The Arctic Incident

  The man was dressed in the rags of a once fine suit. Scars branded the prisoner’s face like lightning bolts, and one leg appeared to be missing. It was difficult to tell. Artemis’s breath was jumpy now, like a marathon runner’s.

  There was a sign around the man’s neck. Cardboard and twine. On the sign was scrawled in thick black letters: Zdravstvutye syn. The camera zoomed in on the message for several seconds, then went blank.

  “Is that all?”

  Butler nodded.“Just the man, and the sign. That’s it.”

  “Zdravstvutye syn,” muttered Artemis, his accent flawless. Since his father’s disappearance, he had been teaching himself the language.

  “Should I translate for you?” asked Butler, also a Russian speaker. His accent, however, was not quite so sophisticated.

  He had picked it up during a five-year stint with an espionage unit in the late eighties.

  “No, I know what it means,” replied his young employer. “Zdravstvutye syn: Hello, son.”

  Butler pulled the Bentley onto the divided highway. No one 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 MPG, 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 the Tchersky 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 camera screen. “You’re right, of course. I will have to devise a plan.”

  Butler swallowed. He remembered the last plan. It had almost gotten them all killed, and could have plunged the planet into an interspecies 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 E1, 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 an 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 E1, but then proceeded to commandeer an entire shuttle for the return journey.

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

  The truculent gnome consulted his handheld 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 coupla 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 a little more than two feet.

  “Yeah, I heard of 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 nothing 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 toward 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, with female elves, who knew?

  “Okay,” 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 the arrival dock is clear when I get back.”

  Ireland, en route from Saint Bartleby’s to Fowl Manor

  Artemis was bouncing ideas off Butler, 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 MPG?”

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

  “What about the MPG 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 Ma
fiya is going to have foot soldiers at every airstrip.”

  “Are we sure it’s the Mafiya?”

  Butler glanced in the rearview 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.”

  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. Russians arouse less suspicion in Russia. I have passports and visas.”

  “Good. 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 missions. Once a checkpoint official, himself a chess grandmaster, had doubted their story, until Artemis beat him in six moves. Artemis’s technique had since become known as the Bashkir Maneuver.

  “How soon can we leave?”

  “Almost immediately. Mrs. Fowl and Juliet are in Nice this week. That gives us eight days. We can e-mail the school, make up some excuse.”

  “I daresay Saint 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. Dangerous 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 before.

  Tara Shuttleport

  The fairy shuttleport at Tara was an impressive operation. Thirty thousand cubic feet 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 popped up 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 maneuverability. Holly had been dying to try the DoubleDex out, 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 fifty feet 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 defense. 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 well 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 3-D 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 her screen. Of course they had chosen Lili for this assignment. The bimbo face of the LEP. Sexism was alive and well and living in Police Plaza. It was rumored that Frond’s LEP scores had been bumped up because she was a descendant of the elfin king.

  “You have selected Fowl Manor,” said Frond’s image, tossing blond tresses over her shoulder. “This is a red-flagged building. Unauthorized access is strictly forbidden. Do not even attempt a flyover. Artemis Fowl is considered an active threat to the People.”

  A picture of Fowl’s 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 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 coordinates 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 Man 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

  The original Fowl castle had been built by Aodhán 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 remodeled until it became a manor, but the attention to security remained. The manor was surrounded by three-foot-thick walls, and wired with a state-of-the-art security system.

  Butler pulled off the road, opening the estate gates by a remote control. He glanced back at his employer’s thoughtful 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 them 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 Tag 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.
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  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 semester.”

  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 remodeled entrance. A shiver passed across his heart. He knew that feeling well. His mother had 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 windshield came into view, the glass was tinted and the shadows beyond were deep. Holly felt her heart rate increase at the sight of Fowl’s automobile.

  The car 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 he had dismantled a fairy helmet and constructed an eyepiece that allowed him 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 Butler.

  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, Holly set the DoubleDex to slow descent. She alighted soundlessly, aiming her weapon at Butler’s chest. Now there was a target a sun-blinded dwarf couldn’t miss.