Artemis Fowl. The Arctic Incident af-2

by Eoin Colfer

  ‘No, I know what it means,’ replied Artemis. ‘Zdravstvuy, syn: Hello, son.’

  Butler pulled the Bentley on to the dual carriageway. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Eventually Butler had to ask.

  ‘Do you think it’s him, Artemis? Could that man be your father?’

  Artemis rewound the MPEG, freezing it on the mysterious man’s face.

  He touched the display, sending rainbow distortions across the screen.

  ‘I think so, Butler. But the picture quality is too poor. I can’t be certain.’

  Butler understood the emotions battering his young charge. He too had lost someone aboard the Fowl Star. His uncle, the Major, had been assigned to Artemis’s father on that fateful trip. Unfortunately, the Major’s body had turned up in theTchersky morgue.

  Artemis regained his composure. ‘I must pursue this, Butler.’

  ‘You know what’s coming next, of course?’

  ‘Yes. A ransom demand. This is merely the teaser, to get my attention. I need to cash in some of the People’s gold. Contact Lars in Zurich immediately.’

  Butler accelerated into the fast lane.

  ‘Master Artemis, I have had some experience in these matters.’

  Artemis did not interrupt. Butler’s career before his current charge’s birth had been varied to say the least.

  ‘The pattern with kidnappers is to eliminate all witnesses. Then they will generally try to eliminate each other to avoid splitting the ransom.’

  ‘Your point being?’

  ‘My point being that paying a ransom in no way guarantees your father’s safety. If indeed that man is your father. It is quite possible that the kidnappers will take your money and then kill all of us.’

  Artemis studied the screen. ‘You’re right, of course. I will have to devise a plan.’

  Butler swallowed. He remembered the last plan. It had almost got them both killed, and could have plunged the planet into a cross-species war. Butler was a man who didn’t scare easily, but the spark in Artemis Fowl’s eyes was enough to send a shiver crackling down his spine.

  CHUTE TERMINAL EI: TARA, IRELAND

  Captain Holly Short had decided to work a double shift and proceed directly to the surface. She paused only for a nutri-bar and energy shake before hopping on the first shuttle to the terminal at Tara.

  One of Tara’s officials was not making her journey any easier. The head of security was annoyed that Captain Short had not only put all chute traffic on hold to take a priority pod from El, but had then proceeded to commandeer an entire shuttle for the return journey.

  ‘Why don’t you check your system again?’ said Holly, through gritted teeth. ‘I’m sure the authorization from Police Plaza has arrived by now.’

  The truculent gnome consulted his hand-held computer. ‘No, ma’am. I ain’t got nuthin.’

  ‘Look, Mister. ’

  ‘Commandant Terryl.’

  ‘Commandant Terryl. I’m on an important mission here. National security. I need you to keep the arrivals hall completely clear for the next couple of hours.’

  Terryl made a great show of almost collapsing. ‘The next coupl’a hours!

  Are you crazy, girly? I got three shuttles comin’ in from Atlantis. What’m I s’posed to tell ‘em? Tour’s off ‘cause of some LEP secret shenanigans. This is high season. I can’t just shut things down. No way, no how.’

  Holly shrugged. ‘Fine. You just let all your tourists catch sight of the two humans I’m bringing down here. There’ll be a riot. I guarantee it.’

  ‘Two humans?’ said the head of security. ‘Inside the terminal? Are you nuts?’

  Holly was running out of patience, and time. ‘Do you see this?’ she demanded, pointing to the insignia on her helmet. ‘I’m LEP. A captain. No rent-a-cop gnome is going to stand in the way of my orders.’

  Terryl drew himself up to his full height, which was about seventy centimetres. ‘Yeah, I heard a you. The crazy girly captain. Caused quite a stir up here last year, didn’t you? My tax ingots gonna be payin’ for that little screw-up for quite some time.’

  ‘Just ask Central, you bureaucratic idiot.’

  ‘Call me what you want, missy. We have our rules here, and without confirmation from below, ain’t nuthin I can do to change ‘em. ‘Specially not fer some gun-totin’ girly with an attitude problem.’

  ‘Well get on the blower to Police Plaza then!’

  Terryl sniffed. ‘The magma flares have just started actin’ up. It’s hard to get a line. Maybe I’ll try again, after my rounds. Just you take yourself a seat in the departure lounge.’

  Holly’s hand strayed towards her buzz baton.

  ‘You know what you’re doing, don’t you?’

  ‘What?’ croaked the gnome.

  ‘You’re obstructing an LEP operation.’

  ‘I ain’t obstructin’ nuthin

  ‘And, as such, it is in my power to remove said obstruction using any force that I deem necessary.’

  ‘Don’t you threaten me, missy.’

  Holly drew the baton, twirling it expertly. ‘I’m not threatening you. I’m just informing you of police procedure. If you continue to obstruct me, I remove the obstruction, in this case you, and proceed to the next in command.’

  Terryl was unconvinced. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  Holly grinned. ‘I’m the crazy girly captain. Remember?’

  The gnome considered it. It was unlikely the officer would buzz him, but then again who knew with female elves?

  ‘OK,’ he said, printing off a sheet on the computer. ‘This is a twenty-four-hour visa. But if you’re not back here in that time, I’ll have you taken into custody on your return. Then I’ll be the one making the threats.’

  Holly snatched the sheet. ‘Whatever. Now, remember, make sure Arrivals is clear when I get back.’

  IRELAND, EN ROUTE FROM ST BARTLEBY’S TO FOWL MANOR

  Artemis was bouncing ideas off Butler. It was a technique he often used when trying to come up with a plan. After all, if anybody was an expert on covert operations, it was his bodyguard.

  ‘We can’t trace the MPEG?’

  ‘No, Artemis. I tried. They put a decay virus in with the e-mail. I only just managed to get the film on disk before the original disintegrated.’

  ‘What about the MPEG itself? Could we get a geographical fix from the stars?’

  Butler smiled. Young Master Artemis was starting to think like a soldier.

  ‘No luck. I sent a shot to a friend of mine in NASA. He didn’t even bother putting it into the computer. Not enough definition.’

  Artemis was silent for a minute.

  ‘How fast can we get to Russia?’

  Butler drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘It depends.’

  ‘Depends on what?’

  ‘On how we go, legal or illegal.’

  ‘Which is quicker?’

  Butler laughed. Something you didn’t hear very often. ‘Illegal is usually faster. Either way is going to be pretty slow. We can’t go by air, that’s for sure.

  The Mafiya are going to have foot soldiers at every airstrip.’

  ‘Are we sure it’s the Mafiya?’

  Butler glanced in the rear-view mirror. ‘I’m afraid so. All kidnappings go through the Mafiya. Even if an ordinary criminal managed to abduct your father, he would have to hand him over once the Mafiya had found out about it.’

  Artemis nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. So we will have to travel by sea, and that will take a week at the very least. We could really use some help with transport.

  Something the Mafiya won’t expect. How’s our ID situation?’

  ‘No problem. I thought we’d go native. We’ll arouse less suspicion. I have passports and visas.’

  ‘Da. What is our cover?’

  ‘What about Stefan Bashkir and his Uncle Constantin?’

  ‘Perfect. The chess prodigy and his chaperone.’ They had used this cover many times before on previous search m
issions. Once, a checkpoint official, himself a chess grandmaster, had doubted their story until Artemis beat him in six moves. The technique had since become known as the Bashkir Manoeuvre.

  ‘How soon can we leave?’

  ‘Almost immediately. Missus Fowl and Juliet are in Nice this week. That gives us eight days. We can mail the school, make up some excuse.’

  ‘I dare say St Bartleby’s will be glad to be rid of me for a while.’

  ‘We could go straight to the airport from Fowl Manor. The Lear jet is stocked. At least we can fly as far as Scandinavia and we can try to pick up a boat from there. I just have to pick up a few things at the manor first.’

  Artemis could imagine exactly the kind of things his manservant wished to pick up. Sharp things and explosive things.

  ‘Good. The sooner the better. We’ve got to find these people before they know we’re looking. We can monitor e-mail as we go.’

  Butler took the exit for Fowl Manor.

  ‘You know, Artemis,’ he said, glancing in the mirror. ‘We’re going up against the Russian Mafiya. I’ve had dealings with these people before. They don’t negotiate. This could get bloody. If we take these gangsters on, people are going to get hurt. Most likely us.’

  Artemis nodded absently, watching his own reflection in the window. He needed a plan. Something audacious and brilliant. Something that had never been attempted before. Artemis was not unduly worried on that front. His brain had never let him down.

  TARA SHUTTLE PORT

  The fairy shuttle port at Tara was an impressive operation. Ten thousand cubic metres of terminal concealed beneath an overgrown hillock in the middle of the McGraney farm.

  For centuries, the McGraneys had respected the fairy fort’s boundaries and, for centuries, they had enjoyed exceptional good luck. Illnesses mysteriously cleared up overnight. Priceless art treasures unearthed themselves with incredible regularity, and mad cow disease seemed to avoid their herds altogether.

  Having solved her visa problem, Holly finally made her way to the security door and slipped through the holographic camouflage. She had managed to secure a set of Koboi DoubleDex for the trip. The rig ran on a satellite-bounced solar battery, and employed a revolutionary wing design.There were two sets, or decks; one fixed for gliding, and a smaller set for manoeuvrability. Holly had been dying to try out the DoubleDex, but only a few rigs had made their way across from Koboi Labs. Foaly was reluctant to let them out because he hadn’t designed them. Professional envy. Holly had taken advantage of his absence from the lab to swipe a set from the rack.

  She soared fifteen metres above the ground, allowing unfiltered surface air to fill her lungs. Though laden with pollutants, it was still sweeter than the recycled tunnel variety. For several minutes, she enjoyed the experience, before turning her concentration to the mission at hand: how to abduct Artemis Fowl.

  Not from his home, Fowl Manor, that was for certain. Legally, she put herself on very shaky ground by entering a dwelling without permission. Even though, technically, Fowl had invited her in by kidnapping her last year. Not many lawyers would take your case on the basis of that defence. Anyway, the manor was a virtual fortress and had already seen off an entire LEPretrieval team. Why should she fare any better?

  There was also the complication that Artemis could very welt be expecting her, especially if he was trading with the B’wa Kell.The idea of walking into a trap did not appeal to Holly. She had already been imprisoned once in Fowl Manor. Doubtless her cell was still furnished.

  Holly activated the computer navigation package, calling up Fowl Manor on her helmet visor. A soft crimson light began to blip beside the 3D plan of the house. The building had been red-flagged by the LEP. Holly groaned. Now she would be treated to a video warning, just in case there was one Recon officer under the world who had not heard of Artemis Fowl.

  Corporal Lili Frond’s face appeared on the screen. Of course they chose Lili for this assignment. The bimbo face of the LEP. Sexism was alive and well and living in Police Plaza. It was rumoured that Frond’s LEP scores had been bumped up because of her descendancy from the elfin king.

  ‘You have selected Fowl Manor,’ said Frond’s image, fluttering her eyelids. ‘This is a red-flagged building. Unauthorized access is strictly forbidden. Do not even attempt a fly-over. Artemis Fowl is considered an active threat to the People.’

  A picture of Fowl appeared beside Frond, a digitally enhanced scowl on his face.

  ‘His accomplice, known only as Butler, is not to be approached under any circumstances. He is generally armed and always dangerous.’

  Butler’s massive head appeared beside the two other images. Armed and dangerous hardly did him justice. He was the only human in history to have taken on a troll and won.

  Holly sent the co-ordinates to the flight computer and let the wings do the steering for her. The countryside sped by below. Even since her last visit, the Mud People infestation seemed to have taken a stronger hold. There was barely an acre of land without dozens of their dwellings digging into its soil, and barely a mile of river without one of their factories pouring its poison into the waters.

  The sun finally dipped below the horizon and Holly raised the filters on her visor. Time was on her side now. She had the entire night to come up with a plan. Holly found that she missed Foaly’s sarcastic comments in her ear.

  Annoying as the centaur’s observations were, they generally proved accurate and had saved her hide on more than one occasion. She tried to establish a link, but the flares were still high and there was no reception. Nothing but static.

  Fowl Manor loomed in the distance, completely dominating the surrounding landscape. Holly scanned the building with her thermal bar and found nothing but insect and small rodent life forms. Spiders and mice.

  Nobody home. That suited her fine. She landed on the head of a particularly gruesome stone gargoyle, and settled in to wait.

  FOWL MANOR, DUBLIN, IRELAND

  The original Fowl castle had been built by Lord Hugh Fowl in the fifteenth century, overlooking low-lying country on all sides. A tactic borrowed from the Normans: never let your enemies sneak up on you. Over the centuries, the castle had been extensively remodelled until it became a manor, but the attention to security remained. The manor was surrounded by metre-thick walls, and wired with a state-of-the-art security system.

  Butler pulled off the road, opening the estate gates with a remote. He glanced back at his employer’s pensive face. Sometimes he thought that, in spite of all his contacts, informants and employees, Artemis Fowl was the loneliest boy he’d ever met.

  ‘We could bring a couple of those fairy blasters,’ he said.

  Butler had relieved LEPretrieval One of their weaponry during the previous year’s siege.

  Artemis nodded. ‘Good idea, but remove the nuclear batteries and put the blasters in a bag with some old games and books. We can pretend they’re toys if we’re captured.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Good thinking.’

  The Bentley Red Label crunched up the driveway, activating the ground’s security lights. There were several lamps on in the main house.

  These were on randomly alternating timers.

  Butler undid his seat belt, stepping lithely from the Bentley.

  ‘You need anything special, Artemis?’

  Artemis nodded. ‘Grab some caviar from the kitchen. You wouldn’t believe the muck they feed us in Bartleby’s for ten thousand a term.’

  Butler smiled again. A teenager asking for caviar. He’d never get used to it.

  The smile withered on his lips halfway to the recently remodelled entrance. A shiver passed across his heart. He knew that feeling well. His mother used to say that someone had just walked over his grave. A sixth sense. Gut instinct. There was peril somewhere. Invisible, but here nevertheless.

  Holly spotted the headlights raking the sky from over a mile away. Optix were no good from this vantage point. Even when the automobile’s windscreen came into view, the glass
was tinted and the shadows beyond were deep. She felt her heart rate increase at the sight of Fowl’s car.

  The Bentley wound along the avenue, flickering between the rows of willow and horse chestnut. Holly ducked instinctively, though she was completely shielded from human eyes. You couldn’t be certain with Artemis

  Fowl’s manservant. Last year Artemis had cannibalized a fairy helmet, constructing an eyepiece that allowed Butler to spot and neutralize an entire crack squad of LEPretrieval commandos. It was hardly likely that he was wearing the lens at the moment but, as Trouble Kelp and his boys had learned, it didn’t pay to underestimate Artemis or his manservant.

  Holly set the Neutrino to slightly above the recommended stun setting.

  A couple of Butler’s brain cells might get fried, but she wasn’t about to lose any sleep over it.

  The car swung into the driveway, crunching across the gravel. Butler climbed out. Holly felt her back teeth grinding. Once upon a time, she had saved his life, healing him after a mortal encounter with a troll. She wasn’t sure if she’d do it again.

  Holding her breath, LEPrecon Captain Holly Short set the DoubleDex to slow descent. She dropped soundlessly, skimming past the storeys, and aimed her weapon at Butler’s chest. Now there was a target a sun-blinded dwarf couldn’t miss.

  The human couldn’t have detected her presence. Not possible. Yet something made him pause. He stopped and sniffed the air. The Mud Man was like a dog. No, not a dog, a wolf. A wolf with a big handgun.

  Holly focused her helmet lens on the weapon, sending a photo to her computer database. Moments later, a hi-res rotating 3D image of the gun appeared in the corner of her visor.

  ‘Sig Sauer,’ said a recorded byte of Foaly’s voice. ‘Nine millimetre.

  Thirteen in the magazine. Big bullets. One of these hits you and it could blow your head off; something even the magic can’t fix. Other than that you should be all right, presuming you remembered to wear the regulation above-ground micro-fibre jumpsuit recently patented by me. Then again, being a Recon jock, you probably didn’t.’