This is a new one shot fic for me, and the first in this style. Enjoy, and please review.
Vetinari looked down at the report, and smiled. He enjoyed it when this happened. Most of the time, some new criminal came to town, set up shop, and then was quietly dealt with, either by the Watch, the Thieves Guild, or by no-one guv, not no-one. (this was the standard response to questions about this sort of crime that was not committed by official criminals) However, Vimes had said that they had been investigating for several months, and has not found any evidence other than thousands of crimes, with no clues. This meant the criminal was smart. And smart was breakfast for Vetinari, but only after he had warmed up with the cross-word and done the Hudoku in under 15 seconds.
Artemis Fowl, heir to the Fowl criminal empire, was content. He had managed to push the Briccia out of the Pseudopolis area, and the Watch had no clue who had done it. Visible crime was down, and he was making a fortune changing the Bank of Ankh-Morpork's gold into air, and had even received a thank-you note from Mr Lipwig about it.
Butler came in, carrying three letters. One was written in dwarvish, and probably contained a report on how his mining operation was going on. He was determined to accumulate as much gold as possible, simply because he wanted to have gold. In the mean time, he was even being paid for building the mine under the city, since it helped create the new Underground that was being planned. The next letter was written by a troll, so needed no coding. It told him "Dat der Slide and der Slab was not in der area anymore". It was from Opal, a troll serving Mr Shine, who was paying him to remove troll drugs from the city. Apart from the pay, Artemis was able to break down the drugs, and sell the minerals for profit. It was a good arrangement.
The last letter was understated, with the city crest in one corner, and no stamps. This was bad. It meant that the Patrician wanted to see him. He was well known for being ruthless, intelligent, and without vices. This meant Artemis had nothing to blackmail him with. Which meant the meeting was on equal terms, something Artemis did not like. However, he should count himself fortunate that the Patrician did not know that the mine was hiding an illegal brewery, and that his 'war' against the troll drug operation was not a metaphor.
Butler pushed the door open, and led Artemis to his coach. It was a dull purple, and had the Fowl crest on the side. Pulling it were two of the most dangerous horses that Butler had been able to find. They were like him, very adept at removing any sort of obstruction from their path. Fortunately, in Ankh-Morpork, bodies tended to rot quickly, so any sort of collateral damage was cleared faster than the Watch could press charges. This meant that he was outside the palace in under 10 minutes.
He escorted Artemis up the steps, and was stopped by the guard.
"No entry unless on official business."
Butler growled. The guard stood aside. Word travels quickly among palace staff. It only took one more minute to reach the Patrician's office.
Drumknott looked on as a pale youth, with blond hair walked through the door, and sat down on the chair. Despite the image of calm that he exuded, somehow, he managed to seem impatient. He seemed familiar somehow. Before he could ponder this any further, Lord Vetinari spoke.
"Your mother isn't pleased with you."
"My mother?"
"Yes. She seems to think that setting up a criminal organisation through several legitimate fronts, and making a large profit isn't the sort of work that a young man like you should be indulging in."
"I wouldn't call it work."
"Of course, what sort of work is it to run an underground brewery, while simultaneously removing several tons of gold from a bank, even if the director-general handed you the blueprints."
Although he couldn't decipher any of them, Drumknott had spent enough time around Vetinari to know when verbal traps were being laid. Right now, there were so many it was like trying to avoid getting laughed at, while wearing a large red nose, and a pair of oversize trousers.
"Well, she seems to think I should keep you out of trouble, and give you a job."
"A job?" Artemis knew his mother's views and his views on jobs rarely coincided.
"In my opinion, I should keep things as they are."
"And the catch is?"
"You may see your way to shouldering some of the responsibilities of a respected citizen."
"So I pay taxes."
Vetinari filled in 17 down. Ibex. 'I stand before a number of streams'. Truly pathetic. Unfortunately, the scorpions had become worryingly intelligent from eating too many crossword compilers.
"Of course it would be completely voluntary, shall we say twenty percent?" Jarred. 'To be surprised at a pot'. Maybe one more wouldn't hurt.
"Voluntary? And you think that my mother will accept that?"
"I can see her having no problem with you paying taxes."
The pale youth seemed superficially attracted to the proposal, but Drumknott was aware of the three other conversations that were being held under the cover of it, and the fifth, that was using the confusion of the first four to make an undiscovered get away.
His thoughts were interrupted by the youth speaking.
"Very well. I accept your proposal. However I want three golems to work for me."
"I can give you one, and only on weekdays"
"Two then, but all days bar holy days.
"That should be acceptable. Strange isn't it, how many troll drug gemstones ended up in the free hospital, Artemis?"
He looked down at the paper on his desk. Finally a challenge. Cunning young lady we hear. Seven letters. First letter A.
"Well, I wouldn't want to let you detain me." Artemis said, and headed for the door.
When he had gone, Vetinari smiled.
"Very clever boy, Artemis. Oh. Arty miss. I see he has connections at the Times now. Very well done indeed."
And there it is. Vetinari is Artemis Fowl's uncle. And he has connections at the Times. Please review.