Nothing for several seconds, then the centaur’s voice burst through the helmet’s micro speaker.
“Holly. Hold on. You’re a bit fuzzy, I’m just going to fine-tune the wavelength. Talk to me. Say something.”
“Testing. One, two. One, two. Trolls in a tantrum cause terrible trouble.”
“Okay. Gotcha. Crystal clear. How goes it in the land of mud?”
Holly gazed down at the city below her.
“No mud here. Just glass, steel, and computers. You’d like it.”
“Oh no. Not me. Mud Men are Mud Men no matter if they’re wearing suits or loincloths. The only good thing about humans is the television. All we get on PPTV is reruns. I’m almost sorry the goblin generals’ trial is over. Guilty on all counts, thanks to you. Sentencing is next month.”
Anxiety loosened its grip on Holly’s stomach. “Guilty. Thank heaven. Things can finally go back to normal.”
Foaly snickered. “Normal? You’re in the wrong job for normal. You can kiss normal good-bye if we don’t get Artemis’s gizmo back from Spiro.”
The centaur was right. Her life had not been normal since she’d been promoted to Recon from the vice squad. But did she really want a normal life? Wasn’t that the reason why she had transferred from vice in the first place?
“So why the call?” asked Foaly. “Feeling a bit homesick, are you?”
“No,” replied Holly. And it was true. She wasn’t. The elf captain had barely thought of Haven since Artemis had embroiled her in his latest intrigue. “I need your advice.”
“Advice? Oh really? That wouldn’t be another way of asking for help now would it? I believe Commander Root’s words were, ‘You got what you got.’ Rules are rules, Holly.”
Holly sighed. “Yes, Foaly. Rules are rules. Julius knows best.”
“That’s right. Julius knows best,” said Foaly, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“You probably couldn’t help anyway. Spiro’s security is pretty advanced.”
Foaly snorted, and a centaur snorting is something to hear.
“Yeah, sure. What has he got? A couple of tin cans and a dog? Ooh, scary.”
“I wish. There’s stuff in this building that I’ve never seen before. Smart stuff.”
A small-liquid crystal screen flickered into life in the corner of Holly’s visor. Foaly was broadcasting a visual from Police Plaza. Technically, not something he should be doing for an unofficial operation. The centaur was curious.
“I know what you’re doing by the way,” said Foaly, wagging a finger.
“I have no idea what you mean.” said Holly innocently.
“You probably couldn’t help anyway. Spiro’s security is pretty advanced,” mimicked the centaur. “You’re trying to light a fire under my ego. I’m not stupid, Holly.”
“Okay. Maybe I am. Do you want the straight truth?”
“Oh, you’re going to tell me the truth now. Interesting tactic for the LEP.”
“The Spiro Needle is a fortress. There’s no way in without you, even Artemis admits it. We’re not looking for equipment or extra fairy power. Just advice over the airwaves, maybe a bit of camera work. Keep the lines open, that’s all I’m asking.”
Foaly scratched his chin. “No way in, eh? Even Artemis admits it.”
“‘We can’t do it without Foaly.’ His exact words.”
The centaur struggled to keep the smugness from his features.
“Have you got any video?”
Holly took a handheld computer from her belt.
“Artemis shot some film inside the Needle, I’m mailing it to you now.”
“I need a blueprint of the building.”
Holly panned her visor left and right, so Foaly could see where she was.
“That’s why I’m up here. To do an X-ray scan. It’ll be in your mainframe in ten minutes.”
Holly heard a bell chime in her speakers. It was a computer alert. Her mail had arrived in Police Plaza. Foaly opened the file.
“Key codes. Okay. Cameras. No problem. Wait until I show you what I’ve developed for CCTV cameras. I’m fast-forwarding through the corridors. Dum de dum de dum, ah, the vault. Pressure pads, antibiotic mats. Motion sensors. Temperature sensitive lasers. Thermal cameras. Voice recognition, retina and gel thumbprint scanners.” He paused. “Impressive, for a Mud Man.”
“You’re telling me,” agreed Holly. “A bit more than two tin cans and a dog.”
“Fowl is right. Without me, you’re sunk.”
“So, will you help?”
Foaly had to milk the moment. “I’m not promising anything. . . .”
“Yes?”
“I’ll keep a screen open for you. But if something comes up ...”
“I understand.”
“No guarantees.”
“No guarantees. I owe you a carton of carrots.”
“Two cartons. And a case of beetle juice.”
“Done.”
The centaur’s face was flushed with the promise of a challenge.
“Will you miss him, Holly?” he asked suddenly.
Holly was caught off guard by the question.
“Miss who?” she said, though she already knew.
“The Fowl boy, of course. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be wiped from his
memory. No more wild plots, or seat-of-the-pants adventures. It will be a quiet life.”
Holly avoided Foaly’s gaze, even though the centaur could not see her.
“No,” she said. “I will not miss him.”
But her eyes told the real story.
Holly circled the Needle several times at various altitudes, until the X-ray scanner had accumulated enough data for a 3-D model. She mailed a copy of the file to Foaly in Police Plaza and returned to the van.
“I thought I told you not to mark them,” she said, bending over the fallen hit men.
Juliet shrugged. “Hey. No big deal, fairy-girl. I got carried away in the heat of battle. Just give him a shot of blue sparks and send him on his way.”
Holly traced a finger around the perfectly circular bruise on Chips’s forehead.
“You should have seen me,” said Juliet. “Bang bang and they were down. Never had a chance.”
Holly sent a solitary spark down her finger. It wiped away the bruise like damp cloth cleaning a coffee ring.
“You could have used the Neutrino to stun them, you know.”
“The Neutrino? Where’s the fun in that?”
Captain Short removed her helmet, glaring up at the teenage human.
“This is not supposed to be fun, Juliet. It’s not a game. I thought you realized that, considering what happened to Butler.”
Juliet’s grin disappeared. “I know it’s not a game, Captain. Maybe this is the way I deal with things.”
Holly held her gaze. “Well then, maybe you’re in the wrong line of work.”
“Or maybe you’ve been in this line of work too long,” argued Juliet. “According to Butler, you used to be a bit of a wild card yourself.”
Mulch emerged from the bathroom. This time he had been applying a layer of sun block. It was the middle of the night, but the dwarf wasn’t taking any chances. If this insertion went haywire, as it probably would, then he could very well be on the run by morning.
“What’s the problem, ladies? If you’re fighting over me, don’t bother. I make it a point never to date outside my species.”
The tension deflated like a punctured balloon.
“Dream on, hairball,” said Holly.