Eoin Colfer - Artemis Fowl. The Opal Deception

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Criminal mastermind Artemis Fowl is back… and so is his cunning enemy from Artemis Fowl: The Arctic Incident, Opal Koboi. At the start of fourth adventure. Artemis has returned to his unlawful ways. He's in Berlin, preparing to steal a famous impressionist painting from a German bank. He has no idea that his old rival, Opal, has escaped from prison by cloning herself. She's left her double behind in jail and, now free, is exacting her revenge on all those who put her there, including Artemis.

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She opened the throttles wide, ignoring safety regulations. After all, who cared if she scorched the shuttle’s hull? It was about to get a lot more than just scorched. The pod streaked towards the surface at over five hundred miles per hour. Pretty fast, but not fast enough to completely escape the shockwave from the two shaped charges.

The stealth shuttle exploded in a flash of multicoloured light. Holly pulled the LEP shuttle close to the wall, to avoid falling debris. After the shockwaves had passed, the shuttle’s occupants waited in silence for the computer to run a scan on the stretch of chute above them. Eventually three red dots appeared on the three-dimensional representation of the chute. Two were static, while the other was moving rapidly towards the surface.

‘They made it,’ sighed Artemis. ‘I have no doubt that the moving dot is Opal. We should pick her up.’

‘We should,’ said Holly, not looking as happy as one might have expected. ‘But we won’t.’

Artemis picked up on Holly’s tone. ‘Why not? What’s wrong?’

‘That’s wrong,’ said Holly, pointing to the screen. Two more dots had appeared on the screen and were moving towards them at extreme speed. The computer identified the dots as missiles, then quickly ran a match in its database.

‘Heat-seeking plasma rockets. Locked on to our engines.’

Mulch shook his head. ‘That Koboi is a bitter little pixie. She couldn’t let it go.’

Artemis stared at the screen, as if he could destroy the missiles through concentration. ‘I should have anticipated this.’

Butler poked his massive head past his charge’s shoulders. ‘Do you have any hot waffle to draw the missiles away?’

‘This is a transport shuttle,’ replied Holly. ‘We were lucky to have shields.’

‘The missiles are coming after our heat signature?’

‘Yes,’ said Holly, hoping there was an idea on the way.

‘Is there any way to significantly alter that signature?’

An option occurred to Holly then. It was so extreme that she didn’t bother running it past the shuttle’s other occupants.

‘There is one way,’ she said, and turned off the engines.

The shuttle dropped like a rock through the chute. Holly tried to manoeuvre using the flaps, but without propulsion it was like trying to steer an anchor.

There was no time for fear or panic. There was only time to hang on to something and try to keep your last meal inside your body.

Holly gritted her teeth, swallowing the panic that was trying to claw its way out, as she fought the steering wheel. If she could keep the flaps centred, then they shouldn’t collide with the chute walls. At least this way they had a chance.

She flicked her eyes towards the readouts. The core temperature of the craft was dropping, but would it be quick enough? This section of the chute was reasonably straight, but there was a kink coming up in thirty miles and they would crash into it like a fly hitting an elephant.

Butler crawled up towards the rear of the ship. On the way he snagged two fire extinguishers and popped their pins. He tossed the extinguishers into the engine room and closed the door. Through the hatch he could see the extinguishers cartwheeling, covering the engine with freezing foam.

The engine temperature dropped another notch.

The missiles were closer now, and gaining.

Holly opened all the vents wide, flooding the shuttle with cool air. Another notch towards green on the temperature readout.

‘Come on,’ she said through rippling lips. ‘A few more degrees.’

They hurtled down and down, spinning into blackness. Little by little the ship was drifting to starboard. Soon it would smash into the kink that rose to meet them. Holly’s finger hovered over the ignition. She would wait until the last possible moment.

The engines cooled even further. They were efficient energy-saving units. When they were not in use, they quickly funnelled excess heat to the life-support batteries.

But still the missiles held their course.

The kink in the chute wall appeared in their headlights. It was bigger than an average mountain and was composed of hard, unforgiving rock. If the shuttle impacted, it would crumple like a tin can.

Artemis squeezed words from between his lips. ‘Not working. Engines.’

‘Wait,’Holly replied.

The flaps were vibrating now, and the shuttle went into a tumble. They could see the heat-seekers roaring up behind them, which were now in front of them, then behind them again.

They were close to the rock now. Too close. If Holly delayed just one more second, she would not have sufficient room to manoeuvre. She punched the ignition, veering to port at the last millisecond. The bow plates sent up an arc of sparks as they scraped along the rocky outcrop. Then they were free, zooming into the black void. That is, if you count being pursued by two heat-seekers as being free.

The engine temperature was still dropping and would be for maybe half a minute while the turbines heated up. Would it be enough? Holly punched the rear camera view up on the front screen. The rockets were still coming. Unrelenting. Purple fuel burning in their wake. Three seconds to impact. Then two. Then they lost contact, veering away from their target. One went over the top, the other under the keel.

‘It worked,’ sighed Artemis, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

‘Well done, soldier,’ grinned Butler, ruffling Holly’s hair.

Mulch poked his head through from the passenger area. His face was slightly green. ‘I had a little accident,’ he said. No one enquired further.

‘Let’s not celebrate just yet,’ said Holly, checking her instruments. ‘Those missiles should have detonated against the chute wall, but they didn’t. I can think of only one reason why they wouldn’t keep travelling in a straight line.’

‘If they acquired another target,’ offered Butler.

A red dot appeared on the plasma screen. The two missiles were heading directly for it.

‘Exactly. That’s an LEP supersonic attack shuttle, and, as far as they’re concerned, we’ve just opened fire on them.’

Major Trouble Kelp was behind the wheel of the LEP attack shuttle. The craft was travelling at over three times the speed of sound, booming along the chute like a silver needle. Supersonic flights were very rarely cleared, as they could cause cave-ins and, in rare cases, be detected by human seismographic equipment.

The shuttle’s interior was filled with impact-gel to dampen the otherwise bone-breaking vibration. Major Kelp was suspended in the gel in a modified pilot’s suit. The ship’s controls were connected directly to his gloves, and the video ran into his helmet.

Foaly was in constant contact from Police Plaza.

‘Be advised that the stolen shuttle is back in the chute,’ he informed Trouble. ‘It’s hovering at one twenty-four miles.’

‘I have it,’ said Trouble, locating the dot on his radar. He felt his heart race. There was a chance that Holly was alive, and aboard that shuttle. And if that were true, he would do whatever it took to bring her home safely.

A sunburst of white, yellow and orange flared on his scopes.

‘We have an explosion of some kind. Was it the stolen shuttle?’

‘No, Trouble. It came from nowhere. There was nothing there. Watch out for debris.’

The screen was streaked with dozens of jagged yellow lines as hot metal shards plummeted towards the centre of the Earth. Trouble activated the nose lasers, ready for anything that might head his way. It was unlikely that his vessel would be threatened — the chute was wider than the average city at this depth. The debris from the explosion would not spread more than a mile. He had plenty of room to steer himself out of harm’s way.

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