“In conclusion,” said the screen Artemis. “I would like to wish you, myself, the best of luck. And welcome back.”
The next hour passed in a blur. Images flashed from the screen, adhering to empty spaces in Artemis’s brain. Each memory felt right the instant Artemis processed it.
Of course, he thought. This explains everything. I had the mirrored contact lenses made so I could lie to the fairies and hide the existence of this journal. I fixed Mulch Diggums’s search warrant so that he could return the disk to me. Butler looks older because he is older; the fairy healing in London saved his life, but cost him fifteen years.
The memories were not all proud ones. I kidnapped Captain Short. I imprisoned Holly. How could I have done that?
He could not deny it any longer. This was all true. Everything that his eyes had seen was real. The fairies existed and his life had been intertwined with theirs for more than two years. A million images sprouted in his consciousness, rebuilding electric bridges in his brain. They strobed behind his eyes in a confusing display of color and wonder. A lesser mind than Artemis’s could have been utterly exhausted, but the Irish boy was exhilarated.
I know it all now, he thought. I beat Koboi before, and I will do it again. This determination was fueled by sadness. Commander Root is gone. Koboi took him from his People.
Artemis had known this earlier, but now it meant something.
There was one other thought, more persistent than the rest. It crashed into his mind like a tsunami.
I have friends? thought Artemis Fowl the Second. I have friends.
Artemis emerged from the bathroom a different person. Physically, he was still battered, bruised, and exhausted, but emotionally he felt prepared for everything that lay ahead. If a body language analyst had studied him at that moment, they would have observed his relaxed shoulders and open palms, and would have concluded that this was, psychologically speaking, a more welcoming and trustworthy individual than the one who had entered the bathroom an hour since.
The shuttle was parked in a secondary chute off the beaten track, and the occupants were at the mess table. A selection of LEP field ration packs had been torn open and devoured. The biggest pile of foil packs was stacked in front of Mulch Diggums.
Mulch glanced at Artemis and noticed the change immediately. “About time you got your head in order,” grunted Mulch, struggling from his chair. “I need to get into that bathroom urgently.”
“Nice to see you too, Mulch,” said Artemis, stepping aside to allow the dwarf past.
Holly froze, a sachet of juice halfway to her mouth. “You remember him?”
Artemis smiled. “Of course, Holly. We have known each other for more than two years.”
Holly jumped from her chair and clasped Artemis by the shoulders. “Artemis. It’s great to see you. The real you. The gods know we need Artemis Fowl right now.”
“Well, he’s here and ready for duty, Captain.”
“Do you remember everything?”
“Yes. I do. And first of all, let me apologize for that consultant business. That was very rude. Please forgive me.”
“But what made you remember?” asked the elf. “Don’t tell me a visit to the bathroom jogged your memory.”
“Not exactly.” Artemis held up the computer disk. “I gave this to Mulch. It is my video diary. He was supposed to return it to me upon his release from prison.”
Holly shook her head. “That’s not possible. Mulch was searched by experts. The only thing you gave him was the gold medallion.”
Artemis angled the disk so it caught the light.
“Of course,” groaned Holly, slapping her forehead. “You passed off that disk as the gold medallion. Very clever.”
Artemis shrugged. “Genius, actually. It seems merely clever in hindsight, but the original idea was pure genius.”
Holly cocked her head. “Genius. Of course. Believe it or not I actually missed that smug grin.”
Artemis took a breath. “I am so sorry about Julius. I know our relationship was a rocky one, but I had nothing but respect and admiration for the commander.”
Holly wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. She said nothing, just nodded. If Artemis needed another reason to go after Opal Koboi, the sight of the elfin captain so disturbed was it.
Butler ate the contents of a field ration pack in one mouthful. “Now that we’re all reacquainted, we should try to track Opal Koboi down. It’s a big world.”
Artemis waved his fingers dismissively. “No need. I know exactly where our would-be murderer is. Like all megalomaniacs, she has a tendency to show off.” He crossed to a plastic computer keyboard on the wall and called up a map of Europe.
“I see your Gnommish has come back to you,” sniffed Holly.
“Of course,” said Artemis, enlarging part of the map. “Opal revealed a little bit more of her plan than she knew. She let two words slip, though one would have been sufficient. She said that her human name was to be Belinda Zito. Now, if you wished to lead the humans to the Fairy People, who better to have adopt you than the renowned billionaire environmentalist Giovanni Zito?”
Holly crossed the shuttle deck to the screen. “And where would we find Dr. Zito?”
Artemis tapped a few keys, zooming in on Sicily. “At his world-famous Earth Ranch. Right there in the Messina province,” he said.
Mulch stuck his head out of the bathroom. The rest was mercifully hidden behind the door.
“Did I hear you talking about a Mud Man named Zito?”
Holly turned toward the dwarf, then kept right on turning. “Yes. So what? And for heaven’s sake close the door.”
Mulch pulled the door so only a crack remained. “I was just watching a bit of human television in here, as you do. Well there’s a Zito person on CNN. Do you think it’s the same person?”
Holly grabbed a remote control from the desktop. “I really hope not,” she said. “But I’d bet my life it is.”
A group of scientists appeared on the screen. They were gathered in what looked like a prefabricated laboratory, and each wore a white coat. One stood out from the rest. He was in his mid-forties, with tanned skin, strong handsome features, and long, dark hair curling over his collar. He wore rimless glasses and a lab coat. A striped Versace shirt protruded from beneath his white lapels.
“Giovanni Zito,” said Artemis.
“It is incredible, really,” Zito was telling a reporter in slightly accented English. “We have sent crafts to other planets, and yet we have no idea what lies beneath our feet. Scientists can tell us the chemical makeup of Saturn’s rings, but we don’t honestly know what lies at the center of our own planet.”
“But probes have been sent down before,” said the reporter, trying to pretend he hadn’t just picked up this knowledge from his earpiece.
“Yes,” agreed Zito. “But only to a depth of about nine miles. We need to get through to the outer core itself, almost two thousand miles down. Imagine if the currents of liquid metal in the outer core could be harnessed. There’s enough free energy in that metal to power mankind’s machines forever.”
The reporter was skeptical. At least, the real scientist speaking in his earpiece told him to be skeptical. “But this is all
speculation, Dr. Zito. Surely a voyage to the center of the earth is nothing but a fantasy? Possible only in the pages of science fiction.”
A brief flash of annoyance clouded Giovanni Zito’s features. “This is no fantasy, sir, I assure you. This is no fantastical voyage. We are sending an unmanned probe, bristling with sensors. Whatever is down there. We will find it.”
The reporter’s eyes widened in panic as a particularly technical question came over his earpiece. He listened for several seconds, mouthing the words as he heard them.
“Dr. Zito, eh . . . This probe you are sending down, I believe it will be encased in one hundred million tons of molten iron at about five and a half thousand degrees Celsius. Is that correct?”
“Absolutely,” confirmed Zito.
The reporter looked relieved. “Yes. I knew that. Anyway, my point is, it would take several years to gather so much iron. So why did you ask us here today?”
Zito clapped his hands excitedly. “This is the wonderful part. As you know the core probe was a long-term project. I had planned to accumulate the iron over the next ten years. But now, laser drilling has revealed a deep orebody of hematite, iron ore, on the bottom edge of the crust right here in Sicily. It’s incredibly rich, perhaps eighty-five percent iron. All we need to do is detonate several charges inside that deposit and we have our molten iron. I have already secured the mining permits from the government.”
The reporter asked the next question all on his own. “So, Dr. Zito, when do you detonate?”
Giovanni Zito removed two thick cigars from his lab coat pocket. “We detonate today,” he said, passing a cigar to the reporter. “Ten years early. This is a historic moment.” Zito opened the office curtains, revealing a fenced-off area of scrubland below the window. A metallic section of piping protruded from the earth in the center of the three-foot-square enclosure. As they watched, a crew of workmen clambered from the piping, moving hurriedly away from the opening. Wisps of gaseous coolant spiraled from the pipe. The men climbed into a golf trolley and exited the compound. They took shelter in a concrete bunker at the perimeter.