At least if I heal him there is a chance.

Holly’s hands were shaking and her eyes were blurred with tears.

Pull yourself together. You are a professional.

She didn’t feel very professional. She felt like a girl out of her depth.

Your body is playing tricks on your mind. Ignore it.

Holly cupped Artemis’s face gently in both hands.

‘Heal,’ she whispered, almost sobbed.

The magical sparks leaped like dogs unleashed, sinking into Artemis’s pores, knitting bones, healing skin, staunching internal bleeding.

The sudden transition from death’s door to hale and hearty was rough on Artemis. He shuddered and bucked, teeth chattering, hair frizzing in an electric halo.

‘Come on, Artemis,’ said Holly, bending over him like a mourner. ‘Wake up.’

There was no reaction for several seconds. Artemis looked like a healthy corpse, but then that was how he usually looked. Then his mismatched eyes opened, lids flickering like hummingbird wings as his system rebooted. He coughed and shuddered, flexing fingers and toes.

‘Holly,’ he said, when his vision cleared. His smile was sincere and grateful. ‘You saved me again.’

Holly was laughing and crying at the same time, tears spilling on to Artemis’s chest.

‘Of course I saved you,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t do without you.’ And because she was happy and flushed with magic Holly leaned down and kissed Artemis, magic sparking around the contact like tiny fireworks.

∗

Ten-year-old Artemis Fowl was keeping one eye on the drama unfolding in the gorilla cage.

‘Troglodytes gorilla,’ he commented to Butler. ‘Given the name by Doctor Thomas S. Savage, an American missionary to western Africa, who first scientifically described the gorilla in 1847.’

‘You don’t say,’ murmured the bodyguard, who was more interested in the brute’s bite radius than its proper name.

They had used the commotion as cover to slip out from the artificial hide and across the small courtyard to the lemur’s cage, which was beside the gorilla’s cage.

The strange newcomers were far too busy to notice them swipe the cage’s key-card lock and open the gate door.

‘Look at those two. Wasting time. You wouldn’t catch me doing that.’

Butler snorted, as he usually did immediately before delivering a deadpan line.

‘Most people never catch you doing anything, Artemis.’

Artemis allowed himself a chuckle. This was an interesting day, and he was enjoying the challenges that it presented.

‘And there we are,’ said Artemis quietly. ‘The last silky sifaka lemur in the world. The hundred-thousand-euro primate.’

The lemur was perched high in a Madagascar palm, clinging to the branches with its long, grasping toes and opposable thumb digits. Its coat was snow white with a brown patch on the chest.

Artemis pointed at the animal. ‘That colouring results from chest scent marking with the sternal-gular gland.’

‘Uh-huh,’ said Butler, who cared slightly less about this than he did about the gorilla’s scientific name. ‘Let’s just get the animal and get out of here before our friends next door regroup.’

‘I think we have a moment or two,’ said Artemis.

Butler studied the strangers in the adjacent cage. It was surprising that the male was not in pieces by now, but somehow the female had appeared from nowhere and chased the gorilla off. Impressive. That one had a few tricks up her sleeve. There was serious technology behind her. Perhaps some kind of camouflage software in the clothing, which could explain the sparks. The Americans, he knew, were developing an all-terrain camouflage suit. One of his military contacts had sent him a link to a leaked video on the Internet.

There was another creature in the cage, the hairy individual who had released the first two from the Bentley, picking what was supposed to be an unpickable lock in the process. The creature was neither man nor beast, a rough stumpy character who had been propelled through the earth by some force and was now suffering from a debilitating attack of gas. Somehow, this thing had managed to dig a thirty-metre tunnel in a matter of minutes. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the cages were modular, with overlapping walls, then the creature would have been in the same cage as the lemur. As it was, while it emerged directly below the lemur, it was one cage over.

Butler knew that Artemis would be just itching to study these strange creatures, but now was not the time. They were in a position of total ignorance and people in that position often died without being enlightened.

The bodyguard drew his dart pistol, but Artemis recognized the sound of a gun sliding from a holster and waved his index finger.

‘That’s our last option. I don’t want our little friend breaking his neck on the way down. First we try gentle persuasion.’

From his pocket Artemis tugged a small ziplock bag containing an amber gel flecked with black and green.

‘My own concoction,’ he explained. ‘The sifakas are from the Indriidae family of primates, which, as you know, is a strictly vegetarian family.’

‘Who wouldn’t know that?’ wondered Butler, who had not exactly put away his pistol.

Artemis unzipped the bag, releasing a sweet, thick aroma that wound its way up towards the lemur.

‘Sap concentrate, with a potpourri of African vegetation. No lemur could resist this. But if this particular primate’s brain is stronger than his stomach, fire away. One shot, if you please, and avoid the head. The needle alone would probably be enough to crack that tiny skull.’

Butler would have snorted, but the lemur was moving. It crawled along the branch, dipping its pointed nose to catch the odour. Touching the smell with a darting pink tongue.

‘Hmm,’ said the bodyguard. ‘That concoction won’t work on humans, I suppose.’

‘Ask me again in six months,’ said Artemis. ‘I am doing some pheromone experiments.’

The lemur scampered forward now, hypnotized by the glorious aroma. When the branch ran out, it dropped to the ground and hopped forward on two legs, fingers outstretched towards the bag.

Artemis grinned. ‘This game is over.’

‘Maybe not,’ said Butler. In the cage beside them, the long-haired boy was on his feet and the female was making a very strange noise.

The corona of magic around fourteen-year-old Artemis and Holly faded, and along with it went the dreamlike trance insulating Artemis’s mind.

He was instantly alert. Holly had kissed him. Artemis back-pedalled, jumping to his feet, spreading his arms wide to counteract the sudden dizziness.

‘Eh, thanks,’ he said awkwardly. ‘That was unexpected.’

Holly smiled, feeling a little embarrassed. ‘Artemis, you’re OK. Any more healings and you’ll be nothing but scar tissue held together by magic thread.’

Artemis thought that it would be nice to stay here and talk like this, but one cage over his future was escaping with his past.

He understood immediately what had happened. Mulch’s nose had led them to the right place, but the cages were built like interlocking blocks and so the lemur had been above them, but also in the next cage. He should have remembered that, if he had been here before. But Artemis had no memory of visiting the central compound. As far as he was aware, the park director had brought the lemur into a special viewing room. This was confusing.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I see where we are …’

He was thinking aloud, steadying his mind, trying to forget the kiss for now. Think about it later.

Artemis rubbed the red sparks from his eyes, then turned as quickly as the post-healing vertigo would allow. There he was, his younger self, enticing the silky sifaka lemur with a bag of amber paste.

Sap, I bet. Perhaps with a few twigs and leaves. Wasn’t I a clever boy?

An immediate solution was needed. A fluid quick-fire plan. Artemis rubbed his eye sockets as if that could sharpen his mind.

‘Mulch, can you tunnel?’

The dwarf opened his mouth to answer, but threw up instead.

‘I dunno,’ he said finally. ‘My head’s a bit flippy-floppy. Stomach too. That bash really shook me.’ His belly made a sound like an outboard motor.‘’ Scuse me. I think I gotta …’

He did indeed gotta. Mulch crawled into a fern patch and let fly with the remainder of his stomach contents. Several leaves wilted on the spot.

No use, thought Artemis. I need a miracle or that lemur is gone and dead.

He grabbed Holly’s shoulders. ‘Do you have any magic left?’

‘A little, Artemis. A few sparks maybe.’

‘Can you talk to the animals?’

Holly twisted her chin to the left until her neck bone clicked, checking the tank.

‘I could do that, anything except trolls. They don’t fall for that trick.’

Artemis nodded, muttering to himself. Thinking.

‘OK. OK. I want you to scare that lemur away from me. The younger me. And I need confusion. Can you do that?’

‘I can try.’

Holly closed her eyes, breathed deeply through her nose, filling her lungs, then threw her head back and howled. It was a fantastic noise. Lions, apes, wolves and eagles. They were all in there. The howl was punctuated by the staccato chatter of monkeys and the hiss of a thousand snakes.

Artemis the elder stepped back, instinctively terrified. Some primal part of his brain interpreted this message as fear and pain. His skin crawled and he had to fight his every instinct not to run and hide.

Artemis the younger reached down to the lemur, dangling the ziplock bag in front of his twitching nose. The lemur laid the pads of its fingers on Artemis’s wrist.

I have him, thought the Irish boy. The money for the expedition is mine.

Then a wall of unholy sound blasted him like a force-ten wind. Young Artemis staggered back, dropping the bag of paste, suddenly irrationally terrified.

Something wants to kill me. But what? Every animal in the world, it sounds like.

The park’s residents were thoroughly spooked too. They screeched and chattered, rattling their cages, hurling themselves against the bars. Monkeys tried repeatedly to leap across the moats surrounding their islands. An eight-hundred-kilo Sumatran rhino charged the heavy doors to its compound, rattling the hinges with each attack. A red wolf snarled and snapped, an Iberian lynx hissed, slashing the air, and a snow leopard chased its tail, flicking its head and mewling anxiously.

Butler could not help but shift his focus.

‘It’s the female creature,’ he stated. ‘Making some kind of sound. It’s riling these animals up. I’m a bit disturbed myself.’

Artemis did not take his gaze from the lemur. ‘You know what to do,’ he said.

Butler knew. If there is an obstacle preventing the completion of a mission, remove the obstacle. He strode quickly to the bars, poked the pistol’s muzzle through the mesh and put a dart into the female’s shoulder.

She stumbled backwards, her fantastic orchestra of animal sounds squawking to a halt.

Butler felt a shudder of guilt, which almost caused him to misstep on his way to Artemis’s side. Twice now he had tranked this girl, or whatever she was, without having any idea what the chemicals were doing to her non-human system. His only consolation was that he had loaded small-dosage darts as soon as he had secured the night watchman. She shouldn’t be out too long. A few minutes tops.

The lemur was spooked now. Tiny hands tickling the space before him. The sap cocktail was tempting, but there was danger here of the worst kind and the urge to live was overriding the desire for a tasty treat.

‘No,’ said Artemis, seeing fear cloud the creature’s eyes. ‘It’s not real. There is no danger.’

The little simian was not convinced, as if it could read the boy’s intention in the sharp angles of his face.

The silky sifaka squeaked once, as though pin-pricked, then scampered along Artemis’s arm, over his shoulder and out through the cage door.

Butler lunged for the tail, but missed by a hair. He closed his fingers into a fist.

‘Perhaps it’s time to admit defeat on this one. We are dangerously unprepared and our adversaries have… abilities we know nothing about.’

His charge’s reply was to hurry after the lemur.

‘Artemis, wait,’ sighed Butler. ‘If we must proceed, then I will take the lead.’

‘They want the lemur,’ Artemis panted as he ran. ‘And so it becomes more valuable than it was. When we catch the animal, then we are in a position of power.’

Catching the animal was easier said than done. The lemur was incredibly agile and found purchase on the smoothest of surfaces. It darted without a wobble along a metal railing, leaping three metres to the lower branches of a potted palm and from there jumping to the compound wall.

‘Shoot!’ hissed Artemis.

It occurred to Butler briefly that he did not care for Artemis’s expression — almost cruel, his brow creased where a ten-year-old’s brow should not have creases — but he would worry about that later; for now he had an animal to sedate.

Butler was quick but the silky sifaka was quicker. In a flash of fur it scaled the wall and dropped outside into the night, leaving a blurred white jet stream in its wake.

‘Wow,’ said Butler, almost in admiration. ‘That was fast.’

Artemis was not impressed by his bodyguard’s choice of words. ‘Wow? I think this merits more than a wow. Our quarry has escaped and with it the funds for my Arctic expedition.’

At this point Butler was fast losing interest in the lemur. There were other less ignoble ways to raise funds. Butler shuddered to think of the ribbing he would have to endure if an account of this night somehow made it to Farmer’s Bar in LA, which was owned by one ex-blue-diamond bodyguard and frequented by many more.

But, in spite of his distaste for the mission, Butler’s sense of loyalty forced him to share a fact that the park director had mentioned earlier when Artemis was busy studying the alarm system.

‘There is something that I know, which you may not know,’ he said archly.

Artemis was not in the mood for games. ‘Oh, really. And what would that be?’

‘Lemurs are tree creatures,’ replied Butler. ‘That little guy is spooked and he’s going to climb the biggest tree he can find, even if it isn’t actually a tree. If you see what I mean.’

Artemis saw immediately, which wasn’t difficult as the huge structures cast a lattice of moon shadows over the entire compound.

‘Of course, old friend,’ he said, his frown crease disappearing. ‘The pylons.’

Things were going disastrously wrong for Artemis the elder. Mulch was injured, Holly was unconscious again- feet sticking out of the dwarf’s hole — and he himself was fast running out of ideas. The deafening clamour of a hundred endangered species going berserk was not helping his concentration.

The animals are going ape, he thought. Then: What a time to develop a sense of humour.

All he could do was prioritize.

I need to get Holly out of here, he realized. That is the most important thing.

Mulch moaned, rolling on to his back, and Artemis saw that there was a bleeding gash on his forehead.

He stumbled to the dwarf’s side. ‘I imagine you’re in great pain,’ he said. ‘It’s to be expected with such a laceration.’ Bedside manner was not one of Artemis’s strong suits. ‘You will have a rather large scar, but then looks are not really important to you.’

Mulch squinted at Artemis through a narrowed eye. ‘Are you trying to be funny? Oh, my God, you’re not. That was actually the nicest thing you could think of to say.’

He dabbed at his bloody forehead with a finger. ‘Ow. That hurts.’

‘Of course.’

‘I will have to seal it. You know all about this dwarf talent, I suppose.’

‘Naturally,’ said Artemis, keeping a straight face. ‘I’ve seen it a dozen times.’

‘I doubt it,’ grunted Mulch, plucking a wiggling beard hair from his chin. ‘But I don’t have much choice, now do I? With the LEP elf in dreamland, I won’t be getting any magical help from that quarter.’

Artemis heard a rustling in the undergrowth at the rear of the cage. ‘You’d better hurry it up. I think the gorilla is overcoming its fear of fairies.’

Wincing, Mulch introduced the beard hair to his gash. It took off like a tadpole, poking through the skin, stitching the flaps together. Though he groaned and shuddered, Mulch managed to stay conscious.

When the hair had finished its work, and the wound was tied up tighter than a fly in a ball of spider’s web, Mulch spat on his hand and rubbed the gooey mess on to the wound.

‘All sealed,’ he proclaimed, then upon seeing the glint in Artemis’s eye: ‘Don’t get any ideas, Mud Boy. This only works on dwarfs, and, what’s more, my beard hair only works on me. You poke one of my lovelies into your skin and all you’ll get is an infection.’

The rustling in the undergrowth grew louder, and Artemis Fowl decided to forego further information, which was almost unheard of for him.

‘Time we were off. Can you seal the tunnel behind us?’

‘I can bring the whole lot down easy as pie. You’d better take the lead though, there are better ways to go than being buried alive in… shall we say, recyclings. Need I say more?’

There was no need to say another syllable. Artemis jumped into the hole, grabbed Holly’s shoulders and began dragging her down the tunnel, past the blobs of luminous spittle towards the proverbial light at the end. It was like travelling through space towards the Milky Way.

The sounds of his own body were amplified. Gulping breath, drumming heartbeat, the bend and creak of muscle and sinew.

Holly rolled along easily, her suit hissing on the rough surface like a nest of vipers. Or maybe there were snakes down here, the way Artemis’s luck was going.

I am trying to do something good for a change, he reminded himself. And this is how the Fates reward me. A life of crime was infinitely easier.

Surface noise was amplified by the tunnel’s acoustics. The gorilla sounded furious now. Artemis could hear the slap of fists on chest and an enraged huffing.

He realizes he has been tricked.

His theorizing was cut short by Mulch’s appearance in the tunnel, the spittle bandage on his forehead casting a zombie glow on his face.

‘Gorilla coming,’ he said as he gulped down lungfuls of air. ‘Gotta go.’

Artemis heard twin thumps as the gorilla landed on the tunnel floor. The huge simian roared a challenge down the hole and the noise grew in ferocity with every metre it travelled.

Holly moaned and Artemis pulled harder on her shoulders.

Mulch sucked down air as fast as he could, bundling Artemis and Holly deeper into the tunnel. Twenty metres to go. They would never make it. The gorilla was advancing, pulverizing each spittle lantern as he passed it, roaring with bloodlust. Artemis swore he saw a flash of teeth.

The tunnel seemed to shudder with each blow. Large sections collapsed. Mud and rock clattered down on Artemis’s head and shoulders. Dirt pooled in Holly’s eye sockets.

Mulch’s cheeks ballooned and he opened his lips the merest fraction to speak. ‘OK,’ he said in a helium voice. ‘The tank is full.’

The dwarf gathered Artemis and Holly in his burly Popeye arms and vented every bubble of air in his body. The resulting jet stream propelled the group down the length of the tunnel. The trip was short, jarring and confusing. The breath was driven from Artemis’s lungs and his fingers were stretched to cracking, but he would not let go of Holly.

He could not let her die.

The unfortunate gorilla was blown head-over-rump by the windstorm, yanked back up the tunnel as though tethered to an elastic cable. It whooped as it went, digging its fingers into the tunnel wall.

Artemis, Holly and Mulch popped from the tunnel mouth, bouncing and skittering along the ditch in a tangle of limbs and torsos. The stars above them were speed-streaked and the moon was a smear of yellow light.

An old famine wall halted their progress, crumbling under the impact of three bodies.

‘For more than a hundred and fifty years this wall stood,’ coughed Artemis. ‘Then we come along.’

He lay on his back feeling thoroughly defeated. His mother would die and Holly would soon hate him when she worked out the truth.

All is lost. I have no idea what to do.

Then one of the notorious Rathdown pylons sharpened in his vision — more specifically, the figures clambering along its service ladder.

The lemur has escaped, thought Artemis, and is climbing as high as it can.

A reprieve. There was still a chance.

What I need to save this situation is a full LEP surveillance and assault kit. Perhaps I will have Number One send one back for me.

Artemis disentangled himself from the others and decided that underneath the pillar’s cornerstone would be a secure spot. He pulled off the remaining stones stacked on top, wiggled his fingers under the final boulder and heaved. It came away easily, revealing nothing but worms and damp earth. No package from the future; for whatever reason, that particular trick would only work once.

So. No help. I must make do with what is available.

Artemis returned to where Holly and Mulch lay. Both were moaning.

‘I think I split a gut getting rid of that wind,’ said Mulch. ‘There was a bit too much fear in the mix.’

Artemis’s nose wrinkled. ‘Will you be OK?’

‘Give me a minute and I’ll be plenty strong enough to carry that huge amount of gold you promised me.’

Holly was groggy. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to pull herself out of it and her arms flopped like fish out of water. Artemis did a quick pulse and temperature check. Slight fever but steady heartbeat. Holly was recovering, but it would be several minutes before she could control her mind or body.

I must do this on my own, Artemis realized. No Holly, no Butler.

Just Artemis versus Artemis.

And perhaps an Omnitool, he thought, reaching into Holly’s pocket.

The Rathdown electricity pylons had been featured in Irish news headlines several times since their erection. Environmentalists protested vehemently that the appearance of the gigantic pylons blighted an otherwise beautiful valley, not to mention the possible detrimental effect the uninsulated power lines could have on the health of anyone or anything living below their arcs. The national electricity board had countered these arguments by pleading that the lines were too high to harm anything and that constructing smaller pylons around the valley would blight ten times more land.

And so a half a dozen of these metal giants bridged Rathdown Valley, reaching a height of one hundred metres at their zenith. The pylon bases were often ringed by protesters, so much so that the power company had taken to servicing the lines by helicopter.

On this night, as Artemis raced across the moonlit meadow, kicking up diamond dewdrops, there were no protesters ringing the pylons, but they had planted their signs like moon flags. Artemis slalomed through this obstacle course while simultaneously craning his neck to track the figures above.

The lemur was on the wire now, silhouetted by the moon, scampering easily along the metal cable, while Artemis the younger and Butler were stranded on the small platform at the pylon’s base, unable to venture any further.

Finally, thought Artemis, a stroke or two of luck.

Stroke one was that the lemur was suddenly up for grabs. Stroke the second was that while his young nemesis had chosen to follow the silky sifaka directly up the pylon the animal was scaling, he himself could go up the adjacent pole, which just happened to be the service pylon.

Artemis reached the pylon’s base, which was secured by a cage. The heavy padlock submitted instantly to a quick jab from the Omnitool, as did the steel equipment locker. Inside were various tools, walkie-talkies and a Faraday suit. Artemis tugged on the heavy overalls, wiggling his fingers into the attached gloves, tucking his long hair inside the hood. The flame-retardant and steel-thread suit had to enclose him completely to act as a protective Faraday cage. Otherwise he could not venture out on the wires without being burned to a criminal-mastermind cinder.

More luck. An elevator platform ran up the side of the pylon. It was locked and key-coded. But locks quailed when faced with an Omnitool, and a key code was of little value when it was a simple matter to unscrew the control panel and activate the pulley manually.

Artemis held tight to the safety rail as the tiny elevator shuddered and whined its way into the night sky. The valley spread out below him as he rose and a westerly wind crept over the hills, tugging a strand of hair from his hood. Artemis gazed north, and for a fanciful moment imagined he could see the lights of Fowl Manor.

Mother is there, he thought. Unwell now and unwell in the future. Perhaps I can just talk to my younger self. Explain the situation.

This thought was even more fanciful than the last. Artemis had no illusions about what he had been like at the age of ten. He had trusted no one completely but himself. Not his parents, not even Butler. At the first mention of time travel, his younger self would have his bodyguard shoot a dart first and ask questions later. A lot of questions and at great length. There was no time for explanations and debate. This battle would have to be won by wits and guile.

The elevator grated into its brackets at the top of the pylon. A skull and crossbones sign was riveted to the tall safety gate. Even if Artemis had not been a genius the sign would have been difficult to misinterpret, and just in case a total idiot did manage to scale the pylon there was a second sign depicting a cartoon man being zapped by electricity from a cartoon pylon. The man’s skeleton was clearly visible, X-ray style.

Apparently electricity is dangerous, Artemis might have commented had Butler been by his side.

There was yet another lock on the safety gate, which delayed Artemis about as long as the first two. Outside the safety gate was a small platform covered with wire mesh, with twin power lines humming directly beneath.

There are half a million volts running through those lines, thought Artemis. I do hope there are no rips in this suit.

Artemis squatted low, peering along the line. The lemur had paused halfway between the two pylons and was chattering to itself as if weighing up its options. Luckily for the small creature, it was only touching one line, so no current flowed through its body. If it put so much as a toe on the second line the shock would spin it thirty metres into the air and it would be stone dead before it stopped revolving.

On the far pylon, Artemis the younger scowled at the animal, while simultaneously trying to tempt it back with his bag of paste.

There is nothing to do but go out on the wires and bring the lemur back yourself.

The hot suit was equipped for moving across the wires. There was a safety cord wrapped round his waist and a lightning rod in a long pocket on his thigh. Below the platform was a small sledge on insulated runners that the engineers used to hand-crank themselves between pylons.

Brains count for little now, he realized. What I need is balance.

Artemis groaned. Balance was not his forte.

Taking a deep breath, he crouched low, drawing the lightning rod from his pocket. Almost as soon as it cleared the material, jets of white-hot sparks jumped from the power lines connecting with the tip of the rod. The stream buzzed and hissed like a neon snake.

You are equalizing voltage, that’s all. The electricity cannot hurt you.

Perhaps not, but Artemis could already feel the hair standing on his neck. Was that anxiety, or were a couple of volts sneaking in somewhere?

Don’t be absurd. If there is a hole, all the volts will worm inside, not just a couple.

Artemis was vaguely familiar with the technique for wire-walking, as the national broadcasting service had done a news special on the high-wire daredevils who risked their lives to keep the lights of Dublin burning. It wasn’t so much wire-walking as wire-crawling. The cables were extremely taut and the maintenance engineers clipped on their safety lines, lay on the sledge, then turned the winch until they reached the maintenance site.

Simple. In theory. For a professional on a calm morning.

Not so easy for an amateur in the dead of night with only the stars and the ambient light of nearby Dublin to guide him.

Artemis sheathed his lightning rod and gingerly clipped his safety line to one of the cables.

He held his breath, as though that could possibly make a difference, and laid his gloved hands on the metal sledge.

Still alive. A good start.

Artemis inched forward, the metal warm under his clumsy gloved hands, until he was lying flat on the sledge with the double-handled winch in front of his face. It was a delicate manoeuvre and would have been impossible had the cables not been tethered together at regular intervals. He began to twist and almost immediately the strain on his arms was tremendous as he moved his own body weight.

The gym. Butler, you were right. I’ll do weights, anything, just get me off these cables with that lemur under my arm.

Artemis slid forward, feeling the runners scrape the rough metal of the cables, their intense hum setting his teeth on edge and sending constant shivers coursing along his arched spine. The wind was low but still threatened to topple him from his lofty perch and the ground seemed like another planet. Distant and uninviting.

Ten metres later his arms ached and he was noticed by the opposition.

A voice floated across from the other pylon. ‘I advise you to stay where you are, young man. If that suit has the tiniest rip, then one slip and those cables will liquefy your skin and melt your bones.’

Artemis scowled. Young man? Had he really been so obnoxious? So patronizing?

‘It would take less than a second for you to die,’ continued ten-year-old Artemis. ‘But that’s quite long enough to be in mortal agony, don’t you think? And all for nothing, as the lemur will obviously return for this treat.’

Yes, he had been smug as well as obnoxious and patronizing.

Artemis chose not to reply, concentrating his energy on staying alive and enticing the silky sifaka towards him. From his considerable reservoir of knowledge on just about everything, Artemis plucked the fact that smaller simians were comforted by a purring noise. Thank you, Jane Goodall.

So he began to purr, much to the amusement of his younger self.

‘Listen, Butler. There’s a cat on the wire. A big tom, I would say. Perhaps you should throw him a fish.’

But the mocking tone was undercut with tension. Young Artemis knew exactly what was going on.

More purring and it seemed to be working: the ghostly sifaka took a few cautious steps towards the elder Artemis, his beady black eyes glittering with starlight and perhaps curiosity.

Holly would be proud. I am talking to an animal.

Even as he purred, Artemis winced at how ludicrous the situation had become. It was a typical Fowlesque melodrama. Two parties hunting for a lemur on the highest power lines in Ireland.

Artemis looked along the dip of the lines across to the other pylon, where Butler stood, jacket tail flapping around his thighs. The bodyguard leaned into the wind, and the intensity of his stare seemed to pierce the darkness, honing in on Artemis the elder like a laser.

I miss my bodyguard, thought Artemis.

The lemur scampered closer, encouraged by the purring and perhaps fooled by the steel-grey hot suit.

That’s right. I am another lemur.

Artemis’s arms were shaking from the strain of turning the handles at such an awkward angle. Every muscle in his body was stretched to its limit, including several he had never used before. His head was dizzy from keeping his balance.

All this and animal impersonations too.

One metre now. That was the distance between Artemis and the lemur. There were no more taunts from the other side. Artemis glanced across and found his nemesis had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply. Trying to come up with a plan.

The lemur jumped on to the sledge and touched Artemis’s gloved hand tentatively. Contact. Artemis stayed stock still, apart from his lips, which burbled out a comforting purr.

That’s it, little fellow. Climb on to my arm.

Artemis looked into the lemur’s eyes and for perhaps the first time realized that it had emotions. There was fear in those eyes, but also a mischievous confidence.

How could I have sold you to those madmen? he wondered.

The lemur suddenly committed itself, scampering on to Artemis’s shoulder. It seemed content to sit there while Artemis ferried it back to the service pylon.

As Artemis retreated, he kept his eye fixed on his younger self. He would never simply accept defeat like this. Neither of them would. Young Artemis’s eyes suddenly snapped open and met his nemesis’s stare.

‘Shoot the animal,’ he said coldly.

Butler was surprised. ‘Shoot the monkey.’

‘It’s a… never mind. Just shoot it. The man is protected by his suit, but the lemur is an easy target.’

‘But the fall …’

‘If it dies, it dies. I will not be thwarted here, Butler. If I cannot have that lemur, then no one will have it.’

Butler frowned. Killing animals was not in his job description, but he knew from experience that there was no point in arguing with the young master. At any rate, it was a bit late to protest now, perched atop a pylon. He should have spoken up more forcefully earlier.

‘Whenever you’re ready, Butler. The target is not getting any closer.’

Out on the cables, Artemis the elder could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Butler had drawn his pistol and was climbing over the rails to get a better shot.

Artemis had not intended to speak, as interaction with his younger self could have serious repercussions for the future, but the words were out before he could stop them.

‘Stay back. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.’

Oh, the irony.

‘Ah, he speaks,’ called young Artemis across the abyss. ‘How fortunate that we can understand each other. Well, understand this, stranger. I will have that silky sifaka or it will die. Make no mistake.’

‘You must not do this. There’s too much at stake.’

‘I must do it. I have no choice. Now send the animal over, or Butler will shoot.’

Through all of this, the lemur sat perched on fourteen-year-old Artemis’s head, scratching the stitching of his hood.

So the two boys who were one boy, locked eyes for a long tense moment.

I would have done it, thought Artemis the elder, shocked by the cruel determination in his own blue eyes.

And so he gingerly reached up one hand and plucked the silky sifaka from his head.

‘You have to go back,’ he said softly. ‘Go back for the nice treat. And, if I were you, I’d stick close to the big human. The little one isn’t very nice.’

The lemur reached out and tweaked Artemis’s nose, much as Beckett might have done, then turned and trotted along the cable towards Butler, nose sniffing the air, nostrils flaring as they located the sweet scent of Artemis’s goodie bag.

In a matter of seconds it sat curled in the crook of young Artemis’s elbow, contentedly dipping its long fingers into the sap. The young boy’s face glowed with victory.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘I think it best that you stay exactly where you are until we leave. I think fifteen minutes should be fine. After that, I advise you to be on your way and count yourself fortunate that I did not have Butler sedate you. Remember the pain that you are feeling now. The ache of utter defeat and hopelessness. And, if you ever consider crossing swords with me again, review your memory of this pain, and perhaps you will think twice.’

Artemis the elder was forced to watch as Butler stuffed the lemur into a duffel bag, and boy and bodyguard commenced their climb down the service ladder. Several minutes later, the Bentley’s headlights scythed the darkness as the car pulled away from Rathdown Park and on to the motorway. Straight to the airport, no doubt.

Artemis reached up and gripped the winch handles. He was not beaten yet, far from it. He intended to cross swords with his ten-year-old self again just as soon as he possibly could. If anything, the boy’s mocking speech had fuelled his determination.

Remember the pain? thought Artemis. I hate myself. I really do.