5000 feet over Rome, Fowl Learjet

Artemis twisted the stem of a wine glass around in his fingers absentmindedly. He wasn't nervous, he assured himself, just eager. For a while now he had been hunting down a series of absolutely divine impressionist paintings, and tonight, he was on the verge of laying his pale hands on the very last one. After the whole sticky business with time and manipulation thereof, he had decided to take some time off. Right now, Butler was in the cockpit, flying them to a private airport in Rome, and then to an auction house, where the painting was being sold. He sipped the rest of the vintage and set the glass back into its holder. The painting was known as Bal du moulin de la Galette, a priceless masterpiece by Pierre-Auguste Renoir. It had resided for some time in the Louvre, after which it was transferred to the Musée d'Orsay, and after that to a private collection in Rome. The buyer promptly went bankrupt and the work was now up for auction. Buying, or in some cases "procuring", art was a favorite pastime for Artemis. It was important to him on a primal level to be able to view the picture in his own gallery, to be able to reach out and touch the glass and know that some particularly bright spark had put his fingers in a similar position some centuries ago. It also helped that he loved impressionist work in general. He already had the smaller print, wrenched out of the hands of a Swiss collector. Well, not wrenched, he mused. Immediately after his last escapade he had realized the full incapacitating potential of mesmer, and had constructed a device that mimicked it's effects, albeit with a huge energy requirement. One burst and the protesting Swiss collector had been all to happy to hand the painting over for the agreed sum of money with a happy grin and a wave. Father would not approve he thought. But then, he doesn't need to know, does he? A grim smirk twisted the corners of Artemis Fowl the Second's mouth. He was back, doing what he loved.

The auction house was about as fancy as was possible under the conditions. A ringed semicircular amphitheater stretched away from a small podium. The lights dimmed and the light chatter and clink of glasses died away. Butler and Artemis settled into their seats in the third row, and Artemis straightened his tie. Suits were another passion, usually Armani, always black. A well-fitted suit projected an aura of authority that Artemis enjoyed immensely, as only a person like him could. The bidding began and several items came up and down from the stage. A priceless antique vase, a Faberge egg, an authentic European long sword used in the Battle of Agincourt. Artemis was severely tempted by the last item, but he only had enough money to outbid everyone once, not twice, and besides, the halls of the Fowl residence had plenty of medieval arms and armor already. At last the painting in question was wheeled carefully onto the stage. The announcer cleared his throat and Artemis' blue eyes widened slightly behind his sunglasses.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the final item. A beautiful Renoir in almost mint condition, bids will start at fifty million Euros. Do I hear fifty?"

Artemis raised his bidding card, as did a dozen other audience members.

"I have fifty, I have fifty, do I hear sixty, sixty million?"

The bidding went on for a whole twenty minutes. Gradually the remainder of the audience ceased raising their cards, and Artemis was locked in a price battle with a man in a white suit down the aisle. Artemis ground his teeth in frustration as he went up to one hundred and fifty million and the man matched him. He was about to raise his card again when Butler laid a hand on his arm.

"We're out of the game Artemis, one fifty was our limit. Sorry."

Artemis clenched and unclenched his hands, but otherwise remained the picture of politeness.

"Right, lets get outside, I have a plan B."

"SOLD! To number 295 for a total of one hundred and sixty million Euros, thank you for coming everyone, have a great night!" The announcer boomed

The crowd got to their feet and filed into the dining area. All of them, except for two people, one a tall Eurasian man, and the other, a pale Irish boy, who headed for the parking lot. The warm Mediterranean air flowed over Artemis, but he was not able to enjoy it. Not yet. Not until that stretch of canvas resided on his study wall. Artemis walked over to the Bentley that they had driven from the airport and stood, hands in pockets.

"What are we waiting for?" asked Butler

"We are waiting for the man in that tacky white suit to return to his vehicle. After making a purchase that big, he will be eager to leave and I estimate he won't stay for dinner."

Butler nodded. Artemis's estimates were right nearly one hundred percent of the time. Sure enough, after a few terse minutes of silence, three figures appeared from the shadows of the buildings side exit and proceeded across the crowded parking lot to a reserved slot containing a glossy black sedan. The two moved fast, walking brusquely over to the passenger side where the white suited man was still conversing with his bodyguards. All three turned to face to face the small suited boy and his large companion. Artemis reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a large tube about a foot long, aimed it in the general vicinity of the men, and pressed a button. A white strobe began to flash in front of him, like an old fashioned projector showing a blank slide. The device emitted a faint popping noise and the power bar began to deplete rapidly.

"I am simply an interested party, you will forget about me the moment I am gone. What is you name, and what did you do with the Renoir?" Artemis intoned, slowly and clearly.

The white suited man gazed at him for a moment, eyes half closed.

"My name is Michael Brand, the painting is on a plane to California."

Artemis upped the beam's intensity

"Where in California?"

"The J Paul Getty Museum, we're putting on a showing later this month and-"

"Alright, that's enough." Artemis cut across him.

Just an art director, damn, not even a petty criminal to make this interesting. Artemis switched the mesmerizer off and put it back into his coat pocket. He and Butler walked away from the stunned men.

Back aboard the plane, Artemis was fuming.

"Damn, he outbid me! I'm supposed to have to money avenue covered Butler, that's the whole point of being rich."

Butler staid silent. He knew Artemis was just venting his frustration. Mostly, the frustration stemmed from being bored. With another existential, multi species crisis averted, the fifteen year old genius had nothing with which to occupy his time.

"Where to now?" Butler inquired

"Los Angeles, old friend, the city of angels. I'm going to get that painting."

Butler sighed, in his head of course. The truth was it was good to be right next to his charge, even if he was on a collision course with the law. Not that something as clumsy as the law had ever come close to putting the Fowl family in jail. It was more of an obstacle. A pre-requisite that needed to be met. Such was the logic of the latest in the long line of Fowls.

Police Plaza, Haven

Foaly was pulling another long shift. He had been trying to cut down on that since his marriage, but since he was one of the few fairy folk in existence who could operate the surveillance equipment so well, getting time off of work was a challenge. Lucky for him Caballine understood. That was one of the things he loved so much about her, you didn't have to say anything, she just knew. A small, yet insistent ping drew his attention to a monitor on his left that was tracking magical flux around the world. He zoomed into a red dot inside of the Italian Peninsula and stared at it for a few moments. This was puzzling, there was a significant release of magic in this area, but there were no LEP over flights planned there, at least, not that he knew of. There were a multitude of options. It could be one of the rouge fairies that lived on the surface, or it could be a classified operation. Then again, if Section 8 was mucking around with Mud People, they would have called him in to assist, or at the very least, notified him. The dot continued for a moment, and then faded from the display. The centaur scratched his chin and switched to SCOPES, the satellite tracking system. Foaly had petitioned the council to let him launch his own satellite in the past, but the logistics had ultimately been too great, and they had shut him down. After a quick search of the available spy birds in the area, he settled on a brand new United States KH-15 series spy satellite, codenamed Longshot. The Mud Men had made a big leap forward as far as the imaging was concerned. Whereas before, they had trouble making out a vehicle from a bush without careful examination, now they had achieved the long held stereotype of being able to read the headline of a newspaper in someone's hands. Although fairy imaging tech made it look like a cheap disposable camera, Foley had to hand it to the human science team, they worked fast. A few thousand miles up, Longshot made an unscheduled rotation, burning a fraction of a drop of its Hydrazine fuel reserves to settle into position. The camera would have made a faint whirring noise, but the vacuum was dead silent. Foaly saw a parking lot, and not much else. The picture began to sharpen, and the centaur could make out two humans getting into a car. Foaly strained the camera to its maximum resolution and took several still shots. The figures got into the car and it began to move away. He quickly brought up the photos he had taken and cycled through them. All of them depicted a black haired teenager in a crisp suit. Foaly shook his head.

"I should have known. Artemis Fowl."