Artemis Fowl - 03 - Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code by Eoin Colfer

Author:Eoin Colfer
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy, Young Adult
ISBN: 9780786814930
Publisher: Hyperion Books for Children
Published: 2003-08-14T10:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9: GHOSTS IN THE MACHINE

VACANT LOT, MALTHOUSE INDUSTRIAL ESTATE, SOUTH CHICAGO

JON Spiro had not hired Pex and Chips for their debating skills. In the job interview they had only been set one task. A hundred applicants were handed a walnut and asked to smash it however they could. Only two succeeded. Pex had shouted at the walnut for a few minutes, then flattened it between his giant palms. Chips opted for a more controversial method. He placed the walnut on the table, grabbed his interviewer by the ponytail and used the man’s forehead to smash the nut. Both men were hired on the spot. They quickly established themselves as Arno Blunt’s most reliable lieutenants for in-house work. They were not allowed outside Chicago as this could involve map reading – something Pex and Chips were not very good at.

At the moment, Pex and Chips were bonding under a full moon while Mulch dug a dwarf-sized pit in the dry clay behind an abandoned cement factory.

‘You wanna guess why they call me Pex?’ asked Pex, flexing his chest muscles as a hint.

Chips opened a packet of the potato chips he was forever crunching.

‘I dunno. Is it, like, short for something?’

‘Like what?’

‘I dunno,’ said Chips. He used the phrase a lot. ‘Francis?’

This sounded dumb, even to Pex. ‘Francis? How could Pex be short for Francis?’

Chips shrugged. ‘Hey. I had an Uncle Robert and everyone called him Bobby. That don’t make no sense neither.’

Pex rolled his eyes. ‘It’s pec-tor-als, moron. Pex is short for pectorals, on account of me having big chest muscles.’

In the pit, Mulch groaned. Listening to this mindless banter was almost as bad as having to dig a hole with a shovel. Mulch was tempted to deviate from the plan and launch himself into the flaky soil. But Artemis did not want any display of fairy powers at this stage of the proceedings. If he took off, and these goons escaped without being mesmerized, then Spiro’s paranoia would be driven up another notch.

On the surface, Chips was eager to continue the game.

‘Guess why they call me Chips,’ he said, hiding the bag of chips behind his back.

Pex kneaded his forehead. He knew this one.

‘Don’t tell me,’ he said. ‘I can work it out.’

Mulch poked his head from the hole. ‘It’s because he eats chips, you idiot. Chips eats chips. You two are the thickest Mud Men I have ever met. Why don’t you just kill me? At least I won’t have to listen to your drivel.’

Pex and Chips were stunned. With all the mental exercise, they had almost forgotten about the little man in the hole. Plus, they were unaccustomed to prospective victims saying anything besides, ‘Oh no, please, God, no.’

Pex leaned over the grave’s lip. ‘What do you mean drivel?’

‘I mean that whole Chips Pex thing.’

Pex shook his head. ‘No, I mean what does the word “drivel” mean? I’ve never heard that one.’

Mulch was delighted to explain. ‘It means rubbish, garbage, claptrap, twaddle, baloney. Is that clear enough for you?’

Chips recognized the last one.

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