A/N: I hope you like this. If you do, visit Ellen Brand's profile, because Cade Maboroshi doesn't belong to me and, I assure you, she's much better at writing him then I am.
Disclaimer: I don't own Artemis Fowl or any of his acquaintances, friends, enemies or even people who happen to live in the same world as he does. Nor do I own the main character of this fic: that privilege belongs to Ellen Brand, who graciously agreed to lend him to me and write this fic. All hail Ellen Brand! And Eoin Colfer, of course.
Prologue
Cade Maboroshi eyed the man sitting across from him with amusement. His colleague was mildly drunk, he was sure. Still…
"A drinking contest, Dr. Po?" he questioned, amused.
He nodded. "I've heard you've had some difficult patients," he told Cade, then broke into laughter. "They can't be more difficult than mine!" he exclaimed loudly.
Po was a school psychiatrist, just like Maboroshi. Cade wanted to ask him how he found such difficult patients, but then recalled his experience with Danny and even Junior—though he wasn't Junior's psychologist, exactly, he knew him better than most and still found him really, really complicated. Junior went to a school and it was likely that they had a psychologist there, too…though Cade doubted, personally, that they'd ever had the guts to interview Junior. Nevertheless, people like his erstwhile patients were rare, and he couldn't help but wonder what made Po so certain Po's patients were worse than his.
"You've got so many difficult patients, then?" inquired Cade.
Po sighed and shook his head. "No," he confided. "Only one. But by God, he'd difficult enough to make up for any other!"
Cade would love to ask his name—but, unfortunately, that would be breaking confidentiality, something he would never agree with.
"Come one," his fellow psychiatrist urged him.
"Well, all right," he found himself agreeing, much to his own bemusement.
Po grinned. "I'll go first! My client is the most intelligent man in his generation, probably that the world has ever seen."
Well. That's…interesting. I've known some quite clever people myself, but I'd hesitate to make that claim. "Are you sure, Dr. Po?" questioned Maboroshi.
He snorted. "Clearly," he said, "you've never met the fellow, or you'd know I was right."
"Well," Cade said doubtfully, "if you say so." He couldn't really find anything to counter this with, despite his doubts, so he took a drink. "My turn," he decided. "My client is one of the greatest detectives the world has ever seen. And he's friends with some more." This was stretching the truth a bit; Junior wasn't exactly his client. But Dr. Po wasn't going to win this one if he had anything to say about it.
Po snorted again. "That's nothing," he declared. "My client is a criminal mastermind."
Cade choked on my beer. "Are you certain?" he asked shakily.
"Oh yes," confirmed Po.
"Your client must trust you quite a bit," Cade managed.
Po laughed bitterly. "I wish!" he said. "It's nothing he's told me, and it's nothing provable, but it's quite clear for anyone who goes looking with an open mind."
Cade took another swig, carefully considering his options. To be honest, he thought, ruefully amused, unless I bring up the superhero thing, they aren't all that good. "One of my clients," he said finally, "had both a natural talent for and an overwhelming interest in psychology."
Now Po just smirked. "My client had a degree in psychology—under a pseudonym, but I'm pretty sure it was him. And he knew ever answer in the book—any book—and could manipulate the doctors. Not that he did; I think he considered us beneath his attention."
Cade took another swig. This wasn't good, he knew: the beer wasn't really heavy, but he'd been drinking before he started the contest, and at the rate he was going he'd end up completely drunk.
Wait… Po worked at a private boys school, he knew. And from what he'd heard of the establishment, he doubted rather severely that there was anything…non-conventional.
"One of my clients," he offered, "was a goth."
At this, Po actually looked perplexed. "Huh," he grunted. "Well, you've got me there, Dr. Maboroshi." He took a large gulp of beer. "My turn," he declared.
He took a long time, an expression of careful consideration on his face. Finally, he announced, "One of my clients got in trouble because his bodyguard had snuck onto campus."
Again, Cade couldn't match his. Again, Cade drank some beer.
It's annoying, he reflected: I know that I can beat him, but not without breaking client confidentiality—something that I'm not prepared to do, especially not to win a damn drinking contest.
As a result of keeping faith, though, he was rapidly drinking his way into unconsciousness. His last thought before the darkness descended was, I have got to look up this mysterious client of his…
Cade Maboroshi woke up and let loose a groan, then winced. I really shouldn't have drunk so much beer, he reflected. I really, really shouldn't have.
Hangovers, he was sure, were Someone's way of showing that alcohol shouldn't be trusted.
Right now, he couldn't even remember what he'd been doing drinking: he wouldn't normally allow himself to drink to excess. No one had died, he was sure of that…
Oh, yes. That drinking contest with Po. Why did I agree to that? he thought ruefully. I hate hangovers. Shows me for being overconfident, I suppose…
Still, he couldn't help but wonder who Po's mysterious client was. He wasn't about to ask Po, but, he decided, with what Po told me while he was drunk, I can probably work it out.
With a painful grunt, he managed to walk to his laptop…only to find himself rapidly changing directions and hanging for the bathroom, instead.
Hangovers are awful, he decided, and this is why: not only do they give you the worst headache known to mankind, they also make you throw up while doing so—something that's painful under the best of circumstances and does not, I assure you, do anything for your headache.
His vomiting dealt with, he returned to his computer. He looked up Dr. Po, and it wasn't too hard to discover the school he was working for: St. Bartleby's. Cade also noticed that Po hadn't been joking about the difficult of the job: before Po'd arrived on the scene, someone at that place had driven off a half dozen psychiatrists within the space of a month and a half of school starting—some of whose names Cade even recognized, though he'd never actually met any of them.
It followed, then, that whoever had been driving them off had arrived that year. He searched the site, and lo and behold: there was a list of students for every year. He copied the list, then Googled them—but though there was plenty about the boys' parents, there was very little about the boys themselves.
Until one name: Artemis Fowl the Second.
Artemis Fowl, Junior, was a most interesting boy. It seemed that—though there was, of course, absolutely nothing really suspicious—he'd managed to rebuild the family fortune quite handily after his father had died—very handily, indeed. Almost, Cade suspected, too handily…
Further searching showed me that the Fowl name had quite a history behind it—for a long time, they had run quite a criminal empire indeed, although nothing was provable. It was all very interesting, and he wanted to find out more.
He decided to wait until the hangover wore off, though.
Several hours later, Cade was right as rain and still very curious. He went strolling down by the slums, searching for one particular bar.
It didn't take long for him to find it: The Raven's Beak was an old favourite, despite the fact that it's location meant that he rarely found himself here. He ordered a beer—I won't drink it unless I absolutely have to—and waited.
He didn't have to wait long. His contact, Jimmy, was a regular at this bar, and most evenings he could be found in here, drinking the hours away. He walked in, and Cade waved him over.
"Hey," called Maboroshi, "Jimmy!"
His contact searched for the source of the cry, and when he saw Cade, his expression abruptly darkened. He couldn't leave, though: he owed the psychiatrist quite a bit, and Cade had some material on him that could land him in quite a bit of trouble. It was possible that he'd evade the charges that he was, in fact, innocent of, but the investigations into these would doubtlessly reveal that he made a living stealing from the wealthy. Without, Cade thought drly, giving to the poor.
Jimmy came over and also ordered a beer, eyeing Cade with great suspicion. "Maboroshi," he said sourly. "Great. What are you doing here?"
"Nothing that will get you in trouble," assured Cade airily.
His sour look deepened. "Last time you said that, I nearly ended up in jail," he pointed out.
"Well, yes," conceded Cade. "But last time, I was on a case. This time, it's just something I want to know to assuage my own curiosity—no crime involved, I promise you."
Jimmy's expression cleared somewhat and he sat back in his seat, relieved. "That I can believe," he admitted. "All right, Maboroshi, what do you want to know?"
"What do you know about the Fowl family, Jimmy?"
Jimmy's face was quickly suffused with alarm, all traces of relief forgotten. "What are you doing, Maboroshi?" he asked me. "What are you embroiled in this time?"
"Nothing, nothing," Cade reassured him quickly. "But…a fellow psychiatrist was psychiatrist to Artemis Fowl the Second, and he seemed to have nightmares about treating him."
Jimmy barked a laugh. "I'll believe that!" he said, once more relieved. "The Fowl family…" He shook his head.
"I understand they have a history of criminality," remarked the former profiler neutrally.
Jimmy nodded. "Nothing the police would believe, you understand. And Artemis Fowl the First has gone completely legit. But his son…nasty piece of work. You wouldn't want to cross him, especially with that bodyguard of his. He's a Butler, you know."
A Butler? Cade had heard of them, and even met one or two. He'd also heard that they were trained, from birth, to be bodyguards to some European family. It was probable, thought Maboroshi, that the Fowls are that family…
The lure was too great, and his curiosity could not resist: right then and there, he decided that he'd do his best to meet Fowl, and maybe his associate, face to face...
