Artemis Fowl - Colfer Eoin - Страница 7

'How come you LEP guys get to go topside? What's so special about you?'

Holly breathed deeply through her nose. Courtesy at all times.

'Police business, sir. Now if you could just excuse me.'

The gnome scratched his massive behind. 'I hear you LEP guys make up your police business just to get a look at some moonlight.

That's what I hear.'

Holly attempted an amused smile. What actually formed on her lips resembled a lemon-sucking grimace.

'Whoever told you that is an idiot…sir. Recon venture only above ground when absolutely necessary.'

The gnome frowned. Obviously he had made up the rumour himself and suspected that Holly might have just called him an idiot.

By the time he'd figured it out, she had skipped through the double doors.

Foaly was waiting for her in Ops. Foaly was a paranoid centaur, convinced that human intelligence agencies were monitoring his transport and surveillance network. To prevent them reading his mind, he wore a tinfoil hat at all times.

He glanced up sharply when Holly entered through the pneumatic double doors.

'Anybody see you come in here?'

Holly thought about it.

'The FBI, CIA, NSA, DEA, MI6. Oh and the EIB.'

Foaly frowned. 'The EIB?'

'Everyone in the building,' smirked Holly.

Foaly rose from his swivel chair and clip-clopped over to her.

'Oh, you're very funny, Short. A regular riot. I thought the

Hamburg affair might have knocked some of the cockiness out of you.

If I were you, I'd concentrate on the job in hand.'

Holly composed herself. He was right.

'OK, Foaly. Fill me in.'

The centaur pointed to a live feed from the Eurosat, which was displayed on a large plasma screen.

'This red dot is the troll. He's moving towards Martina Franca, a fortified town near the city of Brindisi. As far as we can tell, he stumbled into vent E7. It was on cool-down after a surface shot, that's why the troll isn't crispy barbecue right now.'

Holly grimaced. Charming, she thought.

'We've been lucky in that our target has bumped into some food along the way. He chewed on a couple of cows for an hour or two, so that bought us a bit of time.'

'A couple of cows?' exclaimed Holly. 'Just how big is this fellow?'

Foaly adjusted his foil bonnet. 'Bull troll. Fully grown. One hundred and eighty kilos, with tusks like a wild boar. A really wild boar.'

Holly swallowed. Suddenly Recon seemed a much better job than Retrieval.

'Right. What have you got for me?'

Foaly cantered across to the equipment table. He selected what looked like a rectangular wristwatch.

'Locator. You find him, we find you. Routine stuff.'

'Video?'

The centaur clipped a small cylinder into the accommodating groove on Holly's helmet.

'Live feed. Nuclear battery. No time limit. The mike is voice-activated.'

'Good,' said Holly. 'Root said I should take a weapon on this one. Just in case.'

'Way ahead of you,' said Foaly. He picked a platinum handgun from the pile. 'A Neutrino 2000. The latest model. Even the tunnel gangs don't have these. Three settings, if you don't mind. Scorched, well done and crisped to a cinder. Nuclear power source too, so plug away. This baby will outlive you by a thousand years.'

Holly strapped the lightweight weapon into her shoulder holster.

'I'm ready…I think.'

Foaly chuckled. 'I doubt it. No one's ever really ready for a troll.'

'Thanks for the confidence booster.'

'Confidence is ignorance,' advised the centaur. 'If you're feeling cocky, it's because there's something you don't know.'

Holly thought about arguing, but didn't. Maybe it was because she had a sneaking suspicion that Foaly was right.

The pressure elevators were powered by gaseous columns vented from the earth's core. The LEP tech boys, under Foaly's guidance, had fashioned titanium eggs that could ride on the currents. They had their own independent motors, but for an express ride to the surface there was nothing like the blast from a tidal flare.

Foaly led her past a long line of chute bays to E7. The pod sat in its clamp, looking very fragile to be rocketing about on magma streams. Its underside was charred black and pockmarked from shrapnel.

The centaur slapped it fondly on a fender. 'This baby's been in service for fifty years. Oldest model still in the chutes.'

Holly swallowed.The chutes made her nervous enough without riding in an antique.

'When does it come off-line?'

Foaly scratched his hairy belly. 'With funding the way it is, not until we have us a fatality.'

Holly cranked open the heavy door, the rubber seal yielding with a hiss. The pod was not built for comfort. There was barely enough space for a restraining seat among the jumble of electronics.

'What's that?' asked Holly, pointing at a greyish stain on the seat's headrest.

Foaly shuffled uncomfortably.

'Erm…brain fluid, I think. We had a pressure leak on the last mission. But that's plugged now. And the officer lived. Down a few IQ points, but alive, and he can still take liquids.'

'Well, that's all right then,' quipped Holly, threading her way through the mass of wires.

Foaly strapped the harness on to her, checking the restraints thoroughly.

'All set?'

Holly nodded.

Foaly tapped her helmet mike. 'Keep in touch,' he said, pulling the door behind him.

Don't think about it, Holly told herself. Don't think about the white-hot magma flow that's going to engulf this tiny craft. Don't think about hurtling towards the surface with a MACH 2 force trying to turn you inside-out. And certainly don't think about the blood-crazed troll ready to disembowel you with his tusks. Nope. Don't think about any of that stuff…Too late.

'-minus twenty,' he said. 'We're on a secure channel in case the Mud People have s

Foaly's voice sounded in her earpiece. 'T tarted underground monitoring. You never know. An oil tanker from the Middle East intercepted a transmission one time. What a mess that was.'

Holly adjusted her helmet mike.

'Focus, Foaly. My life is in your hands here.'

'Uh…OK, sorry. We're going to use the rail to drop you into E7's main shaft, there's a surge due any minute. That should see you past the first hundred klicks, then you're on your own.'

Holly nodded, curling her fingers around the twin joysticks.

'All systems check. Fire it up.'

There was a whoosh as the pod's engines ignited. The tiny craft jostled in its housing, shaking Holly like a bead in a rattle. She could barely hear Foaly speaking into her ear.

'You're in the secondary shaft now. Get ready to fly, Short.'

Holly pulled a rubber cylinder from the dash and slipped it between her teeth. No good having a radio if you've swallowed your tongue. She activated the external cameras and put the view on screen.

The entrance to E7 was creeping towards her. The air was shimmering in the landing-light glow. White-hot sparks tumbled into the secondary shaft. Holly couldn't hear the roar, but she could imagine it. A raw skinning wind like a million trolls howling.

Her fingers tightened around the joysticks. The pod shuddered to a halt at the lip. The chute stretched above and below. Massive.

Boundless. Like dropping an ant down a drainpipe.

'Right-o,' crackled Foaly. 'Hold on to your breakfast.

Rollercoasters ain't got nothing on this.'

Holly nodded. She couldn't speak, not with the rubber in her mouth. The centaur would be able to see her in the podcam anyway.

'Sayonara, sweetheart,' said Foaly, and pressed the button.

The pod's clamp tilted, rolling Holly into the abyss. Her stomach tightened as G-force took hold, dragging her to the centre of the earth.

The seismology section had a million probes down here, with a 99.8 success rate at predicting the magma flares. But there was always that point two per cent.