Free Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer Page A

easily catch up with the fairy brand.
    Root strapped himself into the pod. No half-century-old crafts for the commander. This baby was fresh off the assembly line. All silver and shiny, with the new jagged fin stabilizers that were supposed to read the magma currents automatically. Foaly’s innovation, of course. For a century or so his pod designs had leaned toward the futuristic— plenty of neon and rubber. Lately, however, his sensibilities had become more retrospective, replacing the gadgetry with walnut dashes and leather upholstery. Root found this old style decor strangely comforting.
    He wrapped his fingers around the joysticks and suddenly realized just how long it had been since he had ridden the hotshots . Foaly noticed his discomfort.
    “Don’t worry, chief,” he said without the usual cynicism. “It’s like riding a unicorn. You never forget.”
    Root grunted, unconvinced. “Let’s get the show on the road,” he muttered. “Before I change my mind.”
    Foaly hauled the door across until the suction ring took hold, sealing the portal with a pneumatic hiss. Root’s face took on a green hue through the quartz pane. He didn’t look too scary anymore. Quite the opposite in fact.
    Artemis was performing a little field surgery on the fairy locator. It was no mean feat to alter some of the dimensions without destroying the mechanisms. The technologies were most definitely incompatible. Imagine trying to perform open-heart surgery with a sledgehammer.
    The first problem was opening the cursed thing. The screwheads defied both flathead and Phillips screwdrivers. Even Artemis’s extensive set of Allen wrenches were unable to find purchase in the tiny grooves. Think futuristic, Artemis told himself. Think advanced technology.
    It came to him after a few moments of silent contemplation. Magnetic bolts. Obvious, really. But how to construct a revolving magnetic field in the back of a four-wheel drive? Impossible. The only thing for it was to chase the screws around manually with a domestic magnet.
    Artemis hunted the small magnet from its niche in the toolbox and applied both poles to the tiny screws. The negative side wiggled them slightly. It was enough to give Artemis some room to maneuver with needlenose pliers, and he soon had the locator’s panel disassembled before him.
    The circuitry was minute. And not a sign of a solder bead. They must use another form of binder. Perhaps if he had time the principles of this device could be unraveled, but for now he would have to improvise. He would have to rely on the inattention of others. And if the People were anything like humans, they saw what they wanted to see.
    Artemis held the locator’s face up to the cab’s light. It was translucent. Slightly polarized but good enough. He nudged a slew of tiny shimmering wires aside, inserting a buttonhole camera in the space. He secured the pea-sized transmitter with a dab of silicone. Crude but effective. Hopefully.
    The magnetic screws refused to be coaxed back into their grooves without the proper tool, so Artemis was forced to glue them too. Messy, but it should suffice, provided the locator wasn’t examined too closely. And if it was? Well, he would only lose an advantage that he never expected to have in the first place.
    Butler knocked off his high beams as they entered the city limits. “Dock’s coming up, Artemis,” he said over his shoulder. “There’s bound to be a Customs and Excise crew around somewhere.”
    Artemis nodded. It made sense. The port was a thriving artery of illegal activity. Over fifty percent of the country’s contraband made it ashore somewhere along this half-mile stretch.
    “A diversion then, Butler. Two minutes are all I need.”
    The manservant nodded thoughtfully.
    “The usual?”
    “I don’t see why not. Knock yourself out. . . . Or rather don’t.”
    Artemis blinked. That was his second joke in recent times. And his first aloud. Better take care. This was no time for