Butler stepped aside to let a man with pitch-black hair pass by and even tried for a half-smile. It didn't work too well. At least the man smiled back so openly that his good mood was almost palpable. Not much of a chance that this happiness would leap to Butler.

A few well-polished marble stairs later, he stopped dead in his tracks, gave the whole staircase a once-over and drew his Sig Sauer from his holster. Something hang in the air, definitely nothing good. It took him anotherlandingto specifie the feeling, breaking it down to what it really was: a smell of iron.

Blood. And a trace of gunpowder.

His thoughts flicked back to the happy smiling passerby which made him curse quietly. If he'd turned now, he maybe stood a chance to outrun the man. But that would've meant leaving whatever - or more likely:whoever - was upstairs to his fate. If he wasn't mistaken according the identity of the person whose blood had filled the stairway with the distinctive smell of copper and iron, Butler was as far away from feeling pity as you could possibly get but on the other hand ...

On the other hand, he hadn't come here to stand musing in a damn staircase!

Another handful of steps later he found his hunch confirmed. The blood that seeped through the open door and the obviously dead body in the doorframe was enough information for him to turn on his heels and dash down the stairs, taking three at a time. Somewhere upstairs a door opened, followed by the obligatory moment of silence and then the obligatory loud scream, that echoed through the house and forced the other doors to open as well. At that moment, Butler was already outside. So was the black-haired man. Out of the door. Out of reach most probably. Butler swore in a manner that would've made his sister stare in disbelief and checked the street, just in case. Nobody there but sirens to disrupted silent, if not holy, night or better afternoon. Time to make himself vanish,hanging around at the scene of a murder was never a good idea but if you were a man at nearly two metres height, armed and a look like you were capable of tearing the house down with your bare hands, you better avoid any crime scene within the perimeter of a mile.

The man with the pitch-black hair (which was dyed, to be perfectly honest, since his age was nothing he wanted to hawk around with) was indeed in an almost euphorical mood. He had never met this Carl before but he knew him by reputation. Not a great loss, honestly. He was after the money, which was technically okay but dropping any sense of loyalty for going after mere cash was something beyond Nicholas. He never felt guilty for anything and there had never been a thing he had shied away from, no matter what Linus had asked him to do. Ask was the key word here. They were friends, they trusted and respected each other and they were equal partners and not superior and subordinate, which was why they did never gave each other orders. The asked like normal people did. The only thing that was different was the subjects they were asking for help. Like, say, executing a now needless driver who had already proven to be not incorruptible.

So, Nicholas never had to obey anything that Linus said. He could easily say no and both he and Fitch knew that Nicholas was probably the only one who could do so without having to fear punishment for being reluctant. But he never said no. Because things didn't bother him. There was only one border for him, the red line he would never cross and that was backstabbing. It almost made him sad that he had to kill Carl so quickly, without the opportunity to tell him what his opinion about people like him was.

Nevertheless, Nicholas felt good. It had been a while since his last kill and it always made him feel like he was born for a second time. Well, this was rather the umpteenth time he was born, following that line of thought but it always was an exciting, strangely new experience. Omega, he thought and smiled whilst he wandered the silent streets of Dublin back to his car.

But still there was something that bothered him. He had been seen and he knew exactly, by could be a problem later on. Nicholas had considered the option to kill the other on the spot but after reminding himself of the warnings Linus had given him he had let go of that. There was no need for a fight or a shooting in a cramped stairway. Linus' plan covered Butler as a risk. Nicholas smiled and started the engine of the car. Of course it did. Linus might be brutal when it came to his subordinated as soon as they started to be useless or an incalculable risk or turned out as traitors but he cared about his friends. Which was a good character trait, since Linus did not have more friends than fingers on one hand. Rather less.

Artemis was counting. In steps of seven, starting with thousand and then counting down. Normal people could use that to divert their thoughts from actual pain or fear because the brain was busy with the unusual task.

Unfortunately, Artemis was not any kind of normal you could possibly think of and counting in steps of seven was something he used to do as some sort of sleeping aid. It bored him. But what he feared was not the sheer boredom he faced now but rather the moment that state changed. While most other boys of his age would've been unsettled, waiting for some kind of event to take place, unable to be left alone all by themselves and to face their own thoughts, with nothing audible than their own heartbeat and breathing, Artemis wished it would stay this way. His cheek was still burning where the man had hit him and the chair he was sat on was biuld in an annoying anti-ergonomical way. Still, Artemis knew that if things changed, they'd rather change for worse than for better. Unless, of course, Butler found him. And so, Artemis did all that he could do: wait. And try to calm himself with collecting facts.

There were not many facts he could hold on to. Actually, given the situation a closer look, none. The man with the clearly dyed black hear and the shining smile he remembered somewhat dizzy. Probably, if his theory was correct, he had been the one to pick him up, meaning that he had been sedated with something. His head was still stinging at times, which made him feel sorry for Holly back then.

I'll offer her my apologies as soon as I have the opportunity to do so.

Thinking hurt. But he couldn't allow himself to take a rest. He might not be able to escape the ties, let alone the room he was sitting in but there was something he could do and that was using his extraordinary mind. The fact that this hurt was the rather frustrating point in this plan, it made him feel like an invalid.

Check yourself. You are Artemis Fowl. Thinking is your talent. Thinking is what distinguishes you from anybody else.

What did he know for sure? Well, he was here, that was a fact except he wanted do assume some sort of hallucinational delusion. That was tautological. Pull yourself together.

What had happened before? He did not remember exactly but ... something had kept Butler from picking him up punctual. That included at least a middle-scaled catastrophe.

To what conclusion did this lead him? Artemis winced as the headache increased promptly, leaving him gasping for breath for a few painful moments. Then the headache decreased.

Artemis didn't dare to open his eyes yet but he moved on with his thinking. It would be negligent and naiv to not see this two events as coherent. He hoped that both Juliet and her brother were fine. Aretmis could not think of another way to distract his bodyguard than either attacking himself or his sister.

A sudden movement outside his field of vision made him jump and then groan slightly, as the ropes tied around his wrists gashed into his skin. Nevertheless, he was able to pull himself together before the door opened behind him. Artemis felt a little, just a tiny spark of ego flicker in his chest. It quenched, however, as the slow, heavy steps drained every feeling from his brain, except fear.

Artemis Fowl, he thought desperately. The Second. A Fowl. Check yourself. It helped a bit, just a bit. But it helped. His heartbeat almost normalized. Then, the perpetrator of the steps appeared in his vision. A little later than possible but Artemis had resisted the overwhelming urge to turn his head after him. He was a Fowl. Fowls did not turn their heads as their enemies wished them to.

The man that had entered was surprisingly unthreatening. To be fair, he looked like the polite uncle from next-door (of course that were not Artemis' exact thoughts, since if you grew up with Juliet at your side who's calling somebody like the Major "uncle" the word gets a slightly different meaning). Following Artemis' calculations according to his growing height, he may tower the man within the next two years. The lack of height seemed to be evened by the weight and extent of the man and talking about this specific feature, Artemis hoped fervently that he would never tower the man in this dimension.

But small and fat or not, something was in the man's eyes that made Artemis shiver. Again, the expression of a cold or dark glare is something you smile about after growing up with Butler and the Major but they seemed to be made for this man. Not that Artemis would admit that but he was scared. Actual fear.

The idle smile did not reach to that cold, steely eyes. Neither did the gruff voice fit to anything else on that man. He seemed like a walking ensemble of contradictions.

"Ah, Artemis," the man said and widened his spooky grin until he looked like the Cheshire Cat. "Nicholas told me you are awake. I'm sorry he had to leave you but there were some things on agenda he had to take care of."

Artemis forced a straight look on his face, despite his again racing heart. He did not want to now what thing was on that Nicholas' agenda. Might be that knowledge was power but like every human being, Artemis had some instincts left, even if he managed to ignore them most of times. The heavy man moved on, he obviously didn't care too much about the lack of an answer to his statement.

"I see, you don't have interest in conversation, do you? But for sure you'd like to know why you're here." Again, the young heir did not bother himself with an answer on what was a rhetorical question anyway. He was hardly expecting a "no thank you" as a replie.

The man smiled in silence for some headaching seconds, then let out a tiny laugh, cold as ice. Artemis did not know, but he himself had used to laugh that way earlier in his life, and he still did when he encountered somebody he wanted to unsettle. Confronted with his own strategy, he bit his tongue but remained dead silent until his counterpart felt tired of playing like a cat with an already dead mouse. The smile vanished. Artemis couldn't help but exhaled audibly.

"Fine then, Fowl. You don't need to talk now, that'll do later. Just in case you want a name to beg to later on, it's Linus. Fitch. Ever heard?"

Artemis pretended to think about it and tried to shut up the alarm that started ringing in his head at the sound of the name. But still, he was Artemis, and as he got hold of himself again, his tactics of silence - which Butler would have approved certainly - was abandoned and couldn't stant its ground against his usual cynicism. Which Butler would definitely not be happy with.

"Fitch, you say? I'm afraid, no. Who are you working for, again?" He asked and Linus' face fell. Artemis knew perfectly by himself that Lius Fitch wasn't working for anybody but himself but sometimes taunting your enemy could lead to mistakes and that, in turns, could -

The hand that made heavy contact with Artemis' face somehow interrupted his thoughts and proved them wrong at the same time. Taunting was a nice weapon in a fight but if you are tied up on a chair you better went for the schmooze-tactics.

Fitch gave the boy a few moments to clear his mind, then hit him again. The chair almost fell over and a thin line of blood started to made its way out of Artemis' nose. The young Irish was clearly confused, like most people are when they made experiences with violence they hadn't encountered before.

Artemis blinked, puzzled by the strange red drops that fell on his tailor-made snowwhite shirt and the taste of iron in his mouth. The pain made its way into his brain. That was new. And against his natural curiosity and his will to explore new things, he didn't want to explore more of that feeling. Driven by instinct, he started again to tug on the ties but got interrupted by Fitch's scornful laughter.

Fortunately. If it hadn't been for that feeling of being humiliated that hurt more than his face did, Artemis would've probably suffered a panic attack. Like this, he gathered all of his strength - which was not as much but still more than one might think - and all of his pride - which was hell of a lot - to fight the horror back and straighten in his chair as far as possible.

A Fowl, he thought repetetively. Artemis Fowl the second.

Linus stopped laughing and shifted his head to the side like a confused dog. He hadn't expected the boy to be that reluctant. Then again, what did he care about? Nicholas would take care as soon as he came back and that shouldn't take long anymore. Until that, he could as well try to get what he wanted anyway, maybe it worked. At least he'd be entertained.

Fitch hawked and talked on, trying to fake the perfect picture of an innocent man who had lost control for one pityfull moment. "See, Artemis, the reason you are here is quiet simple. Some might say its about the money but that's petty-minded. Let's say it's about ... scholarship. Inventions."

Ah, Artemis thought bluntly. My inventions, I bet. He tried to wipe the blood off his face on his shoulder but failed. This time, Linus did wait for a reply and after one minute of badgering silence, Artemis inquisitiveness finally got too big to be ignored. He sniffedbecause of the blood that still ran out of his nose and tried not to sound too nasal as he spoke.

"And what kind of invention are we talking about?"

Linus made a big show out of being surprised that his opponent actually spoke. Which was senseless. Artemis had spoken already and the blood that was still busy wasting his shirt proved that. This time, his answer was not punished. Well, not physically. But Linus started with his awkward grin again.

"Oh, I'm glad you ask, Artemis," he said and made Artemis almost sigh. He wished for an opponent that was at least clever enough to not let conversations waste away due to banalities. "You will be proud to hear that I am interested in one of your very own inventions."

Artemis nodded in a manner he hoped to be reflective. "Well, Mr Fitch, I can assure you I feel honored but usually I do not carry on conversations about patent laws this particular way."

"Oh, I know, I know. Pardon the conditions, Mr Fowl." Fitch stressed the name the same way somebody would stress the word horse turd. "But I am indeed not interested in such a contract. I don't want to buy your technology."

Artemis faked consternation. "Oh? Whatever next!"

"Mhm. But don't worry, I'll get it anyway. And not just once. As I said, I'm not interested to buy anything, Fowl. You'll tell me how to build your newest invention, how to construct it and then I will simply go build it myself. That is my plan, Artemis."

"Ah, is it?" Artemis asked bravely, partially because he had expected something like this, partially because he was though upset by it. If he had been a cool, ballsy macho boy, he had went for something along the lines of: and why should I possibly do that? But he was too aware of the answer to do so and his face still wouldn't stop hurting. Instead, he concentrated once more on gathering information that might prove itself useful sooner or later. Hopefully sooner, his hands started to get numb.

"I beg your pardon for asking you the same question again, Mr Fitch, but what invention are we talking about? I don't have only one, as you will for sure know."

"Yes, yes, I know. Excuse my imprecision, Artemis. I'm talking about that chip you invented recently." There was a slight flicker in the boy's face, as Linus recognised satisfied. Whatever he had expected, it was not that he knew about that chip. "To be precise," he continued and kept his eyes fastened on Artemis' face. "I'm not only interested in the chip itself because we already own it." I higly doubt it, Artemis thought but he was to clever to say that. "What I want to know more about is how you actually got the information? That is the technology I am interested in."

"I see," was all Artemis had to say about that but his mind was running hot like an old engine on its way over alpine mountains. Fitch seemed sure to be in possession of the chip but Artemis knew that that was very much impossible. The chip itself was somewhere very safe. The technology he gathered the information with, well, that was another story. Unfortunately that was something he could never tell somebody like Fitch about. That would've been irresponsible.

"You see what?" Linus asked suspicously. "I should warn you, kid. I'm not joking and I want that technology. Better not make me make you tell me."

The threat was cliche to the max but it wasn't idle and Artemis knew that. He had threatend enough people with soemthing, idle and serious, to tell the difference. And he knew himself well enough to face it: he was not enough of a fighter by any means to resist whatever Fitch would let him face. His mind began to give him pictures he hadn't asked for and again the blurred feeling of panic started to rise in his chest. But not now. He was not at this point now. All he had to do was buy himself enough time to either make a way out up himself or, which was what he really hoped for and believed in, for Butler to locate him. Linus Fitch might have a name like a thunderclap but compared to both the names Fowl and Butler it did rather seem like a surpressed cough in some silent praying congregation.

"I see that I'm currently not in the position to negotiate," Artemis said. He finally had a plan. That felt good. Even better since the headache had stopped. If it wasn't for the blood still exiting through his nose, he would have felt kind of fine. Time to get his plan into action. Hopefully, Fitch was not too suspicious but sometimes, as annoying it might be most of his life, being seen as the small boy brought advantages.

"So ...?" Linus asked slowly. His hand twitched.

Artemis didn't react to that movement. Finally, he had recovered his full strength of his Fowl-identity.

"So, I believe that we will find a way to contract."