The park’s residents were thoroughly spooked too. They
screeched and chattered, rattling their cages, hurling themselves
against the bars. Monkeys tried repeatedly to leap
across the moats surrounding their islands. An eight-hundredkilo
Sumatran rhino charged the heavy doors to its compound,
rattling the hinges with each attack. A red wolf snarled and
snapped, an Iberian lynx hissed, slashing the air, and a snow
leopard chased its tail, flicking its head and mewling anxiously.
Butler could not help but shift his focus.
‘It’s the female creature,’ he stated. ‘Making some kind
of sound. It’s riling these animals up. I’m a bit disturbed
myself.’
Artemis did not take his gaze from the lemur. ‘You know
what to do,’ he said.
Butler knew. If there is an obstacle preventing the
completion of a mission, remove the obstacle. He strode
quickly to the bars, poked the pistol’s muzzle through the
mesh and put a dart into the female’s shoulder.
She stumbled backwards, her fantastic orchestra of
animal sounds squawking to a halt.
Butler felt a shudder of guilt, which almost caused him

to misstep on his way to Artemis’s side. Twice now he had
tranked this girl, or whatever she was, without having any
idea what the chemicals were doing to her non-human
system. His only consolation was that he had loaded small
dosage darts as soon as he had secured the night watchman.
She shouldn’t be out too long. A few minutes tops.
The lemur was spooked now. Tiny hands tickling the
space before him. The sap cocktail was tempting, but there
was danger here of the worst kind and the urge to live was
overriding the desire for a tasty treat.
‘No,’ said Artemis, seeing fear cloud the creature’s eyes.
‘It’s not real. There is no danger.’
The little simian was not convinced, as if it could read
the boy’s intention in the sharp angles of his face.
The silky sifaka squeaked once, as though pin-pricked,
then scampered along Artemis’s arm, over his shoulder and
out through the cage door.
Butler lunged for the tail, but missed by a hair. He closed
his fingers into a fist.
‘Perhaps it’s time to admit defeat on this one. We are
dangerously unprepared and our adversaries have . . . abilities
we know nothing about.’
His charge’s reply was to hurry after the lemur.
‘Artemis, wait,’ sighed Butler. ‘ I f we must proceed, then
I will take the lead.’
‘They want the lemur,’ Artemis panted as he ran. ‘And
so it becomes more valuable than it was. When we catch
the animal, then we are in a position of power.’

( atching the animal was easier said than done. The lemur
was incredibly agile and found purchase on the smoothest
< >l surfaces. It darted without a wobble along a metal railing,
leaping three metres to the lower branches of a potted palm
and from there jumping to the compound wall.
‘Shoot!’ hissed Artemis.
It occurred to Butler briefly that he did not care for
A rtemis’s expression — almost cruel, his brow creased where
a ten-year-old’s brow should not have creases — but he would
worry about that later; for now he had an animal to sedate.
Butler was quick but the silky sifaka was quicker. In a
Hash of fur it scaled the wall and dropped outside into the
night, leaving a blurred white j e t stream in its wake.
‘Wow,’ said Butler, almost in admiration. ‘That was fast.’
Artemis was not impressed by his bodyguard’s choice
of words. ‘Wow? I think this merits more than a wow. Our
quarry has escaped and with it the funds for my Arctic
expedition.’
At this point Butler was fast losing interest in the lemur.
There were other less ignoble ways to raise funds. Butler
shuddered to think of the ribbing he would have to endure
if an account of this night somehow made it to Farmer’s
Bar in LA, which was owned by one ex-blue-diamond bodyguard
and frequented by many more.
But, in spite of his distaste for the mission, Butler’s sense
of loyalty forced him to share a fact that the park director
had mentioned earlier when Artemis was busy studying the
alarm system.

‘There is something that I know, which you may not
know,’ he said archly.
Artemis was not in the mood for games. ‘Oh, really.
And what would that be?’
‘Lemurs are tree creatures,’ replied Butler. ‘That little guy
is spooked and he’s going to climb the biggest tree he can
find, even if it isn’t actually a tree. If you see what I mean.’
Artemis saw immediately, which wasn’t difficult as the
huge structures cast a lattice of moon shadows over the
entire compound.
‘ O f course, old friend,’ he said, his frown crease disappearing.
‘The pylons.’
Things were going disastrously wrong for Artemis the elder.
Mulch was injured, Holly was unconscious again — feet sticking
out of the dwarf’s hole – and he himself was fast running out
of ideas. The deafening clamour of a hundred endangered
species going berserk was not helping his concentration.
The animals are going ape, he thought. Then: What a time
to develop a sense of humour.
All he could do was prioritize.
/ need to get Holly out of here, he realized. That is the most
important thing.
Mulch moaned, rolling on to his back, and Artemis saw
that there was a bleeding gash on his forehead.
He stumbled to the dwarf’s side. ‘I imagine you’re in great
pain,’ he said. ‘It’s to be expected with such a laceration.’
Bedside manner was not one of Artemis’s strong suits. ‘You

will have a rather large scar, but then looks are not really
important to you.’
Mulch squinted at Artemis through a narrowed eye. ‘Are
you trying to be funny? Oh, my God, you’re not. That was
actually the nicest thing you could think of to say.’
He dabbed at his bloody forehead with a finger. ‘Ow.
That hurts.’
‘ O f course.’
T will have to seal it. You know all about this dwarf
talent, I suppose.’
‘Naturally,’ said Artemis, keeping a straight face. ‘I’ve
seen it a dozen times.’
T doubt it,’ grunted Mulch, plucking a wiggling beard
hair from his chin. ‘But I don’t have much choice, now do
I? With the LEP elf in dreamland, I won’t be getting any
magical help from that quarter.’
Artemis heard a rustling in the undergrowth at the rear
of the cage. ‘You’d better hurry it up. I think the gorilla is
overcoming its fear of fairies.’
Wincing, Mulch introduced the beard hair to his gash.
It took off like a tadpole, poking through the skin, stitching
the flaps together.Though he groaned and shuddered, Mulch
managed to stay conscious.
When the hair had finished its work, and the wound was
tied up tighter than a fly in a ball of spider’s web, Mulch
spat on his hand and rubbed the gooey mess on to the wound.
‘All sealed,’ he proclaimed, then upon seeing the glint in
Artemis’s eye: ‘Don’t get any ideas, Mud Boy.This only works

on dwarfs, and, what’s more, my beard hair only works on
me. You poke one of my lovelies into your skin and all you’II
get is an infection.’
The rustling in the undergrowth grew louder, and
Artemis Fowl decided to forego further information, which
was almost unheard of for him.
‘Time we were off. Can you seal the tunnel behind us?’
‘I can bring the whole lot down easy as pie. You’d better
take the lead though, there are better ways to go than being
buried alive in . . . shall we say, recyclings. Need I say
more?’
There was no need to say another syllable. Artemis
jumped into the hole, grabbed Holly’s shoulders and began
dragging her down the tunnel, past the blobs of luminous
spittle towards the proverbial light at the end. It was like
travelling through space towards the Milky Way.
The sounds of his own body were amplified. Gulping
breath, drumming heartbeat, the bend and creak of muscle
and sinew.
Holly rolled along easily, her suit hissing on the rough
surface like a nest of vipers. Or maybe there were snakes
down here, the way Artemis’s luck was going.
/ am trying to do something good for a change, he reminded
himself. And this is how the Fates reward me. A life of crime was
infinitely easier.
Surface noise was amplified by the tunnel’s acoustics.
The gorilla sounded furious now. Artemis could hear the
slap of fists on chest and an enraged huffing.

He realizes he has been tricked.
I lis theorizing was cut short by Mulch’s appearance in
tin tunnel, the spittle bandage on his forehead casting a
zombie glow on his face.
(rorilla coming,’ he said as he gulped down lungfuls of
in ‘(iotta go.’
Artemis heard twin thumps as the gorilla landed on
the I unnel floor. The huge simian roared a challenge down
tin hole and the noise grew in ferocity with every metre
ii travelled.
I lolly moaned and Artemis pulled harder on her
ihoulders.
Mulch sucked down air as fast as he could, bundling
Artemis and Holly deeper into the tunnel. Twenty metres
to go. They would never make it. The gorilla was advancing,
pulverizing each spittle lantern as he passed it, roaring with
hloodlust. Artemis swore he saw a flash of teeth.
The tunnel seemed to shudder with each blow. Large
sections collapsed. Mud and rock clattered down on
Artemis’s head and shoulders. Dirt pooled in Holly’s eye
sockets.
Mulch’s cheeks ballooned and he opened his lips the
merest fraction to speak. ‘OK,’ he said in a helium voice.
‘The tank is full.’
The dwarf gathered Artemis and Holly in his burly Popeye
arms and vented every bubble of air in his body. The resulting
j e t stream propelled the group down the length of the
tunnel.The trip was short, jarring and confusing.The breath

was driven from Artemis’s lungs and his fingers were
stretched to cracking, but he would not let go of Holly.
He could not let her die.
The unfortunate gorilla was blown head-over-rump by
the windstorm, yanked back up the tunnel as though teth
ered to an elastic cable. It whooped as it went, digging its
fingers into the tunnel wall.
Artemis, Holly and Mulch popped from the tunnel
mouth, bouncing and skittering along the ditch in a tangle4
of limbs and torsos. The stars above them were speedstreaked
and the moon was a smear of yellow light.
An old famine wall halted their progress, crumbling
under the impact of three bodies.
‘For more than a hundred and fifty years this wall stood,’
coughed Artemis. ‘Then we come along.’
He lay on his back feeling thoroughly defeated. His
mother would die and Holly would soon hate him when
she worked out the truth.
All is lost. I have no idea what to do.
Then one of the notorious Rathdown pylons sharpened
in his vision — more specifically, the figures clambering
along its service ladder.
The lemur has escaped, thought Artemis, and is climbing as
high as it can.
A reprieve. There was still a chance.
What I need to save this situation is a full LEP surveillance and
assault kit. Perhaps I will have Number One send one back for me.
Artemis disentangled himself from the others and decided

thai underneath the pillar’s cornerstone would be a secure
•pot. He pulled off the remaining stones stacked on top,
\\ iggled his fingers under the final boulder and heaved. It
Came away easily, revealing nothing but worms and damp
c ,ndi. No package from the future; for whatever reason,
that particular trick would only work once.
So. No help. I must make do with what is available.
Artemis returned to where Holly and Mulch lay. Both
were moaning.
‘I think I split a gut getting rid of that wind,’ said Mulch.
‘There was a bit too much fear in the mix.’
Artemis’s nose wrinkled. ‘Will you be OK?’
‘Give me a minute and I’ll be plenty strong enough to
earry that huge amount of gold you promised me.’
Holly was groggy. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to pull
herself out of it and her arms flopped like fish out of water.
Artemis did a quick pulse and temperature check. Slight fever
but steady heartbeat. Holly was recovering, but it would be
several minutes before she could control her mind or body.
/ must do this on my own, Artemis realized. No Holly, no
Butler.
Just Artemis versus Artemis.
And perhaps an Omnitool, he thought, reaching into Holly’s
pocket.
The Rathdown electricity pylons had been featured in Irish
news headlines several times since their erection. Environmentalists
protested vehemently that the appearance of the

gigantic pylons blighted an otherwise beautiful valley, not to
mention the possible detrimental effect the uninsulated power
lines could have on the health of anyone or anything living
below their arcs. The national electricity board had coun
tered these arguments by pleading that the lines were too
high to harm anything and that constructing smaller pylons
around the valley would blight ten times more land.
And so a half a dozen of these metal giants bridged
Rathdown Valley, reaching a height of one hundred metres
at their zenith. The pylon bases were often ringed by
protesters, so much so that the power company had taken
to servicing the lines by helicopter.
On this night, as Artemis raced across the moonlit
meadow, kicking up diamond dewdrops, there were no
protesters ringing the pylons, but they had planted their
signs like moon flags. Artemis slalomed through this obstacle
course while simultaneously craning his neck to track the
figures above.
The lemur was on the wire now, silhouetted by the
moon, scampering easily along the metal cable, while
Artemis the younger and Butler were stranded on the small
platform at the pylon’s base, unable to venture any further.
Finally, thought Artemis, a stroke or two of luck.
Stroke one was that the lemur was suddenly up for grabs.
Stroke the second was that while his young nemesis had
chosen to follow the silky sifaka directly up the pylon the
animal was scaling, he himself could go up the adjacent
pole, which just happened to be the service pylon.

Artemis reached the pylon’s base, which was secured by
I cage. The heavy padlock submitted instantly to a quick
|ab from the Omnitool, as did the steel equipment locker.
I n s i d e were various tools, walkie-talkies and a Faraday suit.
Artemis tugged on the heavy overalls, wiggling his fingers
Into the attached gloves, tucking his long hair inside the
h o o d . The flame-retardant and steel-thread suit had to
enclose him completely to act as a protective Faraday cage.
< Mherwise he could not venture out on the wires without
being burned to a criminal-mastermind cinder.
More luck. An elevator platform ran up the side of the
pylon. It was locked and key-coded. But locks quailed when
laced with an Omnitool, and a key code was of little value
when it was a simple matter to unscrew the control panel
and activate the pulley manually.
Artemis held tight to the safety rail as the tiny elevator
shuddered and whined its way into the night sky. The valley
spread out below him as he rose and a westerly wind crept
over the hills, tugging a strand of hair from his hood.
Artemis gazed north, and for a fanciful moment imagined
he could see the lights of Fowl Manor.
Mother is there, he thought. Unwell now and unwell in the
future. Perhaps I can just talk to my younger self. Explain the
situation.
This thought was even more fanciful than the last.
Artemis had no illusions about what he had been like at
the age of ten. He had trusted no one completely but
himself. Not his parents, not even Butler. At the first

mention of time travel, his younger self would have his
bodyguard shoot a dart first and ask questions later. A lot
of questions and at great length. There was no time for
explanations and debate. This battle would have to be won
by wits and guile.
The elevator grated into its brackets at the top of the
pylon. A skull and crossbones sign was riveted to the tall
safety gate. Even if Artemis had not been a genius the sign
would have been difficult to misinterpret, and just in case
a total idiot did manage to scale the pylon there was a
second sign depicting a cartoon man being zapped by electricity
from a cartoon pylon. The man’s skeleton was clearly
visible, X-ray style.
Apparently electricity is dangerous, Artemis might have
commented had Butler been by his side.
There was yet another lock on the safety gate, which
delayed Artemis about as long as the first two. Outside the
safety gate was a small platform covered with wire mesh,
with twin power lines humming directly beneath.
There are half a million volts running through those lines,
thought Artemis. / do hope there are no rips in this suit.
Artemis squatted low, peering along the line. The lemur
had paused halfway between the two pylons and was chattering
to itself as if weighing up its options. Luckily for the
small creature, it was only touching one line, so no current
flowed through its body. If it put so much as a toe on the
second line the shock would spin it thirty metres into the
air and it would be stone dead before it stopped revolving.

On the far pylon, Artemis the younger scowled at the
animal, while simultaneously trying to tempt it back with
his bag of paste.
There is nothing to do but go out on the wires and bring the
lemur back yourself.
The hot suit was equipped for moving across the wires.
There was a safety cord wrapped round his waist and a lightning
rod in a long pocket on his thigh. Below the platform
was a small sledge on insulated runners that the engineers
used to hand-crank themselves between pylons.
Brains count for little now, he realized. What I need is balance.
Artemis groaned. Balance was not his forte.
Taking a deep breath, he crouched low, drawing the lightning
rod from his pocket. Almost as soon as it cleared the
material, jets of white-hot sparks jumped from the power
lines connecting with the tip of the rod. The stream buzzed
and hissed like a neon snake.
You are equalizing voltage, that’s all. The electricity cannot
hurt you.
Perhaps not, but Artemis could already feel the hair
standing on his neck. Was that anxiety, or were a couple
of volts sneaking in somewhere?
Don’t be absurd. If there is a hole, all the volts will worm
inside, not just a couple.
Artemis was vaguely familiar with the technique for wirewalking,
as the national broadcasting service had done a news
special on the high-wire daredevils who risked their lives to
keep the lights of Dublin burning. It wasn’t so much wire-

walking as wire-crawling. The cables were extremely taut
and the maintenance engineers clipped on their safety lines,
lay on the sledge, then turned the winch until they reached
the maintenance site.
Simple. In theory. For a professional on a calm morning.
Not so easy for an amateur in the dead of night with
only the stars and the ambient light of nearby Dublin to
guide him.
Artemis sheathed his lightning rod and gingerly clipped
his safety line to one of the cables.
He held his breath, as though that could possibly make
a difference, and laid his gloved hands on the metal sledge.
Still alive. A good start.
Artemis inched forward, the metal warm under his clumsy
gloved hands, until he was lying flat on the sledge with the
double-handled winch in front of his face. It was a delicate
manoeuvre and would have been impossible had the cables
not been tethered together at regular intervals. He began to
twist and almost immediately the strain on his arms was
tremendous as he moved his own body weight.
The gym. Butler,you were right. Til do weights, anything, just
get me off these cables with that lemur under my arm.
Artemis slid forward, feeling the runners scrape the
rough metal of the cables, their intense hum setting his
teeth on edge and sending constant shivers coursing along
his arched spine. The wind was low but still threatened to
topple him from his lofty perch and the ground seemed
like another planet. Distant and uninviting.
Ten metres later his arms ached and he was noticed by
the o p p o s i t i o n.
A v o i c e floated across from the other pylon. ‘I advise
you to stay where you are, young man. If that suit has the
tiniest rip, then one slip and those cables will liquefy your
I in and melt your bones/
Artemis scowled. Young man? Had he really been so
obnoxious? So patronizing?
4 It would take less than a second for you to die,’ continued
ten year-old Artemis. ‘But that’s quite long enough to be
in mortal agony, don’t you think? And all for nothing, as
the lemur will obviously return for this treat.’
Yes, he had been smug as well as obnoxious and
patronizing.
Artemis chose not to reply, concentrating his energy
on staying alive and enticing the silky sifaka towards him.
From his considerable reservoir of knowledge on just about
everything, Artemis plucked the fact that smaller simians
were comforted by a purring noise. Thank you, Jane
Goodall.
So he began to purr, much to the amusement of his
younger self.
‘Listen, Butler. There’s a cat on the wire. A big torn, I
would say. Perhaps you should throw him a fish.’
But the mocking tone was undercut with tension. Young
Artemis knew exactly what was going on.
More purring and it seemed to be working: the ghostly
sifaka took a few cautious steps towards the elder Artemis,

his beady black eyes glittering with starlight and perhaps
curiosity.
Holly would be proud. I am talking to an animal.
Even as he purred, Artemis winced at how ludicrous the
situation had become. It was a typical Fowlesque melodrama.
Two parties hunting for a lemur on the highest
power lines in Ireland.
Artemis looked along the dip of the lines across to the
other pylon, where Butler stood, jacket tail flapping around
his thighs. The bodyguard leaned into the wind, and the
intensity of his stare seemed to pierce the darkness, honing
in on Artemis the elder like a laser.
/ miss my bodyguard, thought Artemis.
The lemur scampered closer, encouraged by the purring
and perhaps fooled by the steel-grey hot suit.
That’s right. I am another lemur.
Artemis’s arms were shaking from the strain of turning
the handles at such an awkward angle. Every muscle in his
body was stretched to its limit, including several he had never
used before. His head was dizzy from keeping his balance.
All this and animal impersonations too.
One metre now. That was the distance between Artemis
and the lemur. There were no more taunts from the other
side. Artemis glanced across and found his nemesis had his
eyes closed and was breathing deeply. Trying to come up
with a plan.
The lemur jumped on to the sledge and touched
Artemis’s gloved hand tentatively. Contact. Artemis stayed
J o c k still, apart from his lips, which burbled out a
r o m l o r t i n g purr.
That’s it, little fellow. Climb on to my arm.
Artemis looked into the lemur’s eyes and for perhaps
the first time realized that it had emotions. There was fear
in lhose eyes, but also a mischievous confidence.
I low could I have sold you to those madmen? he wondered.
The lemur suddenly committed itself, scampering on to
Artemis’s shoulder. It seemed content to sit there while
Artemis ferried it back to the service pylon.
As Artemis retreated, he kept his eye fixed on his younger
self. He would never simply accept defeat like this. Neither
of them would. Young Artemis’s eyes suddenly snapped open
and met his nemesis’s stare.
‘Shoot the animal,’ he said coldly.
Butler was surprised. ‘Shoot the monkey.’
‘It’s a . . . never mind. Just shoot it. The man is protected
by his suit, but the lemur is an easy target.’
‘But the fall . . .’
‘ I f it dies, it dies. I will not be thwarted here, Butler. If
I cannot have that lemur, then no one will have it.’
Butler frowned. Killing animals was not in his job
description, but he knew from experience that there was
no point in arguing with the young master. At any rate, it
was a bit late to protest now, perched atop a pylon. He
should have spoken up more forcefully earlier.
‘Whenever you’re ready, Butler. The target is not getting
any closer.’

Out on the cables, Artemis the elder could scarcely
believe what he was hearing. Butler had drawn his pistol
and was climbing over the rails to get a better shot.
Artemis had not intended to speak, as interaction with
his younger self could have serious repercussions for the
future, but the words were out before he could stop them.
‘Stay back. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.’
Oh, the irony.
‘Ah, he speaks,’ called young Artemis across the abyss.
‘How fortunate that we can understand each other. Well,
understand this, stranger. I will have that silky sifaka or it
will die. Make no mistake.’
‘You must not do this. There’s too much at stake.’
‘I must do it. I have no choice. Now send the animal
over, or Butler will shoot.’
Through all of this, the lemur sat perched on fourteenyear-
old Artemis’s head, scratching the stitching of his hood.
So the two boys who were one boy, locked eyes for a
long tense moment.
/ would have done it, thought Artemis the elder, shocked
by the cruel determination in his own blue eyes.
And so he gingerly reached up one hand and plucked
the silky sifaka from his head.
‘You have to go back,’ he said softly. ‘Go back for the
nice treat. And, if I were you, I’d stick close to the big
human. The little one isn’t very nice.’
The lemur reached out and tweaked Artemis’s nose, much
as Beckett might have done, then turned and trotted along

the (able towards Butler, nose sniffing the air, nostrils flaring
18 (hey located the sweet scent of Artemis’s goodie bag.
In a matter of seconds it sat curled in the crook of young
Artemis’s elbow, contentedly dipping its long fingers into
the sap. The young boy’s face glowed with victory.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘I think it best that you stay exactly where
you are until we leave. I think fifteen minutes should be
line. After that, I advise you to be on your way and count
yourself fortunate that I did not have Butler sedate you.
Remember the pain that you are feeling now. The ache of
utter defeat and hopelessness. And, if you ever consider
crossing swords with me again, review your memory of
this pain, and perhaps you will think twice.’
Artemis the elder was forced to watch as Butler stuffed
the lemur into a duffel bag, and boy and bodyguard
commenced their climb down the service ladder. Several
minutes later, the Bentley’s headlights scythed the darkness
as the car pulled away from Rathdown Park and on to the
motorway. Straight to the airport, no doubt.
Artemis reached up and gripped the winch handles. He
was not beaten yet, far from it. He intended to cross swords
with his ten-year-old self again just as soon as he possibly
could. If anything, the boy’s mocking speech had fuelled
his determination.
Remember the pain? thought Artemis. / hate myself. I really
do.

CHAPTER 8: A BLOB OF
PHLEGItl 81

Brixney

Esto es parte de mi obra personal dedicada a Britney , jajaja: