Butler nodded. “I understand. Do you mind if I stay? I want to see how this turns out.”
Commons agreed eagerly, relieved that Butler hadn’t pressured him.
“No problem. Stick around as long as you like. But I have to get you a visitor’s badge.” He strode down the corridor, then turned.
“Don’t go in there, Butler. If you do, we lose him forever. And anyway, there are cameras all over this place.”
Butler smiled reassuringly. Something he didn’t do very often.
“Don’t worry, Sid. You won’t see me in that room.”
Commons sighed. “Good. Great. It’s just that sometimes, when you get that look in your eye . . .”
“I’m a different man now. More mature.”
Commons laughed. “That’ll be the day.”
He rounded the corner, his chuckles lingering in the air. He was no sooner gone than Holly unshielded beside Butler’s leg.
“Cameras?” hissed the bodyguard from the corner of his mouth.
“I checked the ion beams. I’m clear right here.” She pulled a sheet of camouflage foil from her backpack, laying it on the floor. She then twisted a video clip around a cable tacked to the cell’s outer wall.
“Okay,” she said, listening to Foaly’s voice in her ear. “We’re in. Foaly has wiped our patterns from the video. We are camera- and mike-proof now. Do you know what to do?”
Butler nodded. They had been through this before, but Holly had a soldier’s need to double check.
“I’m going to shield again. Give me a second to move, then put the foil on and do your thing. I give you two minutes tops before your friend returns. After that you’re n your own.”
“Understood.”
“Good luck,” said Holly, shimmering out of the visible spectrum.
Butler waited a beat, then took two steps to the left. He picked up the foil and draped it over his head and shoulders. To the casual passerby, he was now invisible. But if anyone paused on their way down the corridor, something of the manservant’s bulk was bound to be poking out from under the foil. Best to move quickly. He slid the latch on the cell door, and stepped inside.
Arno Blunt was not unduly worried. This was a bum rap. How long could you be held without charge, for heaven’s sake? Not much longer, that was for sure. Maybe he would sue the British government for trauma, and retire home to New Zealand.
The door swung open a foot, then closed again. Blunt sighed. It was an old interrogator’s trick. Let the prisoner sweat for a few hours, then open the door to make him think help was on the way. When no one entered, the prisoner would be plunged into even deeper despair. Ever closer to the breaking point.
“Arno Blunt,” sighed a voice, from nowhere. Blunt stopped drumming his fingers and sat up straight.
“What is this?” he sneered. “Are there speakers in here? That’s lame, guys. Really lame.”
“I’ve come for you,” said the voice. “I’ve come to even the score.”
Arno Blunt knew that voice. He’d been dreaming about it since Chicago. Ever since the Irish kid had warned him Butler would return. Okay, it was ridiculous, there were no such things as ghosts. But there was something about Artemis Fowl’s stare that made you believe everything he told you.
“Butler? Is that you?”
“Ah,” said the voice. “You remember me.”
Arno took a deep shuddering breath. Composing himself.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m not falling for it. What? I’m supposed to cry like a baby now, because you found somebody who sounds like one of my . . . Somebody I knew?”
“This is no trick, Arno. I’m right here.”
“Sure. If you’re right there, why can’t I see you?”
“Are you sure you can’t see me, Arno? Look closely.”
Blunt’s stare hopped wildly around the room. There was no one else in here. No one. He was certain of it. But there was a patch of air in the corner of the room. It seemed to be bending light, like a floating mirror.
“Ah, you’ve spotted me.”
“I’ve spotted nothing,” said Blunt shakily. “All I see is a heat blur. Maybe from a vent or something.”
“Oh, really?” said Butler, throwing off the camouflage foil. To Blunt it seemed as though he had stepped from the air. The bodyguard stood up abruptly, catapulting his chair gainst the wall.
“Oh God! What are you?”
Butler bent his knees slightly. Ready for action. He was older now, true. And slower. But the fairy magic had bolstered his reaction time, and he had so much more experience than Blunt. Juliet would have liked to handle this job for him, but there were some things you had to finish personally.
“I am your guide, Arno. I’ve come to take you home. There are a lot of people waiting to see you.”
“H-h-home?” stammered Blunt. “What do you mean home?”
Butler took a step forward. “You know what I mean, Arno. Home. The place you’ve always been headed. The place you’ve sent so many others. Including me.”
Blunt pointed a shaky finger. “You stay away from me. I killed you once, I can do it again.”
Butler laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. “That’s where you’re wrong, Arno. I can’t be killed again. Anyway, death is no big deal, not compared to what comes after.”
“What comes after . . .”
“There is a hell, Arno,” said Butler. “I’ve seen it, and believe me, so will you.”
Blunt was utterly convinced. After all, Butler had appeared from nowhere.
“I didn’t know,” he sobbed. “I didn’t believe it. I never would have shot you, Butler. I was just following Spiro’s orders. You heard him give the order. I was just the metal man, that’s all I’ve ever been.”
Butler laid a hand on his shoulder. “I believe you, Arno. You were just following orders.”
“That’s right.”
“But that’s not enough. You need to clear your conscience. If you don’t, I have to take you with me.”
Blunt’s eyes were red with tears. “How?” he pleaded. “How do I do that?”
“Confess your sins to the authorities. Leave nothing out, or I will be back.”
Blunt nodded eagerly. Prison was better than the alternative.
“Remember, I will be watching. This is your one chance to save yourself. If you don’t take it, I will be back.”
Blunt’s teeth popped from his open mouth, rolling across the floor.
“Don’ worry. I’ll confeth. I promith.”
Butler lifted the camouflage foil, concealing himself completely.
“See that you do, or there’ll be hell to pay.”
Butler stepped into the corridor, stuffing the cam foil inside his jacket. Seconds later Sid Commons reappeared with a security badge.
He caught sight of Arno Blunt standing stunned in his cell.
“What did you do, Butler?” he said.
“Hey, it wasn’t me. Check your tapes. He just went crazy, talking to thin air. Yelling how he wanted to confess.”
“He wants to confess? Just like that?”
“I know how it sounds, but that’s what happened. If I were you, I’d give Justin Barre a call over at Scotland Yard. I have a feeling that Blunt’s statement could clear up a lot of outstanding cases.”
Commons squinted at him suspiciously. “Why do I have a feeling that you know more than you’re telling?”
“Search me,” said Butler. “But feelings aren’t evidence, and your own surveillance tapes will prove that I never set foot in that room.”
“Are you sure that’s what they’ll show?”
Butler glanced at the patch of air shimmering above Sid Commons’ shoulder.
“I am positive,” he said.
CHAPTER 12
MIND WIPE
Fowl Manor
The return trip from Heathrow took more than an hour thanks to some particularly strong turbulence and an easterly wind over the Welsh hills. When Holly a
nd Butler finally touched down on the grounds of Fowl Manor, the LEP were busy hauling their mind-wiping gear up the avenue under cover of night.
Butler unclipped himself from the Moonbelt, leaning against the trunk of a silver birch.