ARTEMIS leaned back in the study's leather swivel chair, smiling over steepled fingers. Perfect.
That little explosion should cure those fairies of their cavalier attitude. Plus there was one less
whaler in the world. Artemis Fowl did not like whalers. There were less objectionable ways to
produce oil by-products.
The pinhole camera concealed in the locator had worked perfectly. With its high-resolution
images he had picked out the fairy's tell-tale breath crystals.
Artemis consulted the basement surveillance monitor. His captive was sitting on the cot now,
head in hands. Artemis frowned. He hadn't expected the fairy to appear so…human. Until now, they
had merely been quarry. Animals to be hunted. But now, seeing one like this, in obvious discomfort,
it changed things.
Artemis put the computer to sleep and crossed to the main doors. Time for a little chat with their
guest. Just as his fingers alighted on the brass handles, the door flew open before him. Juliet
appeared in the doorway, cheeks flushed from haste.
'Artemis,' she gasped. 'Your mother. She ...'
Artemis felt a lead ball drop in his stomach.
'Yes?'
'Well, she says, Artemis…Artemis, that your ...'
'Yes, Juliet. For heaven's sake, what is it?'
Juliet placed both hands over her mouth, composing herself. After several seconds she parted
spangled nails, speaking through her fingers.
'It's your father, sir. Artemis Senior. Madam Fowl says he's come back!'
For a split second, Artemis could have sworn his heart had stopped. Father? Back? Was it
possible? Of course he'd always believed his father was alive. But lately, since he'd hatched this fairy
scheme, it was almost as if his father had shifted to the back of his mind. Artemis felt guilt churn his
stomach. He had given up. Given up on his own father.
'Did you see him, Juliet? With your own eyes?'
The girl shook her head.
'No, Artemis, sir. I just heard voices. In the bedroom. But she won't let me through the door.
Not for anything. Not even with a hot drink.'
Artemis calculated. They had returned barely an hour since. His father could have slipped past
Juliet. It was possible. Just possible. He glanced at his watch, synchronized with Greenwich Mean
Time by constantly updated radio signals. Three a.m. Time was ticking on. His entire plan depended
on the fairies making their next move before daylight.
Artemis started. He was doing it again, pushing family to one side. What was he becoming? His
father was the priority here, not some money-making scheme.
Juliet was still in the doorway, watching him with those enormous blue eyes. She was waiting for
him to make a decision, as he always did. And for once, there was indecision scrawled across his
pale features.
'Very well,' he mumbled eventually. 'I had better go up there immediately.'
Artemis brushed past the girl, taking the steps two at a time. His mother's room was two flights
up, a converted attic space.
He hesitated at the door. What would he say if it was his father miraculously returned? What
would he do? It was ridiculous dithering about it. Impossible to predict. He knocked lightly.
'Mother?'
No response, but he thought he heard a giggle and was instantly transported into the past. Initially
this room had been his parents' lounge. They would sit on the chaise longue for hours, tittering like
school children, feeding the pigeons or watching the ships sailing past on Dublin sound. When
Artemis Senior had disappeared, Angeline Fowl had become more and more attached to the space,
eventually refusing to leave altogether.
'Mother? Are you all right?'
Muffled voices from within. Conspiratorial whispers.
'Mother. I'm coming in.'
'Wait a moment. Timmy, stop it, you beast. We have company.'
Timmy? Artemis's heart thumped like a snare drum in his chest. Timmy, her pet name for his
father. Timmy and Arty. The two men in her life. He could wait no longer. Artemis burst through
the double doors.
His first impression was light. Mother had the lamps on. A good sign surely. Artemis knew where
his mother would be. He knew exactly where to look. But he couldn't. What if…What if ...
'Yes, can we help you?'
Artemis turned, his eyes still downcast. 'It's me.'
His mother laughed. Airy and carefree. 'I can see it's you, Papa. Can't you even give your boy one
night off? It is our honeymoon after all.'
Artemis knew then. It was just an escalation of her madness. Papa? Angeline thought Artemis was
his own grandfather. Dead over ten years. He raised his gaze slowly.
His mother was seated on the chaise longue, resplendent in her own wedding dress, face clumsily
coated with make-up. But that wasn't the worst of it.
Beside her was a facsimile of his father, constructed from the morning suit he'd worn on that
glorious day in Christchurch Cathedral fourteen years ago. The clothes were padded with tissue, and
atop the dress shirt was a stuffed pillowcase with lipstick features. It was almost funny. Artemis
choked back a sob, his hopes vanishing like a summer rainbow.
'What do you say, Papa?' said Angeline in a deep bass, nodding the pillow like a ventriloquist
manipulating her dummy. 'One night off for your boy, eh?'
Artemis nodded. What else could he do?
'One night then. Take tomorrow too. Be happy.'
Angeline's face radiated honest joy. She sprang from the couch, embracing her unrecognized son.
'Thank you, Papa. Thank you.'
Artemis returned the embrace, though it felt like cheating.
'You're welcome, Mo Angeline. Now, I must be off. Business to attend to.'
His mother settled beside her imitation husband.
'Yes, Papa. You go, don't worry, we can keep ourselves amused.'
Artemis left. He didn't look back. There were things to be done. Fairies to be extorted. He had
no time for his mother's fantasy world.
Captain Holly Short was holding her head in her hands. One hand to be precise. The other was
scrabbling down the side of her boot, on the camera's blindside. In actuality her head was crystal
clear, but it would do no harm for the enemy to believe her still out of action. Perhaps they would
underestimate her. And that would be the last mistake they ever made.
Holly's fingers closed around the object that had been digging into her ankle. She knew
immediately by its contours what was concealed there. The acorn! It must have slipped into her
boot during all the commotion by the oak. This could be a vital development. All she needed was a
small patch of earth, then her powers would be restored.
Holly glanced surreptitiously around the cell. Fresh concrete by the looks of it. Not a single crack
or flaky corner. Nowhere to bury her secret weapon. Holly stood tentatively, trying out her legs for
stability. Not too bad, a bit shaky around the knees, but otherwise sound enough. She crossed to the
wall, pressing her cheek and palms to the smooth surface. The concrete was fresh all right, very
recent. Still damp in patches. Obviously her prison had been specially prepared.
'Looking for something?' said a voice. A cold, heartless voice.
Holly reared back from the wall. The human boy was standing not two metres from her, his eyes
hidden behind mirrored glasses. He had entered the room without a sound. Extraordinary.
'Sit, please.'
Holly did not want to sit please. What she wanted to do was incapacitate this insolent pup with
her elbow and use his miserable hide for leverage. Artemis could see it in her eyes. It amused him.
'Getting ideas, are we, Captain Short?'
Holly bared her teeth, it was answer enough.
'We are both fully aware of the rules here, Captain. This is my house. You must abide by my
wishes. Your laws, not mine. Obviously my wishes do not include bodily harm to myself, or you
attempting to leave this house.'
It hit Holly then.
'How do you know my -'
'Your name? Your rank?' Artemis smiled, though there was no joy in it. 'If you will wear a name
tag ...'
Holly's hand unconsciously covered the silver tag on her suit.
'But that's written in -'
'Gnommish. I know. I happen to be fluent. As is everyone in my network.'
Holly was silent for a moment, processing this momentous revelation.
'Fowl,' she said with feeling, 'you have no idea what you've done. Bringing the worlds together
like this could mean disaster for us all.'
Artemis shrugged. 'I am not concerned with us all, just myself. And believe me, I shall be
perfectly fine. Now, sit, please.'
Holly sat, never taking her hazel eyes from the diminutive monster before her.
'So what is this master plan, Fowl? Let me guess: world domination?'
'Nothing so melodramatic,' chuckled Artemis. 'Just riches.'
'A thief!' spat Holly. 'You're just a thief!'
Annoyance flashed across Artemis's features, only to be replaced by his customary sardonic grin.
'Yes. A thief if you like. Hardly just a thief though. The world's first cross-species thief.'
Captain Short snorted. 'First cross-species thief! Mud People have been stealing from us for
millennia. Why do you think we live underground?'
'True. But I will be first to successfully separate a fairy from its gold.'
'Gold? Gold? Human idiot. You don't honestly believe that crock-of-gold nonsense. Some things
aren't true, you know.'
Holly threw her head back and laughed.
Artemis checked his nails patiently, waiting for her to finish. When the gales had finally subsided,
he shook his index finger.
'You are right to laugh, Captain Short. For a while there, I did believe in all that
under-the-rainbow crock-of-gold blarney, but now I know better. Now I know about the hostage
fund.'
Holly struggled to keep her face under control.
'What hostage fund?'
'Oh, come now, Captain. Why bother with the charade? You told me about it yourself.'
'I-I told you!' stammered Holly. 'Ridiculous!'
'Look at your arm.'
Holly rolled up her right sleeve. There was a small cotton pad taped to the vein.
'That's where we administered the sodium pentathol. Commonly known as truth serum. You sang
like a bird.'
Holly knew it was true. How else could he know?
'You're mad!'
Artemis nodded indulgently. 'If I win, I'm a prodigy. If I lose then I'm mad. That's the way
history is written.'
Of course, there had been no sodium pentathol, just a harmless prick with a sterilized needle.
Artemis would not risk causing brain damage to his meal ticket, but nor could he afford to reveal the
Book as the source of his information. Better to let the hostage believe that she had betrayed her
own people. It would lower her morale, making her more susceptible to his mind games. Still, the
ruse disturbed him. It was undeniably cruel. How far was he prepared to go for this gold? He didn't
know, and wouldn't until the time came.
Holly slumped, momentarily defeated by this latest development. She had talked. Revealed sacred
secrets. Even if she did manage to escape, she would be banished to some freezing tunnel under the
Arctic Circle.
'This isn't over, Fowl,' she said at last. 'We have powers you can't possibly know about. It would
take days to describe them all.'
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