Thanks to: shiningpearls, Readergirl99, The Littlest Mouse, Jolinn, Spencerblue, Steinbock, 6000j and Shadow914 for the reviews.
Awesome to wake up to so many reviews overnight. I was worried that chapter was a bit 'filler'y but I'm glad you all liked it! Practically the whole Review Crew sent in their thoughts in less than 16 hours! My inbox was jammed full of 'FanFiction - Review: Days of Reckoning' alerts all day!
Damn you're all so awesome...
On with the show!
WARNINGS: Swearing, themes of domestic abuse, dark thoughts courtesy of our favourite junior bodyguard, a grey cat...
CHAPTER NINETEEN
On Hold
Durrick Court, Dublin
Dom decided to leap the fence by the dumpers. Not only was he not sure if Geoffrey the security guard would still be on duty this late, he also didn't want to get caught on the flat block's one singular, functioning security camera at the gates.
It would have been easier if he could have had a boost over the railings, but he was too proud to ask. He scrambled up anyway and dropped down into the carpark. A shiver passed over him.
Someone walking over your grave? – his mother would say if he told her. Teasingly. Hug him. Tell him not to worry. That no one would touch him while she was about.
He shook his head to clear it. He wasn't a little kid any more. And none of that was true these days.
He leapt the stairs three at a time, almost silently, slinking quickly down the corridor that led to the door of the flat he had lived in on and off for his entire life. Next door, Mrs O's lights were off. Good. The last thing he needed was her hearing him and coming out for a middle-of-the-night chat.
A high-pitched noise had him jumping as if someone had fired a shot in his direction and he let out his breath very slowly.
"I can't let you in," he muttered very quietly as one of his neighbour's cats mewed at him again, its tail curled in a friendly hook at the tip. He stroked it's back as it wound around his ankles and picked it up very gently to place it on its owner's windowsill. "You stay out here, Smokey."
Steeling himself, he reaching his hand into his pocket for the key. He held it tightly, trapping the keyring hanging from it in his palm so that it didn't rattle against the door when he slotted it into the lock.
Dom turned the key slowly in the door, holding the handle firmly so that it wouldn't drop and make the tell-tale clunk that he had listened out for for years now since Paul had damaged the lock in one of his 'strops' as Mam called them.
He pushed it open a crack, the smell of cigarette smoke seeping through the frame. Paul was home then. And his mother wasn't. Mam didn't allow him to smoke in the flat when she was in there with him. Or maybe that had changed now.
He stepped inside and closed the door, essentially trapping himself. He tried not to think to hard about that. He could already hear the rumbling snores from the flat's one, official bedroom. Good. Snoring was good. It usually meant Paul had almost certainly gone to bed drunk and that not much short of a bomb going off under his pillow would wake him. He relaxed. Ever so slightly. Creeping down the corridor past his 'room' he breathed another quiet sigh of relief that Paul liked to sleep with the door closed on account of 'privacy from you, you little turd'. At least that should give him some warning if the man woke up.
Although warning to do what exactly, he didn't yet have a plan for. There weren't a great many places to hide in the flat and Paul knew them all as well as he did. With this in mind, he left the front door unlocked. He'd have to make a run for it, even if that meant performing the same parkour-based 'corridor evasion' technique he had had to employ last year when the man had tried to run him into the living room at the dead-end of the flat. Paul had complained about the boot prints on the wall for weeks until he'd spent several hours scrubbing them off.
He took a breath. Present. Focus on the present.
The keys would be in the bowl in the kitchen.
He padded silently past the closed door and stepped onto the lino, his mind reprinting the bloody smears on the fake tiles in the moonlight falling through the kitchen window, shadowy branches glared in at him, motionless. He blinked and the stains vanished, but he had to take several slow breaths through his nose to steady his heartbeat.
That didn't help much; it still stank of the bleach Pash had used to help him clean the floor.
He hoped his mother had already taken all of her various keys and keyrings off the set he needed or else he would have to start removing them here or bring them back unnoticed, because she would want to keep them. The plastic-encased photo of him and her on a log flume a decade ago. The novelty bottle opener. The numerous keys she claimed she couldn't remember belonged to what locks but kept anyway. Yes, he'd have to bring those back...
His stomach dropped suddenly.
You idiot!
You fucking idiot.
Of course he couldn't take the keys! The insurance wouldn't pay out without a lengthy investigation of how on earth someone broke into the flat, stole only the exact keys for the clapped out banger on the road outside and got in and out without waking Paul who was in the flat at the time. Would they pay out for lost keys and a stolen vehicle?
He had three choices.
1) Claim he had lost the keys when making the 'FOR SALE' sign for the car and take the rap for it
2) Break the lock on the door of the flat – silently as possible
3) Break into the car and hotwire it
The last option would make more sense in the police report and, presuming he didn't get caught, would avoid him getting into any more trouble.
He had risked coming up here for nothing. He snarled silently at his own stupidity and made his way back out towards the door. He had his fingers on the handle to freedom when it happened.
The first thing was that as soon as the door opened wide enough, Mrs O'Neill's grey cat shot through the gap. He lunged for it and grabbed it, the animal hissing in alarm and spinning to sink it's sharp teeth and claws into his forearm.
This would have been bad enough, without the second occurrence...
The phone's shrill tone rang through the still air of the flat, cutting through the snorting inhalations of the man with every aspiration to make himself his step-father. Dom snatched it off the wall in an act of pure, instinctive self-preservation, holding it his ear automatically, though he had no intention of speaking to whoever had quite possibly just blown his chance of getting out of the flat unnoticed. He cradled the cat under one arm and it growled reproachfully at him.
Shit shit shit shit shit.
The time between the disturbed grunting and the next snore seemed impossibly long and the teen was just about to replace the phone and make a run for it, when a voice crackled through the other end so loudly he was surprised Paul didn't answer the question himself.
"Hel...o? Is...a...one th..."
Dom stayed silent, hardly daring to move the phone away from his ear lest his head be the only thing blocking the soundwaves.
"Pl... is someo... ere? Hello? Fu..k pl..se.. on't... put... e... on hold..."
The quality of the call was terrible but there was something about the desperation in the voice that filtered through the static that held his attention.
"Hello?" he answered, voice barely above a breath. "Who is this?"
There was a rush of static at the other end – a sigh of relief, maybe – then the voice spoke again.
"... need t... sp...k... to... 'resa Brady... s... she still... ive here?"
Dom's hand tightened on the handset. He was suddenly very, very glad he had been here to answer the phone after all. If Paul had not only been woken up by the midnight caller, but it had been someone asking for his girlfriend... Dom tried not to imagine the repercussions of that.
"Yes. She's not here now, but I can take a message," he said, as clearly as he could without raising his voice.
"Yes! Tha... k-you... Tell her I'm...not...d..."- the line crackled violently, shouting on the other end interrupting the man.
"Tell her you're not what? I can't hear you," Dom told the stranger.
"B... y... not...ed! Not de...d! Fin... les... tler.."
"What? Get knotted? Finals? Tell her? Tell her what – say that again!" Dom said, almost forgetting he was supposed to be keeping quiet.
"...ind... ow...anor! Find my b...r! Find... My...s!"
"Find your what?" he asked, crushing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he readjusted the cat, smoothing it as placatingly as he could; pleading with it to stop wriggling. He knew he was lucky it had been Smokey, who was more forgiving and liked him. Had it been the cat's brother, Bandit, he would be covered in a fresh set of lacerations and likely chasing the cat around the kitchen by now like a vicious, furry ping-pong ball.
"My br...r! Or fa... er!"
It sounded like the man was being attacked. There were several sharp thwacks Dom had heard too many times not to know were punches - being dished out effectively, as far as he could tell, for the man on the phone continued once more.
"...But...rs! Go to the... ut...rs!"
"But what? Got to the what? Hello?"
"Kee...ooking!"
"Cooking?"
"Just find me!"
"Find you?"
"Yes! Fi...d...me! Fi...eck...t...Bu...r! I'm ...n a... shi...!"
"You're in shit?" Dom asked. It sounded like the man was, to be honest.
"Yes - but... ey've... ot... s on a... ip!"
The call was almost entirely intelligible now. He heard cracks in the background. More solid than the fizzling airwaves. They sounded like... If he hadn't heard them over a poorly tuned radio before, he would have perhaps passed it off as interference. But that sounded like... gunshots.
"Where are you?"
"Got...go! So...y!"
"Who are you? Tell me something I can use!" he snapped. "Tell me something important! Tell me who you are!"
"Tell them...rav...ko...char..k...lo... and... ike...Yank...Lemur...ko...see..."
"Repeat!" Dom said, switching to military speak. "Repeat last!"
Utterly useless, he thought, frustratedly. The words "yank", "lemur" and "Ko" and "see" he recognised at least, but they were unlikely to actually be linked in any way. Not unless the Academy head had devised some mission involving pulling American primates in for observation.
There was genuine screaming from the other end of the line. Not the caller – other people. A different language he couldn't recognise. More popping cracks like gunfire and then...
... boooooouuuuurrrrrrr...
Nothing but the dialling tone.
A sharp 'click' brought his attention back to the hallway of the flat.
The very silent hallway of the flat.
The cat mewled quietly and he hushed it.
A little red light blinked and faded out of vision and he replaced the phone carefully.
It was Paul's latest tool of control, purchased under the guise of 'protection'; a phonecall recorder.
Automatic, he remembered the man boasting. Very modern. Top of the range...
He suddenly realised why the silence was bothering him so much.
Paul was no longer snoring.
There was a creaking of mattress springs, a rustling of duvet and the heavy thud of his heels hitting the floor.
Dom felt his adrenaline levels sky-rocket.
He'd never make it out the front door in time. Or at least not soon enough to close it again behind him.
Clutching Smokey to his chest he spun quickly behind the curtain to his own room and pressed himself into the corner, steadying the sheet of fabric as carefully as possible. It would never have worked against someone who was trained as he was; they would have noticed the disturbance in the air currents. But against Paul, who was neither trained, sober or even fully awake...
Had he heard him? Did he know he was there?
Dom held his breath and listened.
The bedroom door dragged open and Paul lumbered past to the bathroom, the curtain rippling in his wake. He was never quiet or considerate - even in the middle of the night - Dom knew that from the experience of sleeping in the adjacent room to the toilet and having been disturbed many a time by the crashing of the door on the radiator as he flung it open and the loud voiding of the man's bladder.
He was barely breathing. Smokey mewled sharply and he gritted his teeth, realising he was probably holding the cat a bit tight.
"Shh shh shh, please just hush," he breathed, pressing his shoulderblades into the corner of the walls and placing his lips gently on the feline's head, scratching its chest gently. Smokey rumbled in his grip and he silently hoped it would be the loudest noise the animal would make for the next few minutes at least. Paul never flushed the toilet at night - or often in the day, to be honest - which had always annoyed Dom. Surely if you'd already woken the whole flat and the neighbours above, adjacent and below, galumphing around slamming doors, the flushing wouldn't make much difference.
It bothered him even more tonight, for the echoing of the refilling cistern would have covered any other noise as he made his way back to the bedroom.
Several tense seconds later, the man thundered steadily back across the hallway and Dom had to force himself not to close his eyes. Not being able to see would be of no benefit at all if the man suddenly decided to pull back the curtain. And besides that, why would he?
He was unnoticed; a shadow.
For a few moments he felt a strange sense of power come over him.
Paul had no idea he wasn't alone in the darkened flat.
His thoughts did not so much stray as stride purposefully to one possibility.
Well.
It's true.
Pa was right.
That he could do it.
He could do it right now.
No-one need know it was him.
He could smash the place up a bit.
Afterwards, so it looked like a break in.
Plant some of the drugs he knew Paul had.
Make it look like an escalated argument.
His DNA was all over the flat anyway.
And if he decided not to kill him.
Paul would never see his face.
He could just scare him.
Knock him out cold.
At the very least.
Leave him.
Alone.
He'd only be returning the favour...
The bedroom door crashed shut, the bed groaning in complaint once more.
The moment had passed. He had let it. Shelved those thoughts for another day.
He had a cat in his arms and no real plan, after all.
Dom waited, stock still, for what felt like an age.
The cat, bored with the whole thing now, twisted onto its back and batted at his chin.
Time to move.
He slipped back out from behind the curtain and was relieved to hear, though not snoring exactly, deep, even, heavy breathing coming from the bedroom.
He made for the door, but the blinking red light caught his eye again, drawing his attention.
He bit his lip, making a snap decision.
Without a second thought, he shuggled Smokey under one arm, popped the cassette out of the answering machine and pocketed it, pulling a new tape from the small drawer on the phone stand and tearing the plastic off with his teeth. It crinkled painfully sharply in the dull quiet and the cat's ears pricked towards the sound. Careful to leave no trace of the wrapper behind, he slotted it into place and closed the machine back up. Hopefully it would be months before Paul noticed – if at all.
Heart still racing in his chest, he awkwardly repeated his manoeuvre with the handle and placed the grey feline safely back down outside in the corridor.
"Don't go in there again, you hear me?" he warned. "You stay out here where it's safe."
Smokey's green eyes flashed at him in the artificial lighting and he stalked away, perhaps offended the boy thought he wasn't perfectly capable of keeping himself safe.
Dom felt the corner of the cassette tape in his pocket and set off down the corridor at a brisk walk.
The air wasn't nearly cold enough for his liking. His t-shirt stuck to his back as though he had ran all the way down the stairs and back to the street outside. He climbed swiftly onto the top of the dumpster and leapt over the fence. It was easier on the way out. He knew that from experience. He had made a much swifter exit over this fence before now, chased by a much-less-gymnastic Paul.
He dropped down onto the pavement. Artemis and Pash were where he had left them – and both still standing, he was glad to see.
"You took your sweet time," Pash noted.
"Did you get them?" Artemis demanded immediately, eyes flitting up and down as though there was something illegal about standing in the street in the wee hours of the morning. Unusual, perhaps. But nothing they had yet done was illegal. Unless, of course, he and Pash had indeed bought something from one of the local drug dealers whilst he'd been upstairs.
Dom shook his head. "Had a thought."
"The insurance," Pash said, folding her arms knowingly. "Right, jarhead?"
Dom nodded this time. "They won't pay out if the keys are gone."
"Damn," Artemis said, actually going so far to slam his fist into his palm. "Now what do we do?"
"Hotwire it, obviously. I thought you said this guy was smart?"
"Leave it, Pash. He doesn't get out much."
Artemis opened his mouth in protest, but Dom ignored him. The mindless bickering was settling his heart-rate as fast as any meditation.
It's ok. You're out. You're fine. Everyone's fine. Everyone's safe.
"Did you get in and out ok at least?" Pash asked, noticing something going on behind his dark eyes. "Did Paul see..."
"Do I look like he saw me?" Dom cut her off with a dismissive snort.
"Good," she said, quietly.
"Smokey nearly got me caught, the little shit," he said, making a joke of it. "But no, nobody saw me so far as I know."
"Bloody cats," Pash chuckled, a little nervously. She knew Mrs O'Neil's pets by name, of course.
Artemis felt he was missing something but decided to ask later when they were not stood in an insecure location in the middle of the night. The Major would be so proud. Well, not the part of about how or why they were out here, but the fact he had considered the risk of prolonging their time here. Tim lamented the fact he could never, because of the aforementioned facts, share the thought with his bodyguard.
The man's nephew appeared to be inspecting the car. He tapped the glass with two fingers.
He didn't want to smash it...
"You got a tennis ball?" Dom asked Pash, suddenly.
"Anuj had one and he was throwing it at my door constantly the other day so I confiscated it."
"You mean you beat him up until he gave it to you," Dom said, knowingly.
"Yep! Used that wrist lock you showed me, actually."
"Awesome," Dom grinned. "So you do have a tennis ball?"
"Well, he wanted it back but I hid it and told Amma I never had it in the first place. Pretty sure she believed me for once," she said, a little smugly. "Because Anuj couldn't exactly say I'd wrestled him until he gave it up."
"So you do have a ball?"
"Yeah."
"Then why didn't you just say yes in the first place?" Dom asked, exasperated. "Can I have it?"
"Too easy," she grinned. "And that depends - are you gonna give it back?"
"Maybe half of it if you really want," he cringed.
"You're going to get me into so much shit, you know that?"
"Only if you get caught," Dom winked. "I'll get him another one, I swear."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll go get it. Then you two twits can be on your way and somebody else's problem when you get caught..."
Artemis frowned. Calling them both 'twits' was a bit unfair - she had only just met him... Junior she may have formed a more longterm opinion on, but...
"Oh –one more thing," Dom said, before she could leave.
"What? You want me to drive the car for you now, too?"
"Hell no – but can you take this," he said, pulling a rectangle from his pocket. "Hide it for me."
"What is it?"
"Phone call. It's recorded off Paul's phone recording thingy. I need you to keep it safe."
"Why?"
"If we get pulled on the way home I don't want to explain what it is to the garde," he said and Artemis felt a little unnerved that the Butler boy seemed quite certain it was no small possibility they would get caught.
They had now completed the legal part of their escapade, after all. Nothing illegal about two teenage boys cycling across a county, followed by one of them walking into their mother's flat using a key, whilst the other stood on a street with a friend. This... this was about to become something else. Not that the illegality of the actions bothered him as such, but more that he was on the 'front-line' of a crime for a change. Normally he was several times removed from the event itself and quite safe from any repercussions from it. Or at least personally.
"Yeah alright, I get that," said Pash. "But why's it important - what's on the tape?"
Dom looked like he didn't want to tell her for a moment, then spoke anyway. "I literally just answered it now and it was someone trying to get hold of my mum. But the line was terrible. I want to listen to it again and see if I can understand any of it."
"Okaaay," Pash said, raising an eyebrow but holding her hand out for the tape all the same.
"Don't look at me like that - I still have three of your rock tapes stashed for you."
"Yeah and why do you think you have those? Because I can't hide shit from Abba."
"ABBA? Like the band?" interrupted Artemis, with a frown of confusion.
"What?"
"They're Swedish, I believe."
"Yeah I know that. I'm just wondering why you think I'd be worried about a pop band are going through my things," Pash drawled. "Seriously, what is with this guy?"
"It means father," Dom explained. "In her language. I thought you only listened to music if the composer had been dead for like a century?"
"That's not true!" Artemis protested.
"Yeah, but Eurovision?" Dom snorted.
"Angeline likes them," he muttered.
"Oh right. That makes sense."
"Who?"
"His girlfriend," Dom told her.
"She's... she's not really my..."
"Basically is, though, isn't she?" Dom grinned and shoved his elbow gently. "Else why the fuck are we going to all this trouble to impress her?"
"It's not to impress her!" Artemis said, flustered. "Besides, Angeline would never condone..."
"Oh, the girl you've got a crush on?" Pash realised aloud. "I see. So all boys are completely stupid when it comes to their crushes. Good to know."
"I... well..." Artemis started. "It's not stupidity, it's merely good, old-fashioned competitive spirit. It's not even about Angeline..."
"Aww, see?" Pash said, turning to her friend with a smirk. "Cute. This is how stupid you sound when you start talking about how you're not into R..."
"Tennis ball, please. Now," Dom said smartly, cutting her off and pushing her across the street before she could say anything else Artemis would ask questions about later. "Chuck the tape in with my stuff. Say it's some sort of Top Secret thing if Abba asks."
"And is it?"
"Just hide it would you?" Dom sighed. "Please. And hurry up. We haven't got long before dawn and Pa will be up and about at sunrise and expect me to be training with him."
Pash snorted. "Sounds like a massive 'you' problem if you ask me..."
"Pasha!"
"Alright, but you owe me six races on the new one at the Arcade."
"Look if I survive this shit I'll pay for twelve – just please grab me the ball and then pretend you haven't seen us."
"I'll do one better," said Pash as she crossed the street. "When the police are called tomorrow, I'll pop down and tell them I saw a man and a woman stealing your mother's car and driving off into the night. That way – " she pointed the opposite direction to the one they would be taking – "Now come on, tell me you'd be hopeless without me."
Dom shook his head with a laugh.
"Yeah, yeah - alright, you're a hero."
"And you," she said with a wry look. "Are an idiot."
She disappeared up the fire escape and into her window. She was gone just long enough for Artemis to turn to his companion and ask quietly.
"So this Pash... is she, you know... your girlfriend?"
Dom snorted. "Tim, you have no idea."
"Is that a no?"
"That's definitely a no. And please don't say anything like that in front of her. She'll bust both our balls," he laughed. "Me and Pash grew up together."
"Oh I see. Kind of like... well, like we have."
"Well yeah, except for the whole class divide thing between us two."
"Ouch," said Artemis.
"Sorry," Dom smiled, apologetically. "I just mean she can't order me about."
"I beg to differ there, old friend."
Dom scowled. But the Fowl did have a point.
"Just from the limited exposure I've had so far," Artemis said, with a sharp-toothed grin.
"What did you talk about when I was in the flat?" Dom asked with a suspicious glance.
"Oh, nothing really..." said Artemis lightly - and in a way which made Dom very concerned indeed.
"Psst – jarhead!"
Pash interrupted their conversation from her front window, throwing a ball down onto the road. It bounced and Dom's hand flashed out to catch it before it hit Artemis square in the face – a coincidence it ricocheted in that direction, of course.
"And you'll be wanting this too, I should think," she said, tossing a wire coat-hanger onto the street. It clattered, seemingly loudly in the still night air and Dom swore under his breath.
"Go on – go to bed," he flapped his hand at her.
"A thanks would be nice!"
"Yes, thank-you! Thank-you oh gracious, clever one – now fuck off!"
She grinned, her teeth bright in the light from the streetlamp and slid her window closed with a soft thud. Dom breathed a small sigh of relief. At least now she could claim ignorance.
He pulled a penknife from his belt, flipped it open and carefully cut the tennis ball in half. Artemis watched intently, but knew better than to speak up and ask what he was doing. The young bodyguard spat onto his hand and rubbed the rim of one half of the ball over his wet palm, squeezing it out of shape. Next he pressed it against the window of the Mini and forced all of the air out of the half-sphere, releasing it gently. It stuck there, like a fuzzy, green handle.
Simple physics, Artemis realised. He's created a vacuum; and thus a point of leverage.
His future employee then demonstrated some of the skills he would not technically be employed for in the future (although they would almost certainly be called upon again) and, using the tennis ball handle and the wire coat-hanger he had bent to his requirements, he manoeuvred the window until he could slide the coat-hanger between the glass and the metal of the frame and jimmied the lock on the door. There was a quiet 'clunk' and moments later the door popped open.
"OK," the young Butler said, leaning into the car and popping the lock on the other door. "Go get the bikes and we'll shove them in the back. It's not a quiet engine so I have to get it started on the first couple of goes. If it won't start, we bail. Bikes back out and we cycle home and think of another plan, OK?"
"For the sake of my legs I hope you can get it started," Artemis grumbled, going to fetch the bikes whilst his friend pulled the seat forward to get them in.
Dom felt like pointing out there was a whole lot more than Artemis's quads to be worrying about, but he didn't.
It took longer than expected to cram the bicycles into the back of the Mini. They barely fit, but the teenagers were desperate. Getting them out again in a hurry would be just as difficult - not that Dom needed any more pressure.
Whilst the Fowl struggled with a set of handlebars preventing him from putting the passenger seat back in place, he slipped into the driver's side, flung the cardboard 'FOR SALE' sign he'd made for the windscreen on top of the bikes and tugged the plastic cover from its housing under the steering wheel with a small wince.
Sorry Henry, he thought. Needs must.
And then; please start, please start, please start...
Artemis finally clunked the seat into position, sitting down with a flop and closing the door. There was a reason he paid people to do all his manual labour for him. He was perspiring, for heaven's sake...
"Are we ready?" he asked.
Junior gave a nod. "Well, we're ready to try."
"I have every faith in you," Artemis assured him.
"Thanks," Dom muttered.
"I didn't mean to add any more..."
But he was cut off by the coughing of the Mini as the Butler performed some wire trickery and urged the engine into life. It turned over once, twice... and then...
"OK, buckle up let's go!" Dom said swiftly, grabbing his seatbelt, dropping the handbrake and pulling the Mini out onto the street all seemingly simultaneously.
It bumped down off the kerb and they were away.
Dom waited until they cleared the corner before he flicked the headlights on and Artemis couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face as they sped away into the warm night.
They had a scary moment when they were stopped at a traffic light at a crossroads and Artemis suggested they run it.
"There's no-one about," he said, looking around nervously.
"Never do something illegal whilst you're doing something illegal," Dom quoted firmly, grip flexing on the steering wheel. "Half of all bank robberies are foiled because the getaway vehicle was uninsured."
"Really?"
"No. That's a bullshit statistic Pa told me once, but you catch the drift."
A police car drifted past in front of them without so much as glancing in their direction.
Dom raised an eyebrow. See?
When they reached the rural roads, Artemis turned to his companion.
"You know something, Junior?" he said. "I think we might actually achieve this."
"What you're experiencing is called an endorphin rush," the Butler said with a dry snort. "Comes from exercise and the come down from adrenaline. If you like it, maybe you should work out more."
"Now steady on," Artemis said with a chuckle.
Dom leaned across and opened the glovebox, pulling out a cassette and chucking it onto Aretmis's lap.
"Stick that in the radio."
"What is it?"
"Just put it on. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."
"Rock music?" Artemis mused, looking at the artwork on the box.
"Well I'm not keeping hold of tapes for Pash and not getting use out of them."
The Fowl popped the case and slotted the cassette into the player, pressing the buttons experimentally until, after a few seconds of fuzzy half-silence, the eight drumstick beat count-in began the blasting of rock music through the Mini's tinny speakers. Artemis would never have picked it to listen to himself and wouldn't have ordinarily attributed it to the cassette tape's owner.
But he rolled the window down and as the wind ragged its fingers through his dark hair and the dawn began breaking in a line of silvery-gold light on the eastern horizon, his under-aged driver steered them expertly through the countryside to the tune of AC/DC's 'Back in Black' and he couldn't help but smile broadly.
They were going to do this. They were really going to do this.
Oooh maybe Paul should add Smokey the cat to the list of things he should be thankful of... Did we like the weird experiment I did with the text layout? Don't think I've tried that before. Seemed cool at the time.
Weird phonecall, eh? Hard to understand. Hmm. That needs some in depth analysis at some point but feel free to forget about it for now... ;)
By the way, definitely one of my favourite songs right there. AC/DC Back in Black. Solid, country road, driving a banger, banger. A friend of mine burned a CD for me once and accidentally chose the dubstep version of it, which is also excellent but probably not available in 1979...
Anyhoo, I hope you liked that! They have a car, now they just have to do something with it...
Wolfy
ooo
O
07/06/20