Chapter Eleven
Disclaimer: If you still can't figure it out, just wait for the men in white coats to come...
Foaly stretched his hand through the bars of the cage. Just a bit farther, and he could escape. Keep thinking positive, he told himself. Don't think about the pain ripping through your muscles, or the chewing out Root is going to give you, or all the horrible experiments that will be done on you if you fail. Don't think about any of that...too late.
Finally, he grasped the handle of his carrying bag. He scrabbled around insider of it. There was his guide on how to disassemble a nuclear battery, Fairy Computers for Dummies, a half-eaten carrot, a set of electrodes, and—
No multidriver. Foaly was extremely disheartened, to say the least. What followed this heartbreaking discovery was a chapter's worth of unprintable words.
After letting off some steam, he looked around the room. Somewhere in it there must be something to get him out. It was just a matter of finding it. But no lockpicking materials seemed to be at hand.
Then he spotted it. A coat hanger, and just within reach. By stretching a little further...and a bit more...
Foaly gasped as he felt his shoulder pop out of his socket with a wet crunch. But he was able to snag the hanger, and with a little adjusting, he was able to pick the lock. Now, of course, he had to escape the building, and be completely unobserved. It appeared that there were cameras placed just outside of the holding room. If he had had a little more time, he could wipe his pattern from their memory, but that was not an option now. He picked up his shoulder bag and strode over to the door. He couldn't be sure without an iris cam, but it appeared that all of the cameras were pointed at the cages lining the hall, not at the door. If he pressed up against the wall, he could make it.
Cradling his injured shoulder, he trotted over to the other side of the hall. That had been easy enough. Now, though, he must get through the main holding area. If there was a way to keep the animals from making any noise...but Foaly saw that that would be impossible. In fact, silence would betray him even faster than noise. Then he had an inspiration. He smiled to himself. If Fowl were here, even he couldn't have done any better.
The security guards for the sector that Foaly occupied were none other than Pex and Chips. The two had lost their jobs with Jon Spiro, and were only out of prison because the description 'elephantine' hadn't been enough for the cops to go on.
"Hey," Pex said. "A dog." This dog was a pit bull, rescued from an illegal dogfighting arena, but Pex didn't know that. Pex probably couldn't even spell dogfighting. It had three syllables, for crying out loud.
Chips was busy munching on a bag of chips. "Aren't the dogs supposed to be in their cages?" he asked. All in all, it was a major achievement for him. It was his longest sentence in four weeks.
"I dunno," Pex said. That was his second favorite thing to say. His first was "Pass the remote, Chips." "Maybe we should stop it."
"Okay," Chips replied. Neither of them remembered the training lesson that their job instructor had given them on the first day. If they had, the following events would have unfolded very differently. Their trainer, an ex- SAS trooper, had one thing that he said to every class. "Don't you never get in a pit bull's way," he said, "or in about three seconds you'll be making your explanations to Saint Peter."
Foaly peeked his head around the corner. It had worked. The dumb oafs in the security office had left it unguarded while they chased the dog. Now he was free to manipulate the cameras as he chose. Wiping his pattern would take too much time, of course. Foaly had never heard of Eric's Golden Rule, but he certainly would have agreed with it if he had. Instead, he disconnected a service panel and pulled a strategic wire. Instantly, the cameras stopped. The entire sector was blind. He grinned. If only Mud Men knew how pathetic their security was. That was just before he felt a cold steel something in the back of his neck. You didn't need to have a genius IQ to figure that one out.
Chips gingerly approached the pit bull. "Hey, boy," he said. "What are you doing out of your cage? You get back in there right now!"
The dog snarled. This human might be large, but he didn't like his tone of voice. Bigger men than Chips had fallen victim to this dog's attacks—though, to be fair, there weren't many people larger than Chips, except perhaps Butler.
"Easy, boy," he said. "I'm just gonna put this leash on you, and you'll go..." Then Chips noticed something. Pex was gone. He turned to see where he had gone. "Pex?" That was his mistake. The dog lunged.
"All right," Pex said to Foaly. "We can do this the easy way, or we can—"He struggled to remember the rest of the line. Concentrating hard, he finally remembered. "Or, we can do it the easy way!" he said, grinning broadly. This was almost as fun as his old job.
"What about—"Foaly began, then remembered that he hasn't supposed to be able to talk. "Um, neigh. Neigh, whinny."
"Don't move, horsy-boy," Pex said. "Guns can be dangerous. But I know how to use 'em." Pex then proceeded to march Foaly over towards the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Foaly could see confiscated fairy technology sitting on a stainless steel counter. His field mind-wiper, multidriver—and personal Neutrino XE. The latest model, it employed revolutionary new technologies to incapacitate. The gun emitted two types of energy—a neural decohesion beam, which disrupted the cellular processes throughout the body. Now you didn't need a pinpoint shot, because the beam spread throughout the entire body of the perp. Much more effective. The other setting was the conventional 'burn' setting. The dual-system weapon had actually been appropriated from a human TV show Foaly watched. Star Trek, or something like that. He was actually a bit miffed that the humans had though of something like this in the sixties and he hadn't.
Foaly made his decision. He bolted for the table. Three shots rang out. They all found their mark.
Disclaimer: If you still can't figure it out, just wait for the men in white coats to come...
Foaly stretched his hand through the bars of the cage. Just a bit farther, and he could escape. Keep thinking positive, he told himself. Don't think about the pain ripping through your muscles, or the chewing out Root is going to give you, or all the horrible experiments that will be done on you if you fail. Don't think about any of that...too late.
Finally, he grasped the handle of his carrying bag. He scrabbled around insider of it. There was his guide on how to disassemble a nuclear battery, Fairy Computers for Dummies, a half-eaten carrot, a set of electrodes, and—
No multidriver. Foaly was extremely disheartened, to say the least. What followed this heartbreaking discovery was a chapter's worth of unprintable words.
After letting off some steam, he looked around the room. Somewhere in it there must be something to get him out. It was just a matter of finding it. But no lockpicking materials seemed to be at hand.
Then he spotted it. A coat hanger, and just within reach. By stretching a little further...and a bit more...
Foaly gasped as he felt his shoulder pop out of his socket with a wet crunch. But he was able to snag the hanger, and with a little adjusting, he was able to pick the lock. Now, of course, he had to escape the building, and be completely unobserved. It appeared that there were cameras placed just outside of the holding room. If he had had a little more time, he could wipe his pattern from their memory, but that was not an option now. He picked up his shoulder bag and strode over to the door. He couldn't be sure without an iris cam, but it appeared that all of the cameras were pointed at the cages lining the hall, not at the door. If he pressed up against the wall, he could make it.
Cradling his injured shoulder, he trotted over to the other side of the hall. That had been easy enough. Now, though, he must get through the main holding area. If there was a way to keep the animals from making any noise...but Foaly saw that that would be impossible. In fact, silence would betray him even faster than noise. Then he had an inspiration. He smiled to himself. If Fowl were here, even he couldn't have done any better.
The security guards for the sector that Foaly occupied were none other than Pex and Chips. The two had lost their jobs with Jon Spiro, and were only out of prison because the description 'elephantine' hadn't been enough for the cops to go on.
"Hey," Pex said. "A dog." This dog was a pit bull, rescued from an illegal dogfighting arena, but Pex didn't know that. Pex probably couldn't even spell dogfighting. It had three syllables, for crying out loud.
Chips was busy munching on a bag of chips. "Aren't the dogs supposed to be in their cages?" he asked. All in all, it was a major achievement for him. It was his longest sentence in four weeks.
"I dunno," Pex said. That was his second favorite thing to say. His first was "Pass the remote, Chips." "Maybe we should stop it."
"Okay," Chips replied. Neither of them remembered the training lesson that their job instructor had given them on the first day. If they had, the following events would have unfolded very differently. Their trainer, an ex- SAS trooper, had one thing that he said to every class. "Don't you never get in a pit bull's way," he said, "or in about three seconds you'll be making your explanations to Saint Peter."
Foaly peeked his head around the corner. It had worked. The dumb oafs in the security office had left it unguarded while they chased the dog. Now he was free to manipulate the cameras as he chose. Wiping his pattern would take too much time, of course. Foaly had never heard of Eric's Golden Rule, but he certainly would have agreed with it if he had. Instead, he disconnected a service panel and pulled a strategic wire. Instantly, the cameras stopped. The entire sector was blind. He grinned. If only Mud Men knew how pathetic their security was. That was just before he felt a cold steel something in the back of his neck. You didn't need to have a genius IQ to figure that one out.
Chips gingerly approached the pit bull. "Hey, boy," he said. "What are you doing out of your cage? You get back in there right now!"
The dog snarled. This human might be large, but he didn't like his tone of voice. Bigger men than Chips had fallen victim to this dog's attacks—though, to be fair, there weren't many people larger than Chips, except perhaps Butler.
"Easy, boy," he said. "I'm just gonna put this leash on you, and you'll go..." Then Chips noticed something. Pex was gone. He turned to see where he had gone. "Pex?" That was his mistake. The dog lunged.
"All right," Pex said to Foaly. "We can do this the easy way, or we can—"He struggled to remember the rest of the line. Concentrating hard, he finally remembered. "Or, we can do it the easy way!" he said, grinning broadly. This was almost as fun as his old job.
"What about—"Foaly began, then remembered that he hasn't supposed to be able to talk. "Um, neigh. Neigh, whinny."
"Don't move, horsy-boy," Pex said. "Guns can be dangerous. But I know how to use 'em." Pex then proceeded to march Foaly over towards the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Foaly could see confiscated fairy technology sitting on a stainless steel counter. His field mind-wiper, multidriver—and personal Neutrino XE. The latest model, it employed revolutionary new technologies to incapacitate. The gun emitted two types of energy—a neural decohesion beam, which disrupted the cellular processes throughout the body. Now you didn't need a pinpoint shot, because the beam spread throughout the entire body of the perp. Much more effective. The other setting was the conventional 'burn' setting. The dual-system weapon had actually been appropriated from a human TV show Foaly watched. Star Trek, or something like that. He was actually a bit miffed that the humans had though of something like this in the sixties and he hadn't.
Foaly made his decision. He bolted for the table. Three shots rang out. They all found their mark.