Eugeny Petrov Krasna idly played with the Cossack hat, given him by his father. The garment that he now wore to keep the biting Russian winds at bay had come with some advice, advice that was invaluable in Eugeny's line of work. Always know who your enemies are, and never forget why they are your enemies. Never forget them. An organised crime syndicate could not afford to be taken likely. If anyone, anyone at all, thought they could escape from their influence, it would be disastrous. So never forget who needs to be taught a lesson. Revenge your insults. No-one gets away with winning.

A phone rang from the Russian's fur-lined greatcoat. Eugeny drew out a sleek Blackberry, the latest model naturally. He scowled as he looked at the screen, then thumbed the touch sensitive screen with a gloved hand.

"Da?"

"I just called to say..." the voice was anything but casual, "that mother expects to see you tonight. She's cooking Pirozhki."

"Tell her no eggs. I don't like eggs."

"Britva?"

"Of course you fool! Are you sure this line is secure?"

"Yes. I'm not completely incapable."

"Apparently. I've yet to see evidence. Perhaps I should have thrown you into the ice back then as well."

Kamal winced. He had managed to persuade Britva that Vassikin had been responsible for the Fowl hostage event, by throwing Artemis Senior overboard. Britva had responded by giving the Murmansker the same treatment. Revenge your insults.

"The team has been assembled. Artemis Fowl Junior is leaving tomorrow for a debate at the Oxford Union, taking his... bodyguard with him. At 1300 hours the two fire teams will clear the house, whilst the hackers disable Fowl's security system. I will perform the snatch myself, along with six men I hand-picked, all ex-KGB, and all men who have seen action. But we expect little to no resistance. Fowl's security is laughable."

Britva was not impressed. "Don't be so confident. Fowl is a genius, a brilliant inventor and a madman. His staff is low yes. But there may be other problems involved."

Kamal bit back a retort. Britva had hung up anyway. If Kamal didn't succeed it didn't matter to him. He would send another team. And Kamal would die. No more chances.

The centaur, Foaly, scowled as he powered up the monitor. An animated figure danced across the screen that vaguely resembled him. As he watched, the figure trotted along eating a comically oversized carrot with gusto, before walking into a tree. Foaly sighed. The Figure then walked over a pile of fallen leaves which gave way, pitching his avatar into a pit of spikes, resulting in a disturbingly violent animated death. He had been receiving these for a month or so now, and he knew exactly where they came from. And it frustrated him all the more that he couldn't do anything about it. He gritted his teeth before making a gesture at thin air. A person appeared on the screen in front of him, its head bent over a massive pile of paperwork, face held in one hand.

The figure looked up. "What is it Foaly? I'm a busy fairy you know."

"Oh. Well that's fine. I'm just a bit lonesome down here in my booth, wondered if you might fancy a break?"

"Foaly, I haven't got time for this. If you want something then tell me quickly, if not stop distracting me."

"Oh no, just a chat. I understand if you haven't got the time to talk to an old friend."

Holly sighed, rubbing her temples with her thumb and forefinger. As if she didn't have enough responsibilities without having to babysit a petulant centaur. "Look Foaly, its not that, I genuinely have to get these arrest reports signed before..." Her voice trailed off.

Foaly had lifted up a small china bowl, full of passion fruit. He plucked one of the small yellow fruit and raised it before the camera temptingly. "Sure you don't have the time? I'll probably ask a couple of techies in if you can't come. I mean, I can't eat all of these on my own." It was a pathetic ruse. There were barely any of the fruit in the bowl, and they were a rare delicacy for the subterranean Fairies.

"How did you-" Holly recovered her composure. "I suppose I have a few minutes. I'll be down in a second." Foaly grinned. It was so easy to get your way. You just had to know which buttons to push.

Opal Koboi grinned as she composed her latest animation to send to Foaly. Artemis would probably tell her that it was a sigh of her own insecurity that she kept sending them to her old enemy, but to be honest she just liked the idea that somewhere, far under the ground in her own home, she could still be a very annoying person.

Apart from this daily ritual, Opal Koboi had almost completely let go of her old life. She hadn't enjoyed it anyway. Although her ears were still pointed, she no longer truly represented her old self. Her body had grown, not much, but she was now comfortably over four foot, short but not abnormal for humans. Which was good, as she was now married to a human, and lived with humans daily. She had only kept her ears because Artemis had asked her to. A weird fetish, she had commented, but she kept them anyway. She had worn a hat for a while, but eventually she just told everyone she had taken plastic surgery, and the world had accepted this as one of the eccentricities of the hugely wealthy. In fact many Hollywood stars had now asked their surgeons for the same operation, and it had become something of a fashion.

For the eyes of the world were now truly on the Fowls. That is Opal and Artemis Fowl, the brilliant businessman and innovative inventor that had created an empire that had gone from strength to strength in the four short years in which they were married. Artemis Fowl was the richest 22-year old on the planet, and Fowl Industries was the largest growing technology company in terms of net value. Opal's inventions had been relatively simple to her, but they came as revolutions for the Humans for whom she was now inventing. The solar-powered car had been her first creation, the first realistic application of the science to personal transport. Artemis had wanted to create a family car, but Opal had persuaded him that to impress the world they should make something a little more impressive. And so the £500,000 Fowl Prometheus had been created, a stunningly beautiful two seater designed by Artemis and engineered by Opal. Zero to 62 in 2.2 seconds, zero to 100 in 4 and a top speed of 300mph made it the fastest supercar in the world, outstripping the Petrol rivals with ease. Many other innovations had followed, and cars were only one wing of the Fowl empire. And of course, Opal's greatest inventions were kept to herself.

All this of course was highly infuriating to the Fairies, and particularly Opal's enemies below ground. Her newly found environmentalist aspirations had led to a lowering in the world's carbon footprint by a massive 10, and many of her inventions, such as the solar ambulance, also served to help humanity, and many liberal fairies were calling for her name to be struck off the Public Enemy list. They argued that the damage she had caused had long ago been overtaken by the good she was now doing. Opal had saved many more lives by this point than she had ever taken. But the council remembered the Bwa'kell uprising, the Zito probe and the endangered animal testing. She was still hated by the majority of fairies, and it infuriated them that she lived above ground in happiness and prosperity, far beyond the reach of the law. Opal didn't care much either way.

Artemis Fowl the second wandered into her laboratory, idly eyeing her latest projects and rejects scattered with apparently no order around the room. He had long since given up on trying to get her to conform to a more organised system. She seemed to work fine in the chaos that was so anathema to Artemis's method of working. He stood behind her chair and placed his hands on her shoulders, bending down and kissing her cheek. She moved slightly towards him, leaning on his midriff.

"Good morning."

"Good morning to you too."

"Are you really still sending those silly things?"

"Yes."

Their voices were soft and gentle, almost whispers. He stood behind her for a few more seconds, then spoke again in his businessman's voice. "How is he this morning?"

"He's absolutely fine. All the usual tests are showing no abnormalities. He'll be finished in a minute, why don't you go in?" She seemed annoyed at his question, as if it were unnecessary for Artemis to voice any worries, but she spoke gently enough.

"I'll do that." Opal noticed his posture had changed, had become less relaxed, and his manner was serious and almost anxious. She sighed inwardly, but made no comment. She felt it wasn't her place to offer her opinion on the matter.

Artemis stepped briskly over to the opposite wall and pressed a fingerprint-recognition button. A door slid soundlessly open and he stepped inside. Within the chamber was a mass of piping and wiring, feeding into a central glass cylinder. The whirring and clunking of machinery created strange sounds, and the hiss of released steam made him jump momentarily. He listened for a minute to the sounds, waiting for the tests to finish. After a short while the machinery wound down, and the front panel of the glass cylinder slid down to reveal a single figure inside.

"Good morning" said Artemis in a caring tone, "Old Friend."