by Colfer, Eoin
Artemis was heading back to St Bartleby’s. This was where he had to be when the Helsinki medical services identified his father from the suitably weathered passport Foaly had run up for him.
Holly had done her best for the injured man, healing his chest wound and even restoring sight to his blinded eye. But it was too late to reattach the leg, which they didn’t have in any case. No, Artemis Senior needed prolonged medical attention, and it had to begin somewhere that could be rationally explained. So Holly had flown south-west to Helsinki, depositing the unconscious man at the doors of the University Hospital. One porter had spotted the flying patient, but he had been successfully mind-wiped.
When Artemis Senior regained consciousness the past two years would be a blur, and his last memory would be a happy one: bidding his family farewell at Dublin harbour. Thanks again to Foaly and his mind-wiping technology.
‘Why don’t I just move in with you?’ the centaur had quipped when they returned to Police Plaza. ‘Do your ironing while I’m at it.’
Artemis smiled. He had been doing that a lot lately. Even the parting with Holly had gone better than he could have expected, considering she’d seen him shoot his own father. Artemis shuddered. He anticipated many sleepless nights over that particular strategy.
The captain escorted them to Tara, slipping them out through a holographic hedge. There was even a holographic cow chewing the virtual leaves to throw humans off the fairy scent.
Artemis was back in his school uniform, which had been miraculously restored by the People’s technology. He sniffed his lapel.
‘This blazer smells unusual,’ he commented. ‘Not unpleasant, but unusual.’
‘It’s completely clean,’ said Holly, smiling. ‘Foaly had to put it through three cycles in the machine to purge. . .’
‘To purge the Mud People from it,’ completed Artemis.
‘Exactly.’
There was a full moon overhead, bright and pocked like a golf ball. Holly could feel its magic singing to her.
‘Foaly said, in the light of the help you’ve given us, he’s pulling the surveillance on Fowl Manor.’ ‘That’s good to know,’ said Artemis.
‘Is it the right decision?’
Artemis considered it. ‘Yes. The People are safe from me.’
‘Good. Because a large section of the Council wanted you mind-wiped. And with a chunk of memory this big, your IQ could take a bit of a dip.’
Butler extended a hand. ‘Well, Captain. I don’t suppose I’ll see you again.’
Holly shook it. ‘If you do, it’ll be too late.’ Captain Short turned towards the fairy fort. ‘I had better go. It will be light soon. I don’t want to be caught unshielded on a spy satellite. The last thing I need is my photo all over the Internet. Not when I’ve just been reinstated at Recon.’
Butler elbowed his employer gently.
‘Oh, Holly . . . Eh, Captain Short.’ Eh? Artemis couldn’t believe he’d actually said eh. It wasn’t even a word.
‘Yes, Mud B . . . Yes, Artemis?’
Artemis looked Holly in the eye, just as Butler had instructed. This ‘being civil’ business was more difficult than one would think. ‘I would like to . . . I mean.What I mean is . . ."
Another elbow from Butler.
‘Thank you. I owe you everything. Because of you I have my parents. And the way you flew that craft was nothing short of spectacular. And on the train . . . Well, I could never have done what you . . .’
A third elbow. This time to stop the babbling.
‘Sorry. Well, you get the idea.’
Holly’s elfin features wore a strange expression. Somewhere between embarrassment and — could it possibly be? — delight. She recovered quickly.
‘Maybe I owe you something too, human,’ she said, drawing her pistol. Butler almost reacted, but decided to give Holly the benefit of the doubt.
Captain Short plucked a gold coin from her belt, flicking it twenty metres into the moonlit sky. With one fluid movement, she brought her weapon up and loosed a single blast. The coin rose another twenty metres, then spun earthwards. Artemis somehow managed to snatch it from the air. The first cool moment of his young life.
‘Nice shot,’ he said. The previously solid disc now had a tiny hole in the centre.
Holly held out her hand, revealing the still-raw scar on her finger. ‘If it wasn’t for you, I would have missed altogether. No mech-digit can replicate that kind of accuracy. So, thank you too, I suppose.’
Artemis held out the coin.
‘No,’ said Holly. ‘You keep it, to remind you.’
‘To remind me?’
Holly stared at him frankly. ‘To remind you that deep beneath the layers of deviousness, there is a spark of decency. Perhaps you could blow on that spark occasionally.’
Artemis closed his fingers around the coin. It was warm against his palm. ‘Yes, perhaps.’
A small two-seater plane buzzed overhead. Artemis glanced skywards, and when he looked back Holly was gone. A slight heat haze hovered above the grass.
‘Goodbye, Holly,’ he said softly.
The Bentley started on the first turn of the key. In less than an hour they arrived at St Bartleby’s main gate.
‘Make sure your phone’s switched on,’ Butler said, holding the door. ‘The Helsinki officials should be getting the results of their trace from Interpol soon. Your father’s file has been reactivated in their mainframe thanks, once again, to Foaly.’
Artemis nodded, checking his phone was switched on. ‘Try to locate Mother and Juliet before the news comes through. I don’t want to be hunting through every spa in the south of France looking for them.’
‘Yes, Artemis.’
‘And check my accounts are well hidden. No need for Father to know exactly what I’ve been up to for the past two years.’
Butler smiled. ‘Yes, Artemis.’
Artemis took a few steps towards the school gates, then turned. ‘And, Butler, one more thing. In the Arctic . . ."
Artemis couldn’t ask, but his bodyguard knew the answer anyway.
‘Yes, Artemis,’ he said gently. ‘You did the right thing. It was the only way.’
Artemis nodded, standing by the gates until the Bentley had disappeared down the avenue. From this moment on, life would be different. With two parents in the manor, his schemes would have to be much more carefully planned. Yes, he owed it to the People to leave them alone for a while, but Mulch Diggums . . . that was a different matter. So many secure facilities, so little time.
COUNSELLOR’S OFFICE, ST BARTLEBY’S SCHOOL FOR YOuNG GENTLEMEN
Not only was Doctor Po still employed at St Bartleby’s, but he seemed fortified by his break from Artemis. His other patients were relatively straightforward cases of anger management, exam stress and chronic shyness. And that was just the teachers.
Artemis settled on to the couch, taking care not to accidentally press the power button on his mobile.
Doctor Po nodded at his computer. ‘Principal Guiney forwarded me your e-mail. Charming.’
‘I’m sorry about that,’ muttered Artemis, surprised to find that he actually was sorry. Upsetting other people didn’t usually upset him. ‘I was in denial. So, I projected my anxieties on to you.’
Po half chuckled. ‘Yes, very good. Just what it says in the book.’
‘I know,’ said Artemis. And he did know. Doctor F. Roy Dean Schlippe had contributed a chapter to that particular book.
Doctor Po laid down his pen, something he had never done before.
‘You know, we still haven’t resolved that last issue.’
‘Which issue is that, Doctor?’
‘The one we touched on at our last session. About respect?’
‘Ah, that issue.’
Po steepled his fingers. ‘I want you to pretend I’m as smart as you are, and give me an honest answer.’
Artemis thought of his father lying in a Helsinki hospital, of Captain Holly Short risking her life to help him and, of course, Butler
, without whom he would never have made it out of Koboi Laboratories. He looked up, catching Doctor Po smiling at him.
‘Well, young man, have you found anyone worthy of your respect?’
Artemis smiled back. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I believe I have.’
THE END