Artemis Fowl listened carefully to the phone conversation between Doctor Nero and a Colonel Francisco.
"ETA is six hours," the Colonel said. "Maybe less, if we push it."
"Very well," Nero said. "We'll give you our location when you're fifteen minutes out."
The line went dead.
"They plan to go to another safe house," Artemis said, lightly pressing his fingertips together. "They rather tend to rely on that tactic, don't they?" He tapped his earpiece. "Foaly, can you find the safe house?"
"Give me a few seconds," Foaly said, the sounds of a keyboard being pounded returning.
"I still think this is unwise," Butler said. In fact, he knew it to be unwise.
"Sorry, Butler," Artemis put a hand on his shoulder. "This is something… I must do."
"Besides," Juliet said. "If we don't go then that blond little rat will never get the butt-kicking she deserves."
There was something about that girl Juliet couldn't stand. The confidence of limb, the arrogance of existing, something along those lines. Juliet would be more than happy to take her down a few notches, and remind her of her deepest fears.
Holly offered Butler a half-smile. "Come on, soldier," she said. "You've got me, and I'm sure you'll be able to handle it."
Butler sighed, knowing very well that he wouldn't.
"Have you gotten everything you need?" he asked. Artemis nodded, and so Butler loaded the bags into the car, followed by his sister, fairy, and principal. He took the wheel, and pulled out onto the street.
With Artemis acting as a guide, Butler navigated the moderately busy streets until he reached a row of warehouses. Butler put the car in park and took the keys from the ignition.
"Thank you, Butler," Artemis said. "But I'm afraid you can't park the car here. They'll notice."
"You go on ahead, I'll hide it," Butler said, his tongue feeling thick and heavy. What on earth was he doing? Any bum knew not to park in plain view of the enemy, and now Artemis was venturing into some secret lair without Butler to protect him!
Butler groaned.
For a moment he couldn't understand what was happening. Then he realized. He was afraid. His fear paralyzed his training, as it never had before, and the key to it all was their adversary.
Raven. The nightmarish bird that killed with a violent grace. No one dared cross her lightly. But Artemis did. He didn't know how many people she had killed or who she had killed them for, rumor had twisted that truth beyond recognition. He only knew that to defy her was death, because it was a simple fact about Raven: she never lost. Furan had beaten the skill into her, but she was not like some dumb hand meant to throw around his weight and guard hostages. Something, or maybe even someone, had given her a purpose beyond slavery. It was that purpose which made Butler's blood run cold.
Somehow Artemis dismissed the stories as the stuff of legend and carried on with his own plan. Artemis's failure was Butler's failure, and that was bad enough to think about, much less to face. Yet he would have to face it. Now.
Butler locked the car and left it hidden, quickly covering his tracks before joining the others inside.
"Look at this arsenal," Juliet was saying. "It's so small. It's kind of cute, when you think about it."
"But again, small," Artemis said. "Now, Butler , there you are. I would like you up on that landing there, if you don't mind. Holly will turn on her shield and Juliet can position herself near the weapons dock."
They moved as Artemis directed them, Artemis himself taking a seat in the large, black swivel chair at the head of the room.
"And now we wait," he said smugly to himself.
"They're about to intersect," Trent said formally. "My dear, would you like to watch their last glorious encounter before they die?"
"Record it for me," Opal said. "I'm afraid I'm a little busy at the moment."
She smiled admiringly at her own developing face. She was making her own clone—a fantastic replica to fool that idiot Argon. Still, she thought, nothing could ever quite compare with the glory of the original copy.
"Doing what?" Trent asked. His eyes squinted and his mouth curved into an unhappy grimace.
"None of your business, I'm afraid," Opal said, fingering a box of chocolate truffles greedily. "Why? Are you spying on me?"
"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear," Trent replied. "I have far too many things to do without you."
"Very well," Opal said loftily. "Goodbye, dear Sebastian!"
She buzzed out. Only Trent remained.
He glanced at his other monitor, secured as much as a computer could possibly be in this day and age, automatically shielding a horrified fascination from his face. The emotion, however, was strong.
On screen, the naked body of a woman was sprawled out on a metal slab. More precisely, part of one. Surrounding her were many doctors in white lab coats, their gloved hands gently handling the woman's flesh despite the fact that they were freezing—their breaths were visible clouds in the air. Over the last few weeks they had cut away the deadened flesh from the spirit still holding onto passionate hatred. Today they began to fuse what was left of her with a new metal frame, so that soon she might return to her purpose.
Trent could only watch. Among the customary drabness of his office, it was the only thing he could truly keep his eyes on. There was no guarantee this would work. The end result could very well be failure. Then again, perhaps Verity remained, somewhere between life and death, clinging to the hope of resurrection and vengeance.
Or, if not the assassin herself, her ghost.