Eoin Colfer - Artemis Fowl - the time paradox

He collapsed the scooter into a Frisbee-sized disc and climbed down through the roof hatch.

Mulch Diggums was idly swivelling himself in the pilot’s chair.

‘That’s my scooter, Mud Boy,’ he said. ‘That came off the trolley, so I take it with me.’

Artemis shut the hatch behind him. ‘Where’s the lemur? Where’s Jayjay?’

Mulch answered these questions with some of his own. ‘Where’s Holly? Have you lost her?’

‘Yes,’ Artemis admitted miserably. ‘The boy outwitted me. He knew we would come for the lemur. He sacrificed it for Holly.’

‘Smart,’ said Mulch. ‘Anyway, I’m off. See you …’

‘See you? See you? One of your fairy comrades is in danger and you’re just going to desert her?’

Mulch raised his palms. ‘Hey, calm down, Mud Boy. The LEP are not my comrades. We had a deal; I get you the little furry fellow and you get me a trolley of LEP tech goodies. Job done, both parties happy.’

At that moment, Jayjay poked his head round the bathroom door.

‘What’s he doing in there?’

Mulch grinned. ‘Take two guesses.’

‘Lemurs cannot use advanced plumbing.’

‘See for yourself. Whatever’s in there, I’m blaming Jayjay.’

He clicked his furry fingers and the lemur ran along his arm, on to his head.

‘See. He accepts responsibility.’ Mulch frowned. ‘You’re not going to trade this fellow for Captain Short, are you?’

‘No point,’ said Artemis, acccessing the LEP central database. ‘It would be like trying to trade a hairpin for Excalibur.’

Mulch chewed his lip. ‘I’m familiar with the Excalibur story, so I know what you’re trying to say there. A hairpin is useless, Excalibur is wonderful, and so on. But in some instances a hairpin is extremely useful. Now, if you had said a rubber hairpin. Do you see what I’m getting at?

Artemis ignored him, tapping furiously at the v-board that had appeared in front of him. He needed to know everything he could about the Extinctionists and Foaly had an extensive file on them.

Mulch ticked Jayjay under the chin. ‘I was getting pretty fond of Captain Short, against my better judgement. I suppose I could dig in and rescue her.’

This was a genuine offer and a fair point, so Artemis spared a moment to address it.

‘Not possible. Kronski has seen the tunnel rescue before and he won’t fall for it again. At any rate, you wouldn’t survive the temperature during the day. Even underground you wouldn’t be safe. The earth is so dry that cracks can penetrate up to fifteen metres in open ground. One pinprick of midday sun and you would crisp like an old book in a furnace.’

Mulch winced. ‘Now, you see, that image works really well. So what are you going to do?’

Artemis used the advanced fairy technology to print off a leopard-print card with an Extinctionists’ hologram flashing silver and purple in the centre.

‘I’m going to the Extinctionists’ banquet tonight,’ he said, flicking the card with his forefinger. ‘After all, I have been invited. All I need is a disguise and some medical supplies.’

Mulch was impressed. ‘That’s very good. You’re almost as devious as I am.’

Artemis turned back to the v-board. It would take time to firm up his cover.

‘You have no idea,’ he said.

The night of the Extinctionists’ banquet was upon him and Kronski’s nerves were frazzled. He danced around his chalet wearing nothing but a bath towel, anxiously humming his way through the tunes from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Kronski often dreamed that he was wearing the Technicolor coat and it was fashioned from the pelts of all the animals he had hunted to extinction. He always awoke smiling.

Everything has to be perfect. This is the biggest night of my life. Thank you, little Ah-temis.

There was a lot riding on this conference, and the banquet generally set the tone for the entire weekend. Pull off something big at the banquet trial and the members would be buzzing about it for days. The Internet would be alive with chatter.

And it doesn’t get any bigger than a brand-new sentient species. The Extinctionists are about to go global.

And just in time. Truth be told, the Extinctionists were old news. Subscriptions were dropping off and, for the first time since its inception, the conference was not a total sellout. In the beginning it had been wonderful — so many exciting species to hunt and nail to the wall. But now countries were protecting their rare animals, especially the big ones. There was no flying into India for a tiger shoot any more. And the sub-Saharan nations took it extremely badly if a group of well-armed Extinctionists showed up at one of their reserves and began taking pot shots at elephants. It was getting to the point where government officials were refusing bribes. Refusing bribes.

There was another problem with the Extinctionists, though Kronski would never admit it aloud. The group had become a touchstone for the lunatic fringe. His heartfelt hatred for the animal kingdom was attracting bloodthirsty crazies who could not see past putting a bullet in a dumb beast. They could not grasp the philosophy of the organization. Man is king, and animals survive only so long as they contribute to the comfort of their masters. An animal without uses is wasting precious air and should be wiped out.

But this new creature changed everything. Everyone would want to see her. They would film the entire trial and execution, leak the tape and then the world would come to Damon Kronski.

One year of donations, thought Kronski. Then I retire to enjoy my wealth.

Five million. This fairy, or whatever it is, is worth ten times that. A hundred times.

Kronski jiggled in front of the air-conditioner blast for a minute then selected a suit from his wardrobe.

Purple, he thought. Tonight I shall be emperor.

As an afterthought he plucked a matching tasselled Caspian tiger-skin hat from an upper shelf.

When in Fez, he thought brightly.

Ten-year-old Artemis Fowl tried his best to relax in one of the Learjet’s plush leather chairs, but there was a tension knot at the base of his skull.

I need a massage, he thought. Or some herbal tea.

Artemis was perfectly aware what was causing the tension.

I have sold a creature… a person to the Extinctionists.

Being as smart as he was, Artemis was perfectly capable of constructing an argument to justify his actions.

Her friends will free her. They almost outsmarted me; they can certainly outsmart Kronski. That fairy creature is probably on her way back to wherever she came from right now, with the lemur under her arm.

Artemis distracted himself from this shaky reasoning by concentrating on Kronski.

Something really should be done about that man.

A titanium Powerbook hummed gently on Artemis’s fold-out tray. He woke the screen and opened his personal Internet browser program that he had written as a school project. Thanks to a powerful and illegal antenna in the jet’s cargo bay he was able to pick up radio, television and Internet signals almost anywhere in the world.

Organizations like the Extinctionists live and die on their reputations, he thought. It would be an amusing exercise to destroy Kronski’s reputation using the power of the web.

All it would take was some research and the placement of a little video on a few of the Net’s more popular networking sites.

Twenty minutes later, Artemis Junior was putting the finishing touches to his project when Butler ducked through the cockpit door.