Holly floated the group outside and they would have been whipped away had Butler not held on for a second.

'Go with the wind,' he shouted to Holly, releasing his grip. 'Make your descent gradual.'

Holly nodded. Her wing motor skipped a beat and they dropped two metres.

Artemis's stomach lurched.

'Butler,' he called, his voice thin and childlike in the wind.

'Yes, Artemis, what?'

'If something goes wrong, wait for me. No matter how it looks, I will return. I will bring them all back.'

Butler nearly jumped out after them. 'What are you planning, Artemis? What are you going to do?'

Artemis called back, but the wind caught his words, and his bodyguard could only stand framed by steel and gla.s.s, shouting into the wind.

They dropped quickly. A bit more quickly than Holly would have liked.

The wings can't take it, she realized. Not the weight and the wind. We're not going to make it Not the weight and the wind. We're not going to make it.

She rapped a knuckle on Artemis's head. 'Artemis!' she shouted.

'I know,' shouted the Irish boy. 'Too much weight.'

If they fell now, the bomb would detonate in the middle of Taipei. That was unacceptable. There was only one thing to do. Artemis had not even mentioned this option to Butler, as he knew the bodyguard would reject it no matter how sound his own reasoning.

Before Artemis had time to act on his theory, Holly's wings spluttered, jerked and died. They fell in ragged free fall like a sack of anchors, head over heels, dangerously close to the skysc.r.a.per wall.

Artemis's eyes were scalded by wind, his limbs were folded back to breaking point by rushing air, and his cheeks were ballooned to comical proportions, though there was nothing funny about falling hundreds of metres to a certain death.

No! said Artemis's iron core. said Artemis's iron core. I will not let this be the end I will not let this be the end.

With a grim and physical determination that he must have picked up from Butler, Artemis raised his arms and grabbed No1's arm. The object he sought was right there, almost in his face, and yet it seemed impossible to reach.

Impossible or not, I must reach it.

It was like trying to push against the skin of a giant balloon, but push Artemis did.

The ground rushed up from below, smaller skysc.r.a.pers jutting up like spears. And still Artemis pushed.

Finally, his fingers closed round No1's silver bracelet.

Goodbye, world, he thought. One way or another One way or another.

And he ripped the bracelet off, flinging it into the air. Now, the demonkind were no longer anch.o.r.ed to this dimension. For a second there was no obvious reaction to this, but then, just as they were pa.s.sing between the first of the lower skysc.r.a.pers, a revolving purple trapezoid opened in the sky and swallowed them as neatly as a kid catching a Cheerio in his mouth.

Butler staggered back from the window, trying to process what he had seen. Holly's wings had failed, that much was clear, but then what? What?

It dawned on him suddenly. Artemis must have had a secondary plan; that boy always did. Artemis wouldn't go to the bathroom without a back-up. So they weren't dead. There was a good chance of that. They had just disappeared into the demon dimension. He would have to keep telling himself that until he believed it.

Butler noticed that Minerva was crying.

'They're all dead, aren't they? Because of me.'

Butler placed a hand on her shoulder. 'If they were all dead, it would be because of you, but they're not Artemis has everything under control. Now, chin up, we have to talk our way out of here, daughter.'

Minerva frowned. 'Daughter?'

Butler winked, though he felt anything but cheery. 'Yes, daughter.'

Seconds later a squad of Taiwanese regular police heaved open the door, flooding the room with blue and grey uniforms. Butler found himself looking down the barrels of a dozen police special pistols. Most of these barrels were wobbling slightly.

'No, you dolts,' squealed Mr Lin, threading his way through the policemen, slapping at their gun arms. 'Not that one. He is my good friend. Those other ones, the unconscious ones. They are the ones who broke in here; they knocked me down. It is a miracle my friend and his...'

'Daughter,' prompted Butler.

'And his daughter were not harmed.'

Then the curator noticed his demolished exhibit and faked a faint. When no one rushed to aid him, he picked himself up, went off into a corner and had a little cry.

An inspector, who wore his gun cowboy-style, ambled across to Butler.

'You did this?'

'No. Not me. We were hiding behind a crate. They blew up the sculpture then started fighting among themselves.'

'Do you have any idea why these people would want to destroy a sculpture?'

Butler shrugged. 'I think they think they're anarchists. Who knows with these people.'

'They have no ID,' said the inspector. 'Not one of them. I find that a bit strange.'

Butler smiled bitterly. After all Billy Kong had done, he would only be prosecuted for property damage. Of course, they could mention the kidnapping, but that would lead to weeks, possibly months of red tape in Taiwan. And Butler did not particularly want anyone looking too deeply into his past, or indeed the selection of false pa.s.sports in his jacket pocket.

Then something struck him. Something about Kong from a conversation back in Nice.

Kong used a kitchen knife on his friend, Foaly had said. There's still a warrant out for him there, under the name Jonah Lee There's still a warrant out for him there, under the name Jonah Lee.

Kong was wanted for murder in Taiwan, Butler realized, and there was no statute of limitations on murder.

'I heard them talking to that one,' said Butler, pointing to the supine Billy Kong. 'They called him Mister Lee, or Jonah. He was the boss.'

The inspector was interested. 'Oh, really. Did you hear anything else? Sometimes the smallest detail can be important.'

Butler frowned, thinking about it. 'One of them said something, I don't even know what it means...'

'Go on,' urged the inspector.

'He said... let me think. He said, You're not such a tough guy, Jonah. You haven't notched your barrel in years You're not such a tough guy, Jonah. You haven't notched your barrel in years. What does that mean, notching your barrel notching your barrel?'

The inspector pulled a mobile phone from his pocket. 'It means that man is a murder suspect.' He hit 'one' then speed dial. 'Base? Chan here. I need you to run the name Jonah Lee through records - go back a few years.' He closed the phone. 'Thanks, Mister... ?'

'Arnott,' said Butler. 'Franklin Arnott, New York City.'

He had been using the Arnott pa.s.sport for several years. It was genuinely rumpled.

'Thanks, Mister Arnott, you may just have caught a murderer.'

Butler blinked. 'A murderer! Wow. Do you hear that, Eloise? Daddy caught a murderer.'

'Well done, Daddy,' said Eloise Eloise, looking unhappy with Daddy for some reason.

The inspector turned to pursue his inquiries, then stopped.

'The curator said there was another person. A boy. A friend of yours?'

'Yes. And no. He's my son. Arty.'

'I don't see him around.'

'He just stepped out, but he'll be back.'

'Are you sure?'

Butler's eyes lost their focus. 'Yes, I'm sure. He told me.'

CHAPTER 13: OUT OF TIME.

THE journey between dimensions was more violent than Artemis remembered. There was no time to reflect on various scenery changes, and barely time for his senses to register sights, sounds or temperature changes. They were ripped from their own dimension and dragged through wormholes of s.p.a.ce and time with only their consciousnesses intact. Only once did they materialize for the briefest second. journey between dimensions was more violent than Artemis remembered. There was no time to reflect on various scenery changes, and barely time for his senses to register sights, sounds or temperature changes. They were ripped from their own dimension and dragged through wormholes of s.p.a.ce and time with only their consciousnesses intact. Only once did they materialize for the briefest second.

The landscape was grey, bleak and pockmarked, and in the distance Artemis could see a blue planet camouflaged by cloud cover.

I'm on the moon, thought Artemis, then they were gone again, drawn by the lure of Hybras.

It was an unnatural feeling, this out-of-body, out-of-mind travel. How am I still aware? How am I still aware? thought Artemis. thought Artemis. How is any of this possible? How is any of this possible?

And stranger still, when he concentrated, Artemis could feel the thoughts of the others swirling around him. It was mostly broad emotions, such as fear or excitement. But after a bit of mental twiddling, Artemis detected specific thoughts too.

There was Holly, wondering if her weapon would arrive intact. Typical soldier. And there was No1, fretting incessantly, not about the journey itself but about someone who would be waiting for him in Hybras. Abbot.A demon named Abbot.

Artemis reached out and found Qwan floating in the ether. His mind was formidable, juggling complex computations and philosophical puzzles.

You are keeping the mind active, young human.

Artemis's consciousness realized that this thought was directed at him. The warlock had felt his clumsy probe.

Artemis could feel a difference between his mind and the others. They had something different. An alien energy. It was difficult to explain a feeling without senses, but for some reason it seemed to be blue. A blue plasma, electric and alive. Artemis allowed this rich feeling to flow through his mind and was instantly jolted by its energy.

Magic, he realized. Magic is in the mind Magic is in the mind. Now this was something worth knowing. Artemis retreated to his own mind-s.p.a.ce, but he took a sample of the blue plasma with him. You never know when a touch of magic would come in useful.

They materialized on Hybras, inside the crater itself. Their arrival was accompanied by a flash of displaced energy. The group lay on the soot-blackened slopes, panting and steaming. The ground beneath them was warm to the touch, and the acrid stink of sulphur stung their nostrils. The euphoria of materialization soon dissipated.

Artemis breathed experimentally, the air from his mouth blowing up small dust eddies. Volcanic gas made his eyes water, and flat flakes of ash instantly coated every exposed patch of skin.

'This could be h.e.l.l,' he commented.

'h.e.l.l or Hybras,' said No1, climbing to his knees. 'I got some of this ash on a tunic before. It never comes out.'

Holly was up too, running a systems check on her equipment.

'My Neutrino is fine. But I can't get a lock on a communications signal. We're on our own. And I seem to have lost the bomb.'

Artemis kneeled, his knees cracking through the ash crust, releasing the heat below. He glanced at his watch and caught sight of his own face. His hair was grey with ash, and for a second he thought he was looking at his father.

A thought struck him. I look like my father, a father I may never see again. Mother. Butler. I have only one friend left I look like my father, a father I may never see again. Mother. Butler. I have only one friend left.

'Holly,' he said. 'Let me look at you.'

Holly did not look up from her wrist computer.

'No time right now, Artemis.'

Artemis padded across to her, walking gingerly on the thin crust.

'Holly, let me look at you,' he said again, holding her shoulders.

Something in Artemis's voice made Holly stop what she was doing and pay attention. This was not a tone Artemis Fowl used very often. It could almost cla.s.s as tenderness.

'I just need to make sure you're still you. Things get mixed up between dimensions. On my last trip, I switched fingers.'

He held up his hand for her to see. 'Strange, I know. But you seem to be fine. All present and correct.'

Something flashed in the corner of Artemis's eye. There was a metal case half buried in the ash further up the crater wall.

'The bomb,' sighed Artemis. 'I thought we'd lost it in transit. There was a flash when we landed.'

Qwan hurried across to the bomb. 'No. That was energy displacement. Mostly mine. Magic is almost another being. It flows where it will. Some of mine did not flow back to me in time, and ignited on re-entry. I am happy to say that the rest of my power is fired up and ready to go.'

Artemis was struck by how much of this prehistoric being's language was similar to NASA jargon. No wonder we don't have a chance against the fairies No wonder we don't have a chance against the fairies, he thought. They were solving dimensional equations when we were still knocking stones together They were solving dimensional equations when we were still knocking stones together.