Prologue
Artemis Fowl II has puzzled psychiatrists and criminologist everywhere for decades, his various schemes as a mere child made him well known throughout the criminal world, but shortly after the rescue of his father Artemis Fowl I from the Russian Mafia, the younger Fowl gave up all criminal activities, seemingly for good, and joined, of all things, the military, as an intelligence officer.
There are many theories as to why Artemis changed his ways, many pinpoint it to the return of his father, who was determined that his family was going to live legally and become honor driven people. Artemis Fowl Senior even changed the family motto from Aurum Est Potestas, Gold is Power, to Honor est praemium virtutis, Honor is the reward of virtue.
Though, fortune has not always favored Artemis, and that you will learn throughout this story, this is the tale of perhaps Artemis's greatest feat, or greatest defeat.
CHAPTER ONE
Darkness.
His only escape from the prison he called home.
The deserted beach stretched out before him like a vast, uncharted universe. It moved like a shadowy serpent, ever undulating. Waves crashed, slid away, leaving a glittering residue on the sand that captured the sparse light of the cloud-veiled moon. While he stood perfectly still, the breeze whispered through the night, urging him to enjoy the freedom only the too-short hours after the gloaming and before the dawn could offer.
Artemis Fowl closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of the thick salt air. He burrowed his toes in the sand, smiled vaguely, and imagined the infinite grains hot from the scorching sun, the heat baking his bare feet. He summoned the memory of how the sunlight felt on his face, warm, like a lover's kiss. Even though Artemis had never liked the hot, burning sun, he had never had to live without it, and once something was taken from you, only then did you realize what it meant. With more slow, deep breaths, he persuaded himself to relax and he could almost feel the golden brilliance touching him, healing him as nothing else could.
He opened his eyes.
It was only a memory.
Artemis would never know that invigorating sensation again. This was as close as he would get. The moon peeked from amid the voluminous purple clouds making the sand appear whiter, the water bluer. All else was lost to him. For five endless years he had been sentenced to darkness. The cold, empty truth filled him with an all-consuming rage. Adrenaline surged through his veins, as hot as Hades must surely be and as insistent as the breaking surf that was now as much a part of him as his own heartbeat.
So he tugged on the running shoes that lay at his feet and he ran.
Along the beach then through the dense forest that forged right up to the sand like a battalion of troops ready to conquer. Dense undergrowth closed in around him, and towering trees laden with moss rendered the shadows beneath impenetrable. All traces of the moon disappeared, all that remained was the silent foreboding. But that didn't stop Artemis. His vision had long ago adjusted to this nocturnal existence, as his hearing had grown keener with the silence of his self-imposed exile from the human race.
He was alone, living in the darkness like a vampire but with no bloodlust to compel him to strive for survival.
He simply existed.
Artemis ran through the night until he reached a place that no one else on St. Gabriel Island dared to visit. even in the bright, unforgiving light of day.
The concerto of cicadas was very nearly deafening. He drew the thick, balmy air into his lungs, exhaled again and again until his respiration had slowed and his skin had ceased to tingle. A slick coat of sweat had dampened his flesh and he felt cleansed by it.
He moved closer to the looming structure that had once reigned proudly in the center of a clearing. That clearing had decades ago been reclaimed by the semi-tropical forest. Ivy shrouded the ancient chapel's exterior, hiding the timeworn cracks in its sagging walls, disguising its proximity to inevitable collapse. Inside was cavernous and as dark as a tomb, which was fitting since the rumors on the island had pegged him as the waking dead, a distant cousin of Count Dracula no doubt.
Some species of the local fauna scurried out through the wide door, open and partially unhinged on one side. Probably a raccoon, Artemis decided, unafraid. He waded through the knee-deep weeds that grew in the loamy soil as he moved past the chapel and to the cemetery beyond it. He had no fear of anything reptilian or otherwise, he was the walking dead, after all. What did Artemis Fowl have to fear?
Only the light.
And a past that had destroyed his future, and any semblance of a normal present.
Camouflaged by the creeping flora, primitive headstones, crumbling with age marked the final resting places of a few of St. Gabriel's former residents. No one on the island ever came near the place anymore. Not since the ground had been tainted some thirty of so years ago by the burial of one of the island's premier voodoo queens, or so went the gossip. Artemis wondered if the woman had felt as alone in her beliefs as he did in his inescapable isolation.
But he was alone, not lonely, he reminded himself. He didn't need anyone. And there was his work. his private expression of aloneness.
Minutes turned to hours as he wandered with no particular destination. He didn't often leave the house for this long, or travel this far from its sanctuary. A simple mistake such as falling and injuring himself could mean certain death if he were unable to return before dawn. But he'd needed to escape the demons from his past and this was the only way he'd known how.
They were coming. for him.
All he could do was wait. It was the waiting that got to him, not the fear for his life. Just the waiting.
Acutely attuned to nature's predawn signals, he eventually moved back toward safety. He slowed as he neared the house. Inside lay reality. Out here, he glanced toward the east and the pink and purple hues already creeping above the horizon, was freedom, hope, possibility.
But his time was up. Going back inside wasn't a mere alternative, it was a necessity. If he remained outdoors and the sun came up, which it would inevitably do. he would die.
As he trudged through the sand, he studied the details of the prison he'd chosen. The three-story Victorian Gothic-style house had a long ways to go before she would be fully restored to her former glory, but she was impressive still, at once brooding and enchanting if one was predisposed to romance.
Hurricane shutters, now closed at all times, masked the floor to ceiling windows. More than a century after the house's construction, that detail had become an important one for the new owner. Interior shutters and heavy drapes rendered the numerous massive windows - eyes to the outer world - completely sightless. No one saw in, no one saw out and not even so much as a glimmer of light penetrated his large, above ground dungeon.
When he reached the screened porch that had been added sometime in the last half of the twentieth century, Artemis turned around and looked out over the ocean one last time. That had actually been the deciding factor in his choosing this place. The sound of the surf, the immensity of its boundaries were breathtaking even without the aid of the sun.
It was all that kept him sane.
"Artemis, you've been gone for hours." The gently scolding voice greeted him the moment he opened the door into the kitchen.
Tamping down the instant irritation, Artemis manufactured a smile for his relentless companion, wishing Butler were here instead of this monstrosity. Lowell Kline. Companion, what and odd designation for his mind to conjure, Artemis considered abruptly. But it was true. Lowell was paid well to live here, had been for a year now. Did the shopping, the cooking, the laundry, even the cleaning. He fussed over Artemis like a grandmother every chance he got. Most of the time Artemis avoided him, but sometimes, as now, Lowell would catch Noah off guard and that annoyed him immensely. Lowell wanted to be a true companion in that he wanted to be Artemis's friend. But Artemis didn't want that. He didn't want anyone to be too close.
"I'm fine, Lowell." He regarded his dedicated employee, wondering again what made him stay. It definitely wasn't the pleasure of his company. Lowell Kline was certainly capable of earning a good wage elsewhere. His still-full head of hair was as white as the clouds Artemis remembered from a clear summer's day. Though not a large fellow, at fifty-five Lowell was quite fit. The older man was well-read and deemed himself the resident expert on the island folklore, including the still-secretly-practiced black voodoo and the long-ago days when pirates and smugglers had frequented the place.
"Have you been up all this time?" Artemis inquired.
Lowell looked flustered. He tried very hard not to let Artemis catch him keeping too close tabs. "Well no, but when I awoke and realized you weren't back I began to worry."
Artemis nodded, suddenly too tired to discuss the issue. This was his life - existence, he amended. "I apologize if I worried you. Your concern is unnecessary, I assure you. I'm heading for the shower."
"Artemis," Lowell said, stalling his departure. "You've received another. letter."
The last word hung in the air like the steamy July humidity outside, only heavy with an undercurrent of apprehension. of menace.
"Let me see." It was only then that Artemis noticed Lowell held a bundle of mail under one arm, his reading glasses dangling from his hand. He'd obviously been going through the stack Artemis had ignored for the past four days. Artemis preferred to do it himself, but whenever he got behind, by choice generally, Lowell took the initiative.
Artemis looked at the envelope. As before it was non-descript, white in color, business-size with no return address. He reached inside and pulled out the single sheet of paper. It was just like all the others. Letters of the alphabet in different fonts and sizes had been cut from magazines of newspapers and arranged into haphazard words then pasted onto the plain white page.
There's no place to hide.
Artemis sighed, crumpled the letter and tossed it across the room. Anger seethed inside him. The letters had been coming once a week for more than two months. The first few had been nothing more than hate mail. They hadn't really bothered him since he'd been called worse by the locals on occasion. But the last three or four had grown threatening. Last week's I'm coming for you had sent Lowell over the edge. He'd insisted on informing Colm O'Connor, the only man involved with the government whom Artemis even remotely associated with.
O'Connor had overreacted as usual.
"There was a call also," Lowell said hesitantly, obviously weighing the merits of saying more but duty bound to do so.
Artemis paused again, his fierce glare cut to Lowell, he flinched. "What call?"
"Mr. O'Connor wanted you to know that he's sending someone down to." Lowell cleared his throat. "To serve as a sort of bodyguard."
Artemis swore under his breath, he didn't want games. If his enemy wanted revenge, why didn't he take it? Besides, he could take care of himself, Butler had made sure of that, and after his retirement, Artemis had never taken on another guard. Either way, Artemis wasn't running.
"Call O'Connor back and tell him to forget it. I don't want anyone coming here. I will not allow it."
"But what if -"
Artemis pinned him with a look that he felt certain conveyed the finality of his words. "I you would feel more comfortable taking a leave until this is over, I fully understand. But I do not want a damned bodyguard. Under any circumstances."
* * * Red Flannery surged forward, gaining her second wind as she sprinted into the home stretch of her three-mile run. Her heard pumped hard and steady, forcing the adrenaline-charged blood through her veins and melting the last of the tension from her body.
She'd awakened this morning with a scream trapped in her throat and sweat dampening her skin, nightmares left over from Port Charlotte. The mission had gone smoothly right up until the end. But she'd survived, Bernard Ferrelli and Kathleen Moore had survived too. The bad guys had been defeated and all was right in the world once more.
Just twenty-four hours had passed and the incident that had shaken her to the core was still fresh in her memory. But it would pass. She knew from experience that it would. Focusing on more pleasant thoughts, she remembered that Leo Camp had mentioned that he had scheduled a mission where she would be the primary. He'd also warned that there was short fuse on this one, she should be ready ASAP.
She was ready.
As soon as she had shaken off the lingering effect of the nightmare, she'd started packing in preparation. She didn't have to know where she was going of for how long, she was trained on the proper preparations for a mission. Her selections would cover most any situation or climate.
The she'd pushed, stretching to her physical limits all morning in an effort to dispel the remnants of the nightmares. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was almost noon and she was starved.
If she hurried she could make it to Terry's Pizza in time for lunch with the usual crew. Red bounded away from the track, slowing her pace as she approached the gym. The state-of-the-art training facility made the FBI's Farm look like an elementary-school playground. Red smiled at that thought. She considered a career at the Bureau after graduation University, but she'd decided Secret Service instead. Having hailed from a family of cops, third generation at that, she had definitely wanted to go into law enforcement. But being the only girl in her close-knit family of six siblings, Red had learned hard and fast that if she didn't keep one step ahead of the boys, she'd always been two steps behind. So she'd opted for federal service rather than local law enforcement.
No one in her family could believe it when she had left the Secret Service for her current duty. Forward Research, the people whose sole responsibility was to scout out talent for the Mission Recovery, had noticed her Secret Service exploits and the moment the president she worked for left office, they'd lured her away from dark suits and designer sunglasses.
Mission Recovery's whole cloak-and-dagger routine had seduced her. Now her brother's, all local cops in various parts of Ireland were permanently one- upped. Little sister was a secret agent working in L.A. She always laughed and told them it was nothing nearly so James Bondish as all that. But the truth was, they were closer to the mark than they knew.
Mission Recovery had been created to serve the needs of all other government agencies, CIA, FBI, ATF, DEA. Whenever the usual channels failed, Mission Recovery was calling in to 'recover' the situation. This elite group were highly trained in all areas of anti-terrorism, aggressive infiltration and such. Of course, she couldn't share any of that with her brothers.
But that was okay with Red. She didn't do any of it for the notoriety, she did it because she loved her job. Most of the time anyway.
She slowed to a walk as she entered the gym and made the journey to the women's locker rooms. The place was deserted. There weren't that many females in Mission Recovery, but their facilities were every bit as elaborate as their male counterparts'.
Peeling off her T-shirt, she toed off her sneakers, the reached for the door to her locker. Her mobile phone rang. She flipped down the mouthpiece and said a breathless, "Flannery."
"Red, this is Joanne at the gallery."
Red's heart did a somersault. "Hey, Joan." She tried to stay calm and not jump the gun here, but adrenaline was already soaring though her.
"I've located another painting by that obscure artist."
"So I can purchase the one I've been admiring?" she asked quickly. She had do know! She'd mooned - obsessed really - over that painting for months now. She'd even dreamed of the enigmatic artist behind the work. Too bad no one, not even the gallery owner, knew his name. The work was simply signed A.F.F All transactions were conduction through his agent. A.F.F. was a complete mystery. One Red would like nothing better than to solve. Since his work was so hard to come by, the gallery owner was reluctant to let it go.
Joanne laughed softly. "Drop by at you convenience. I'll be holding it for you."
Red tossed the phone back into the locked and did a little victory dance. The painting was hers. Though of the dark, sensual images of the almost Gothic-looking forest scene made her shiver. And now it was hers!
She snapped her towel. Maybe she'd have time to pick it up today. Clad in only her sports bra and running shorts, she closed her locker and turned her head towards the showers.
She inhaled sharply a the sight of Leo Camp sitting on a bench at the end of the row of lockers, a briefcase at his feet.
"Afternoon Flannery." He propped his hands on his cane and eyed her unapologetically. "I hope this isn't a bad time."
"No, sir." Growing up with five brothers made a girl pretty damn unflappable. She threw the towel over he shoulder and moved to the bench. "Your timing is perfect. I've been think about you and tat assignment you mentioned." She sat down next to him.
Though the last place she'd expected to receive a mission briefing was in the women's locker room at the training facility, she'd waiting a long time to be the primary on an assignment. She'd take it any way it came. No matter that her record with the Secret Service was impeccable, all Mission Recovery agents started out on the same level and had to earn their way. Impressing the likes of Leo Camp and Thomas Kerry was no easy feat.
Leo reached into his briefcase and brought out a large unmarked manila envelope. "Here's the profile on you principal, Artemis Fowl. You'll serve as his personal body guard until further notice."
Red nodded. "I look forward to the opportunity."
Those wise gray eyes studied her for a moment before he continued. "Mr. Fowl has special circumstances." Leo nodded toward the envelope. "The necessary details are there. To cut to the chase, before forced retirement as a major in military intelligence he was instrumental in numerous high- level missions. It would be pointless to less you the branch he served since our government continues to deny its existence, it suffices to say that its chief focus is research and development and Major Fowl was one of their best kept secrets."
Red listened intently, her heart surging into a brisk pace once more. This sounded like a choice assignment.
"Five years ago Fowl volunteered to test their newest prototype." Leo drew a breath, then let it go as if taking time to consider his next words more carefully. "The new technology appeared successful and was used in an operation that brought down a ring of traitors within our own government."
"Unfortunately two things went wrongs," Leo resumed after a moment's pause. "There was a serious discrepancy in a piece of crucial evidence and the ring leader General Richard Bonner, got off with a mere slap on the hand, four years in a minimum-security institution. Club Med, if you get my drift.
A frown worried Red's brow as she waited for the rest. When his pause lengthened, she prompted, "You said two things went wrong."
Leo nodded, his expression solemn. "The experimental technology had an adverse effect on Artemis Fowl's health. He had to give up his career and live like a prisoner in his own home. And that's where he remains to this day."
"So Bonner has been released and he represents a threat to Fowl?"
"We believe that to be the case. Bonner swore he would have his vengeance on Fowl. And since this release six months ago, intel suggests that he has not only behaved suspiciously, but that he has been consorting with known assassins. Then two months ago, Fowl started receiving threatening letters."
Red unconsciously dragged loose the holder from her ponytail in preparation for that badly needed shower, but her thoughts were on Fowl. "Where is Fowl now?"
"Are you familiar with St. Gabriel Island?"
She shook her head.
"It's just off the coast of Georgia," he explained. "Near Savannah. That's where you'll fly into. We've chartered a boat to take you to the island. Once there, transportation with be provided."
Picturing a tropical island, Red said. "Sounds like a vacation spot."
"It's a lovely place, that's true enough." Leo told her as if he had firsthand knowledge. "But it's small and the locals don't care much for outsiders. They'll shun you, probably make you feel completely unwanted. Since you won't be there to make friends, that won't really matter. Just don't expect to be embraced as if you were on a more touristy island."
"When do I leave?" Adrenaline spiked. She was ready for this.
"Your flight to Atlanta and then on to Savannah leave National tomorrow morning. Can you handle that?"
Red smiled. "I started packing this morning in anticipation of your call." That still gave her time to pick up the painting.
Though Leo didn't smile, she didn't miss the sparkle of amusement and approval in his eyes. "Very good, Flannery. The other accessories you'll need will be waiting on St. Gabriel."
Red knew what he meant by 'other accessories'. When flying commercial it was always best to have the weapons one needed waiting on the other end. It cut down on hassle and supported anonymity.
"Who's got my back?" she asked, wondering if it would be someone she had supported before.
Leo didn't answer for a moment, just considered her as if trying to decide if she was ready to hear what he had to say. "That's why I came down here instead of calling you into the office."
She'd wondered about that, but was so glad to get the assignment she didn't question the irregularity.
"Colm O'Connor," Leo continued, "is a personal friend of Director Kerry's. O'Connor feels responsible for what happened to Fowl since he was the one who created the technology used. O'Connor wants the best. So, I'm sending you. I'll have your back on this one."
Red's eyes rounded in disbelief. "You'll be on St. Gabriel?" She'd heard the words clearly enough, it just didn't seem plausible that she'd heard correctly.
"Don't worry, Flannery." Leo did smile this time. "I might spend most of my time behind a desk, but I know what I'm doing."
She forced her head into an agreeable up-and-down motion. She didn't doubt his qualifications of his ability, The idea was just a little unnerving. "Yes, sir."
Leo pushed to his feet and reached for his briefcase. "Well, I'll leave you to carry on, my flight is this afternoon."
Flannery followed him to the door. "Thanks, Mr. Camp."
Leo patted her on the arm the same way her father had done a thousand times. "Don't worry, Flannery, I don't bite, and, to the best of my knowledge, neither does Fowl. Don't be afraid to act as you would under any other circumstances. I won't be there to rate your performance, I'll be there as the director's personal representative."
Flannery didn't move for a long time after the door closed behind Leo Camp. Sure it made her a tad uneasy to know that the boss was going to be watching her every step. But as far as being afraid went, she definitely wasn't.
Red Flannery wasn't afraid of anything.
A telling stillness creepy though her.
Okay. There was that one itsy-bitsy matter but it didn't really count. And no one except Ferrelli knew about it.
Her entire life she had been utterly terrified of one thing and one thing only - the dark.
Artemis Fowl II has puzzled psychiatrists and criminologist everywhere for decades, his various schemes as a mere child made him well known throughout the criminal world, but shortly after the rescue of his father Artemis Fowl I from the Russian Mafia, the younger Fowl gave up all criminal activities, seemingly for good, and joined, of all things, the military, as an intelligence officer.
There are many theories as to why Artemis changed his ways, many pinpoint it to the return of his father, who was determined that his family was going to live legally and become honor driven people. Artemis Fowl Senior even changed the family motto from Aurum Est Potestas, Gold is Power, to Honor est praemium virtutis, Honor is the reward of virtue.
Though, fortune has not always favored Artemis, and that you will learn throughout this story, this is the tale of perhaps Artemis's greatest feat, or greatest defeat.
CHAPTER ONE
Darkness.
His only escape from the prison he called home.
The deserted beach stretched out before him like a vast, uncharted universe. It moved like a shadowy serpent, ever undulating. Waves crashed, slid away, leaving a glittering residue on the sand that captured the sparse light of the cloud-veiled moon. While he stood perfectly still, the breeze whispered through the night, urging him to enjoy the freedom only the too-short hours after the gloaming and before the dawn could offer.
Artemis Fowl closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of the thick salt air. He burrowed his toes in the sand, smiled vaguely, and imagined the infinite grains hot from the scorching sun, the heat baking his bare feet. He summoned the memory of how the sunlight felt on his face, warm, like a lover's kiss. Even though Artemis had never liked the hot, burning sun, he had never had to live without it, and once something was taken from you, only then did you realize what it meant. With more slow, deep breaths, he persuaded himself to relax and he could almost feel the golden brilliance touching him, healing him as nothing else could.
He opened his eyes.
It was only a memory.
Artemis would never know that invigorating sensation again. This was as close as he would get. The moon peeked from amid the voluminous purple clouds making the sand appear whiter, the water bluer. All else was lost to him. For five endless years he had been sentenced to darkness. The cold, empty truth filled him with an all-consuming rage. Adrenaline surged through his veins, as hot as Hades must surely be and as insistent as the breaking surf that was now as much a part of him as his own heartbeat.
So he tugged on the running shoes that lay at his feet and he ran.
Along the beach then through the dense forest that forged right up to the sand like a battalion of troops ready to conquer. Dense undergrowth closed in around him, and towering trees laden with moss rendered the shadows beneath impenetrable. All traces of the moon disappeared, all that remained was the silent foreboding. But that didn't stop Artemis. His vision had long ago adjusted to this nocturnal existence, as his hearing had grown keener with the silence of his self-imposed exile from the human race.
He was alone, living in the darkness like a vampire but with no bloodlust to compel him to strive for survival.
He simply existed.
Artemis ran through the night until he reached a place that no one else on St. Gabriel Island dared to visit. even in the bright, unforgiving light of day.
The concerto of cicadas was very nearly deafening. He drew the thick, balmy air into his lungs, exhaled again and again until his respiration had slowed and his skin had ceased to tingle. A slick coat of sweat had dampened his flesh and he felt cleansed by it.
He moved closer to the looming structure that had once reigned proudly in the center of a clearing. That clearing had decades ago been reclaimed by the semi-tropical forest. Ivy shrouded the ancient chapel's exterior, hiding the timeworn cracks in its sagging walls, disguising its proximity to inevitable collapse. Inside was cavernous and as dark as a tomb, which was fitting since the rumors on the island had pegged him as the waking dead, a distant cousin of Count Dracula no doubt.
Some species of the local fauna scurried out through the wide door, open and partially unhinged on one side. Probably a raccoon, Artemis decided, unafraid. He waded through the knee-deep weeds that grew in the loamy soil as he moved past the chapel and to the cemetery beyond it. He had no fear of anything reptilian or otherwise, he was the walking dead, after all. What did Artemis Fowl have to fear?
Only the light.
And a past that had destroyed his future, and any semblance of a normal present.
Camouflaged by the creeping flora, primitive headstones, crumbling with age marked the final resting places of a few of St. Gabriel's former residents. No one on the island ever came near the place anymore. Not since the ground had been tainted some thirty of so years ago by the burial of one of the island's premier voodoo queens, or so went the gossip. Artemis wondered if the woman had felt as alone in her beliefs as he did in his inescapable isolation.
But he was alone, not lonely, he reminded himself. He didn't need anyone. And there was his work. his private expression of aloneness.
Minutes turned to hours as he wandered with no particular destination. He didn't often leave the house for this long, or travel this far from its sanctuary. A simple mistake such as falling and injuring himself could mean certain death if he were unable to return before dawn. But he'd needed to escape the demons from his past and this was the only way he'd known how.
They were coming. for him.
All he could do was wait. It was the waiting that got to him, not the fear for his life. Just the waiting.
Acutely attuned to nature's predawn signals, he eventually moved back toward safety. He slowed as he neared the house. Inside lay reality. Out here, he glanced toward the east and the pink and purple hues already creeping above the horizon, was freedom, hope, possibility.
But his time was up. Going back inside wasn't a mere alternative, it was a necessity. If he remained outdoors and the sun came up, which it would inevitably do. he would die.
As he trudged through the sand, he studied the details of the prison he'd chosen. The three-story Victorian Gothic-style house had a long ways to go before she would be fully restored to her former glory, but she was impressive still, at once brooding and enchanting if one was predisposed to romance.
Hurricane shutters, now closed at all times, masked the floor to ceiling windows. More than a century after the house's construction, that detail had become an important one for the new owner. Interior shutters and heavy drapes rendered the numerous massive windows - eyes to the outer world - completely sightless. No one saw in, no one saw out and not even so much as a glimmer of light penetrated his large, above ground dungeon.
When he reached the screened porch that had been added sometime in the last half of the twentieth century, Artemis turned around and looked out over the ocean one last time. That had actually been the deciding factor in his choosing this place. The sound of the surf, the immensity of its boundaries were breathtaking even without the aid of the sun.
It was all that kept him sane.
"Artemis, you've been gone for hours." The gently scolding voice greeted him the moment he opened the door into the kitchen.
Tamping down the instant irritation, Artemis manufactured a smile for his relentless companion, wishing Butler were here instead of this monstrosity. Lowell Kline. Companion, what and odd designation for his mind to conjure, Artemis considered abruptly. But it was true. Lowell was paid well to live here, had been for a year now. Did the shopping, the cooking, the laundry, even the cleaning. He fussed over Artemis like a grandmother every chance he got. Most of the time Artemis avoided him, but sometimes, as now, Lowell would catch Noah off guard and that annoyed him immensely. Lowell wanted to be a true companion in that he wanted to be Artemis's friend. But Artemis didn't want that. He didn't want anyone to be too close.
"I'm fine, Lowell." He regarded his dedicated employee, wondering again what made him stay. It definitely wasn't the pleasure of his company. Lowell Kline was certainly capable of earning a good wage elsewhere. His still-full head of hair was as white as the clouds Artemis remembered from a clear summer's day. Though not a large fellow, at fifty-five Lowell was quite fit. The older man was well-read and deemed himself the resident expert on the island folklore, including the still-secretly-practiced black voodoo and the long-ago days when pirates and smugglers had frequented the place.
"Have you been up all this time?" Artemis inquired.
Lowell looked flustered. He tried very hard not to let Artemis catch him keeping too close tabs. "Well no, but when I awoke and realized you weren't back I began to worry."
Artemis nodded, suddenly too tired to discuss the issue. This was his life - existence, he amended. "I apologize if I worried you. Your concern is unnecessary, I assure you. I'm heading for the shower."
"Artemis," Lowell said, stalling his departure. "You've received another. letter."
The last word hung in the air like the steamy July humidity outside, only heavy with an undercurrent of apprehension. of menace.
"Let me see." It was only then that Artemis noticed Lowell held a bundle of mail under one arm, his reading glasses dangling from his hand. He'd obviously been going through the stack Artemis had ignored for the past four days. Artemis preferred to do it himself, but whenever he got behind, by choice generally, Lowell took the initiative.
Artemis looked at the envelope. As before it was non-descript, white in color, business-size with no return address. He reached inside and pulled out the single sheet of paper. It was just like all the others. Letters of the alphabet in different fonts and sizes had been cut from magazines of newspapers and arranged into haphazard words then pasted onto the plain white page.
There's no place to hide.
Artemis sighed, crumpled the letter and tossed it across the room. Anger seethed inside him. The letters had been coming once a week for more than two months. The first few had been nothing more than hate mail. They hadn't really bothered him since he'd been called worse by the locals on occasion. But the last three or four had grown threatening. Last week's I'm coming for you had sent Lowell over the edge. He'd insisted on informing Colm O'Connor, the only man involved with the government whom Artemis even remotely associated with.
O'Connor had overreacted as usual.
"There was a call also," Lowell said hesitantly, obviously weighing the merits of saying more but duty bound to do so.
Artemis paused again, his fierce glare cut to Lowell, he flinched. "What call?"
"Mr. O'Connor wanted you to know that he's sending someone down to." Lowell cleared his throat. "To serve as a sort of bodyguard."
Artemis swore under his breath, he didn't want games. If his enemy wanted revenge, why didn't he take it? Besides, he could take care of himself, Butler had made sure of that, and after his retirement, Artemis had never taken on another guard. Either way, Artemis wasn't running.
"Call O'Connor back and tell him to forget it. I don't want anyone coming here. I will not allow it."
"But what if -"
Artemis pinned him with a look that he felt certain conveyed the finality of his words. "I you would feel more comfortable taking a leave until this is over, I fully understand. But I do not want a damned bodyguard. Under any circumstances."
* * * Red Flannery surged forward, gaining her second wind as she sprinted into the home stretch of her three-mile run. Her heard pumped hard and steady, forcing the adrenaline-charged blood through her veins and melting the last of the tension from her body.
She'd awakened this morning with a scream trapped in her throat and sweat dampening her skin, nightmares left over from Port Charlotte. The mission had gone smoothly right up until the end. But she'd survived, Bernard Ferrelli and Kathleen Moore had survived too. The bad guys had been defeated and all was right in the world once more.
Just twenty-four hours had passed and the incident that had shaken her to the core was still fresh in her memory. But it would pass. She knew from experience that it would. Focusing on more pleasant thoughts, she remembered that Leo Camp had mentioned that he had scheduled a mission where she would be the primary. He'd also warned that there was short fuse on this one, she should be ready ASAP.
She was ready.
As soon as she had shaken off the lingering effect of the nightmare, she'd started packing in preparation. She didn't have to know where she was going of for how long, she was trained on the proper preparations for a mission. Her selections would cover most any situation or climate.
The she'd pushed, stretching to her physical limits all morning in an effort to dispel the remnants of the nightmares. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was almost noon and she was starved.
If she hurried she could make it to Terry's Pizza in time for lunch with the usual crew. Red bounded away from the track, slowing her pace as she approached the gym. The state-of-the-art training facility made the FBI's Farm look like an elementary-school playground. Red smiled at that thought. She considered a career at the Bureau after graduation University, but she'd decided Secret Service instead. Having hailed from a family of cops, third generation at that, she had definitely wanted to go into law enforcement. But being the only girl in her close-knit family of six siblings, Red had learned hard and fast that if she didn't keep one step ahead of the boys, she'd always been two steps behind. So she'd opted for federal service rather than local law enforcement.
No one in her family could believe it when she had left the Secret Service for her current duty. Forward Research, the people whose sole responsibility was to scout out talent for the Mission Recovery, had noticed her Secret Service exploits and the moment the president she worked for left office, they'd lured her away from dark suits and designer sunglasses.
Mission Recovery's whole cloak-and-dagger routine had seduced her. Now her brother's, all local cops in various parts of Ireland were permanently one- upped. Little sister was a secret agent working in L.A. She always laughed and told them it was nothing nearly so James Bondish as all that. But the truth was, they were closer to the mark than they knew.
Mission Recovery had been created to serve the needs of all other government agencies, CIA, FBI, ATF, DEA. Whenever the usual channels failed, Mission Recovery was calling in to 'recover' the situation. This elite group were highly trained in all areas of anti-terrorism, aggressive infiltration and such. Of course, she couldn't share any of that with her brothers.
But that was okay with Red. She didn't do any of it for the notoriety, she did it because she loved her job. Most of the time anyway.
She slowed to a walk as she entered the gym and made the journey to the women's locker rooms. The place was deserted. There weren't that many females in Mission Recovery, but their facilities were every bit as elaborate as their male counterparts'.
Peeling off her T-shirt, she toed off her sneakers, the reached for the door to her locker. Her mobile phone rang. She flipped down the mouthpiece and said a breathless, "Flannery."
"Red, this is Joanne at the gallery."
Red's heart did a somersault. "Hey, Joan." She tried to stay calm and not jump the gun here, but adrenaline was already soaring though her.
"I've located another painting by that obscure artist."
"So I can purchase the one I've been admiring?" she asked quickly. She had do know! She'd mooned - obsessed really - over that painting for months now. She'd even dreamed of the enigmatic artist behind the work. Too bad no one, not even the gallery owner, knew his name. The work was simply signed A.F.F All transactions were conduction through his agent. A.F.F. was a complete mystery. One Red would like nothing better than to solve. Since his work was so hard to come by, the gallery owner was reluctant to let it go.
Joanne laughed softly. "Drop by at you convenience. I'll be holding it for you."
Red tossed the phone back into the locked and did a little victory dance. The painting was hers. Though of the dark, sensual images of the almost Gothic-looking forest scene made her shiver. And now it was hers!
She snapped her towel. Maybe she'd have time to pick it up today. Clad in only her sports bra and running shorts, she closed her locker and turned her head towards the showers.
She inhaled sharply a the sight of Leo Camp sitting on a bench at the end of the row of lockers, a briefcase at his feet.
"Afternoon Flannery." He propped his hands on his cane and eyed her unapologetically. "I hope this isn't a bad time."
"No, sir." Growing up with five brothers made a girl pretty damn unflappable. She threw the towel over he shoulder and moved to the bench. "Your timing is perfect. I've been think about you and tat assignment you mentioned." She sat down next to him.
Though the last place she'd expected to receive a mission briefing was in the women's locker room at the training facility, she'd waiting a long time to be the primary on an assignment. She'd take it any way it came. No matter that her record with the Secret Service was impeccable, all Mission Recovery agents started out on the same level and had to earn their way. Impressing the likes of Leo Camp and Thomas Kerry was no easy feat.
Leo reached into his briefcase and brought out a large unmarked manila envelope. "Here's the profile on you principal, Artemis Fowl. You'll serve as his personal body guard until further notice."
Red nodded. "I look forward to the opportunity."
Those wise gray eyes studied her for a moment before he continued. "Mr. Fowl has special circumstances." Leo nodded toward the envelope. "The necessary details are there. To cut to the chase, before forced retirement as a major in military intelligence he was instrumental in numerous high- level missions. It would be pointless to less you the branch he served since our government continues to deny its existence, it suffices to say that its chief focus is research and development and Major Fowl was one of their best kept secrets."
Red listened intently, her heart surging into a brisk pace once more. This sounded like a choice assignment.
"Five years ago Fowl volunteered to test their newest prototype." Leo drew a breath, then let it go as if taking time to consider his next words more carefully. "The new technology appeared successful and was used in an operation that brought down a ring of traitors within our own government."
"Unfortunately two things went wrongs," Leo resumed after a moment's pause. "There was a serious discrepancy in a piece of crucial evidence and the ring leader General Richard Bonner, got off with a mere slap on the hand, four years in a minimum-security institution. Club Med, if you get my drift.
A frown worried Red's brow as she waited for the rest. When his pause lengthened, she prompted, "You said two things went wrong."
Leo nodded, his expression solemn. "The experimental technology had an adverse effect on Artemis Fowl's health. He had to give up his career and live like a prisoner in his own home. And that's where he remains to this day."
"So Bonner has been released and he represents a threat to Fowl?"
"We believe that to be the case. Bonner swore he would have his vengeance on Fowl. And since this release six months ago, intel suggests that he has not only behaved suspiciously, but that he has been consorting with known assassins. Then two months ago, Fowl started receiving threatening letters."
Red unconsciously dragged loose the holder from her ponytail in preparation for that badly needed shower, but her thoughts were on Fowl. "Where is Fowl now?"
"Are you familiar with St. Gabriel Island?"
She shook her head.
"It's just off the coast of Georgia," he explained. "Near Savannah. That's where you'll fly into. We've chartered a boat to take you to the island. Once there, transportation with be provided."
Picturing a tropical island, Red said. "Sounds like a vacation spot."
"It's a lovely place, that's true enough." Leo told her as if he had firsthand knowledge. "But it's small and the locals don't care much for outsiders. They'll shun you, probably make you feel completely unwanted. Since you won't be there to make friends, that won't really matter. Just don't expect to be embraced as if you were on a more touristy island."
"When do I leave?" Adrenaline spiked. She was ready for this.
"Your flight to Atlanta and then on to Savannah leave National tomorrow morning. Can you handle that?"
Red smiled. "I started packing this morning in anticipation of your call." That still gave her time to pick up the painting.
Though Leo didn't smile, she didn't miss the sparkle of amusement and approval in his eyes. "Very good, Flannery. The other accessories you'll need will be waiting on St. Gabriel."
Red knew what he meant by 'other accessories'. When flying commercial it was always best to have the weapons one needed waiting on the other end. It cut down on hassle and supported anonymity.
"Who's got my back?" she asked, wondering if it would be someone she had supported before.
Leo didn't answer for a moment, just considered her as if trying to decide if she was ready to hear what he had to say. "That's why I came down here instead of calling you into the office."
She'd wondered about that, but was so glad to get the assignment she didn't question the irregularity.
"Colm O'Connor," Leo continued, "is a personal friend of Director Kerry's. O'Connor feels responsible for what happened to Fowl since he was the one who created the technology used. O'Connor wants the best. So, I'm sending you. I'll have your back on this one."
Red's eyes rounded in disbelief. "You'll be on St. Gabriel?" She'd heard the words clearly enough, it just didn't seem plausible that she'd heard correctly.
"Don't worry, Flannery." Leo did smile this time. "I might spend most of my time behind a desk, but I know what I'm doing."
She forced her head into an agreeable up-and-down motion. She didn't doubt his qualifications of his ability, The idea was just a little unnerving. "Yes, sir."
Leo pushed to his feet and reached for his briefcase. "Well, I'll leave you to carry on, my flight is this afternoon."
Flannery followed him to the door. "Thanks, Mr. Camp."
Leo patted her on the arm the same way her father had done a thousand times. "Don't worry, Flannery, I don't bite, and, to the best of my knowledge, neither does Fowl. Don't be afraid to act as you would under any other circumstances. I won't be there to rate your performance, I'll be there as the director's personal representative."
Flannery didn't move for a long time after the door closed behind Leo Camp. Sure it made her a tad uneasy to know that the boss was going to be watching her every step. But as far as being afraid went, she definitely wasn't.
Red Flannery wasn't afraid of anything.
A telling stillness creepy though her.
Okay. There was that one itsy-bitsy matter but it didn't really count. And no one except Ferrelli knew about it.
Her entire life she had been utterly terrified of one thing and one thing only - the dark.