“Absolutely anything. I don’t care if Martians built it, Doodah Day can drive it.”
“Good, because I got an offer for you. I’m not particularly happy about it, but I have to run it past you anyway.”
“Go for it, Stinky.”
Mulch groaned internally. Their little band of adventurers needed another smart-ass like they needed ten years of bad luck.
“I need you for one day, to drive one vehicle, for one trip. You do that and you have amnesty.”
Doodah was impressed. It was an impressive deal.
“So all I gotta do is drive and you wipe the slate?”
“Apparently.”
Doodah tapped his forehead with a lobster claw. “This is too easy; there’s gotta be a catch.”
Mulch shrugged. “Well, it’s going be aboveground, and there’ll be a lot of armed Mud Men chasing after you.”
“Yeah?” Doodah grinned through a mouthful of lobster juice. “But what’s the catch?”
CHAPTER 7
BOBO’S RUN
The Chateau Paradizo, Southern France
By the time Mulch and Doodah landed outside Tourrettes sur Loup, the dwarf was a nervous wreck.
“He’s crazy,” he gibbered, tumbling from the hatch of a tiny titanium pod, which had been landed expertly on a flat patch not much bigger than a postage stamp. “The pixie is crazy! Give me your gun, Holly. I’m going to shoot him.”
Doodah Day appeared in the hatch and hopped nimbly to the ground. “That ship is fantastic,” he said in Gnommish. “Where can I get one?”
His grin withered and died when he noticed that the thing he had previously believed to be a tree moved and spoke in one of the primitive Mud Man tongues.
“This would be Doodah Day, I presume. He makes a lot of noise, doesn’t he?”
“Arkkkk!” said Doodah. “Big Mud Man.”
“Yes, he is,” said another Mud Man, or maybe a Mud Boy. This one was smaller, but somehow seemed even more dangerous.
“You speak Gnommish?” asked the terrified pixie, in case the big one would eat him for not being polite.
“Yes,” said Artemis. “I do, but Butler is not so fluent. So, English, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Sure thing. Not a problem,” said Doodah, grateful that he still had the tiny spark of magic left in his brain necessary to fuel his gift of tongues.
Doodah and Mulch had flown across the lower peaks of the Alps Maritime in a pod built for riding the magma flares from the earth’s core. These chutes had rudimentary shields, but they were not intended for aboveground travel. Doodah’s instructions had been to ride the hotshots to a small port near Bern, Switzerland, then strap on a pair of wings and low-fly the rest of the way. But once Doodah got behind the pod’s wheel, he decided that it would be much faster if they did the second leg on board the tiny ship.
Holly was impressed. “You fly pretty well for a smuggler. Those pods handle like a three-legged pig.”
Doodah slapped a titanium fin fondly. “She’s a good girl. You just need to treat her right.”
Mulch was still shaking. “We came this close! This close to being incinerated. I lost count after the first dozen times.”
Doodah chortled. “That’s not all you lost, dwarf. Someone is going to have to swab the decks in there.”
Holly looked Doodah in the eyes. Okay, they were making small talk, but there was a little history between them.
“You could have killed me, pixie,” said Holly evenly, giving the little smuggler a chance to explain himself.
“I know. I nearly did. That’s why it’s time for me to get out of the business. Review the situation. Take a long hard look at my priorities.”
“Horse manure,” tutted Holly. “I don’t believe a word.”
“Me neither,” said Doodah. “That’s my parole-board spiel. With the big eyes and the wobbly lip, works every time. But seriously, I’m sorry about the multi-mixer thing, officer. I was desperate. But you were never in danger. These hands are pure magic on a wheel.”
Holly decided to let it go. Nursing a grudge would only make a difficult mission next to impossible. And anyway, now Doodah would have a chance to make it up to her.
Butler lifted Mulch to his feet.
“How are you doing there, Mulch?”
Mulch glowered at Doodah. “I will be doing fine once my head stops spinning. That ship is only built for one, you know. I’ve had that little monkey in my lap for the past few hours. Every time we went over a bump, he butted me under the chin.”
Butler winked at his dwarf friend. “Well, look at it this way. You had to take a ride in his environment, but now he has to take a ride in yours.”
Doodah caught the end of that sentence. “Ride? What ride? Who has to take a ride?”
Mulch rubbed his hairy palms together. “I am going to enjoy this.”
They lay down side by side in a low ditch overlooking the chateau. The land sloped gently downward and was dotted with the twisted forms of ancient olive trees. The surface soil was dry and loose, but reasonably tasty, according to Mulch.
“The Alpine water is pretty good,” he explained, spitting out a mouthful of pebbles. “And the olives give the clay a nice tang.”
“That’s very nice,” said Artemis patiently. “But all I really want to know is can you make it to the septic tank?”
“Septic tank?” said Doodah nervously. “What are we talking about septic tanks for? I ain’t going into no septic tank. Forget the deal.”
“Not into the tank,” corrected Artemis. “Behind it. The tank is the only cover before the chateau itself.”
Holly was scanning the terrain with her visor. “The tank is buried as close to the house as possible. After that it’s just rock. But you have a nice thick vein of soil as far as that point. What you need to do is lure that boy in the cowboy hat in behind the tank with a bar of chocolate, then Doodah takes his place.”
“Then what? That toy car isn’t going anywhere fast.”
“It doesn’t need to, Doodah. All you have to do is drive inside the house and wind this around any video cable you see.”
Holly handed Doodah a cable tie with tiny spikes along its length. “This is loaded with fiber optics. Once it’s in place, we own their surveillance.”
“Can we rewind to the bar of chocolate?” said Mulch. “Does anyone have one?”
“Here,” said Artemis, handing him a flat bar in a green wrapper. “Butler bought this in the village. It’s very low quality, not seventy percent cocoa, or fair trade, for that matter, but it will do.”
“So what about after the kid eats the chocolate?” asked Mulch. “What do I do with a kid?”
“You are not to injure him,” said Holly. “Just entertain him for a minute.”
“Entertain him? How am I supposed to do that?”
“Use your dwarf talents,” suggested Artemis. “Young children are inquisitive. Eat some rocks. Pass wind. Little Beau will be fascinated.”
“Couldn’t I just shoot him?”
“Mulch!” said Holly, horrified.
“I don’t mean kill him. Just knock him out for a few minutes. Kids like naps. I’d be doing him a favor, really.”
“Knocking him out would be ideal,” admitted Holly.
“But I don’t have anything safe, so you’ll have to keep him busy for five minutes tops.”
“I am a charmer, I suppose,” said Mulch. “And if worst comes to worst, I can always eat him.” He grinned widely at Holly’s shocked expression. “I’m kidding. Honest. I’d never eat a Mud Kid, they’re too bony.”
Holly elbowed Artemis, who was beside her on the bank. “Are you sure about this?”
“It was your basic idea,” replied Artemis. “But, yes, I am sure. There are other options, but we don’t have the time. Mulch has always displayed initiative. I feel certain he won’t let us down. As for Mr. Day, his freedom is on the line. A strong incentive to perform.”
“Enough of the chatter,” said
Mulch. “I’m starting to burn, here. You know how sensitive dwarf skin is.” He stood and unbuttoned the bum-flap on the seat of his pants. (Where else would a bum-flap be?) “Okay, pixie. Hop on.”
Doodah Day seemed genuinely frightened. “Are you sure?”
Mulch sighed. “Sure I’m sure. What are you afraid of? It’s just a rear end.”
“Yeah, maybe. But it’s smiling at me.”
“Perhaps it’s happy to see you. You don’t want to be there if it gets angry.”
Holly punched Mulch on the shoulder.
“That is a really bad habit,” complained Mulch, rubbing his arm. “You should see someone about your anger issues.”
“Could you please quit the bum talk? We’re on a tight schedule here!”
“Okay. Get on, pixie. I promise it won’t bite.”