The coffee was utterly disgusting, but it was all there was to drink the following morning other than tap water. Artemis would never drink tap water. Never. He, much to her protesting, used the last bottle of water to make the coffee.
"Our flight is in a few hours. We leave from the other side of Ireland, it's…ye gods, I suck with this Gaelic stuff, but its near Cork.
Artemis sucked in a long breath. They'd barely make it from Malin to the airport. It was time to call in some help.
He flipped open his own cell phone. "Whom are you calling?"
He smiled. "The best driver in Ireland."
"What the hell are you doing in Malin, Artemis?"
He'd never heard him curse before. He'd never heard himself curse before until the other day. He'd be talking like a truck driver if things kept going the way they were.
"Butler, I will explain everything when you get here, but I must insist you do not tell my parents. Tell them you're going to visit me."
There was a sigh, and it was wheezy. Suddenly Artemis could hear how old he was.
"Alright, but you had better explain everything when I get there."
"I will, old friend."
"Would you please stop ogling at me? He's safer than taking the train. Or the ferry, or anything for that matter. Your uncle's an idiot and that man will have his associates checking every sensible way out of this place. They'll be looking for one or two people, but never three. Trust me. The man has been my constant companion since I was born. I trust him with my very life."
Barbara sighed, and threw a hand through her hair. "Fine. Not like I can do anything about it, now."
"You'd better start talking soon, because I can and will take you with me."
"Butler, if you could just wait until we reach the room."
They made their way down the hall and Artemis could already see his hand was flexing, itching to be wrapped around the butt of a gun. Artemis chuckled, patting his arm.
"There isn't anything to worry about. This place is much safer than where I just checked out of, I assure you."
It barely took a second for Butler to have the gun pointed at Barbara's forehead. She raised an eyebrow at Artemis.
"He's slightly overprotective."
"I gathered."
Butler never took his eyes off of Barbara. "Who is she and what is she doing in this room?"
"Butler, this is Barbara Damphirski."
"Whatever you got yourself into, I'm sure I can get you out of it."
Artemis shook his head. "Put your gun down, Butler. I'm very sure things are quite different than whatever you're imagining them to be. Barbara and I are working for MI5, undercover."
"My uncle isn't the brightest crayon in the box; we were shot at this morning, and now we need a way to get out of here and to Cork Airport as soon as possible. I apologize for this lack of notice."
He nodded, then turned to Artemis.
"Butler, please. It's either this or a boat, and I really don't care for them."
Butler finally lowered the gun. "So what exactly does that entail?"
Artemis shrugged. "Bof. Drive us to the Cork within a few hours; it's not too much to ask, is it?"
"How quickly?"
Artemis smiled. "At speeds that only you can reach."
Butler sighed. "Fine. Alright…now you having me lie to your parents."
Butler grabbed his arm as he got out of the car, fixing him with a glare. "If anything happens," he held up his phone. "You're a genius, so use that brain up there. I don't want to have to explain why you aren't coming home."
Artemis laughed. "I assure you, that will not be happening."
Barbara stuck a hand in past her partner. "Thank you, Mr. Butler."
"Give my regards to your father."
"I'm afraid I can't do that. Next time you're in Helsinki, you can tell him yourself."
He nodded, and they turned. Butler's instincts screamed at him to follow them, but he was sure it was probably just separation anxiety.
"You, Uncle, are a complete idiot." Artemis punctuated his point by slamming his Glock onto the table, making sure it left a dent. "It's common sense: do not anger an Irishman."
Her uncle gave them a look of attempted sympathy, but it came out looking as if he had gastric pain. Artemis threw the money on the table. It'd been delivered earlier that morning along with the milk by MI.
"We're tired. We're going home. Don't bother us for a while."
"Now, come on-"
"He got shot, you stupid fuck!" Both men turned and stared at Barbara. "Shot! Because you're a dickhead who has got common sense equivalent to a piece of cardboard!"
Domitrov gaped. Artemis took this as the opportune moment to place his arm around her shoulders and lead her out. "Excuse her, and me," inwardly, he cringed, "we just need some sleep and a drink or two, and we should be fine."
Domitrov was left to stare at the Glock on the desk.
"I'm going to go for a jog, okay?" Artemis put down his paper and started to get up. She shook her head. "No, I don't want to interrupt your reading, I'll be gone for like an hour, tops."
The door shut and there was silence. Finally. An hour of it.
He went back to reading.
It had been two hours. He was going crazy. Artemis called her phone. 'Fur Elise' started playing a few rooms over. He cursed out loud.
Grabbing his jacket, he ran out of the apartment and took the stairs as quickly as he could.
He'd never run faster.
He scanned all their usually stops. Nothing. No sign of her in the pizza parlor. He fell down onto a bench seat.
Had their Irish 'partner' gotten her? There wasn't a way to carry any sort of weapon in what she'd been wearing. It was getting colder and he knew he'd have to call MI soon to let them know she was missing.
Hands stuffed in his pockets, he started back to the apartment, going through Cimetière de Passy.
He recognized her shirt from a while off. She was the only one wearing something sleeveless at that time of night. He jogged over. "Catarina!"
Her head shot up. She turned around.
He collapsed onto the bench next to her. "You know, I really do hate all this running…You said you'd be ba-"
"Oh, God, I didn't realize what time it was!" She looked at her watch. "Artemis, I'm so sorry. Lord, I feel like an idiot."
"As you should," he huffed. "You're about a block away from Bois de Boulogne…any cheap perverted man loo-" he glanced around, and then hastily took of his jacket and threw it over her shoulders. "Come on…what are you doing in a cemetery?"
"It's quiet."
He gave a dry laugh. "I'd never have guessed."
"So how much should we put you down for?" It had been three weeks and this was their fourth partner/ client…Dimitrov couldn't decide on what to call them. His hand was hovering over his PDA. The woman in front of him tapped a finger on her jawbone.
"I'd say two million sounds nice, doesn't it?"
"Sounds nice."
Artemis slipped the PDA and the pen across the desk, and she signed it quickly, staring up and him as she did, finally, she spoke. "Tell me, why exactly are you doing this?"
"I beg your pardon?"
Miss Carteza rested her face on her palm. "By aiding your girlfriend's uncle, you're assuring the death of hundreds, perhaps thousands. That sort of thing isn't a small peccadillo, my dear. You are young, and have a long life. Why taint it so early?"
"It's a small price for the money, miss. You yourself proved you agree when you signed our little agreement."
"True," she signed. "But I am older than you. I have enemies. With the right amount of money, I'll hold off detonating the thing for a while. I suppose your right."
Artemis nodded and got up; a feeling of nausea was rising in his gut. He muttered a quick goodbye.
He dry wretched, which was a pleasant change from the vomit. His arms shook and he rested his forehead on his hand. If only his twelve year old self could see him now. He'd kick him.
Had he suddenly lost the testicular fortification that had allowed him to ruthlessly buy out whole crime families? What of all the deaths he may have caused, without thinking about it?
What if they failed, and her uncle went through with the plans?
He wretched again, squinting his eyes. The front door opening sounded five times louder than it usually did, on account of his migraine.
"Are you home?"
"Yeah," he hurriedly wiped at his mouth. He flushed quickly and started towards the sink, but she was too quick.
"It wasn't the eggs this morning was it?" she asked as she guided him to the kitchen. She put a plastic cup of something in his hand, and she told him to drink. It was flat Coke.
They sat in silence for a while. "It's been bothering me, too."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Hint, flush while you do it, less noticeable that way."
"And you do this often? Do you have anorexic tendencies I should know about?"
"No…What did you used to do for fun?"
"What?" he took a slow sip. "This is me we're talking about. You know, little old man stuck in a sixteen year old's body? I don't know what fun is."
"Hm, so nausea causes you to become blatantly sarcastic. I'm being serious."
He studied the cup. "It's not…favorable. You'll think I'm…No."
"Oh, come on." She leaned forward, now interested. "I'd dance. I mean like anywhere anytime. It can't be as bad."
"I painted, okay? Just laugh and get it over with."
"What's so funny about that?" She shrugged. "Perhaps you should take that up again. It'll get your mind off of things."
"I suppose it could work…but promise I won't come home one day and find you gyrating across the living room."
She rolled her eye. "I did ballet. Dear Lord, Artemis."
"How many more people is he trying to sign on?"
"Three more."
"That gives us a week…are we going to be ready in a week?"
"Are we? I'm sorry, Artemis, but I just don't know anymore. If MI was really behind us all the time, where were they when we really needed backup? I'm starting to think that they really weren't joking when they said we were extendable."
Artemis shrugged. "They worry about themselves, just like every other person I've ever met. Except Butler. But Butler's employed to watch out for me."
"Lord knows you need it."
"At least my father isn't responsible for about twenty deaths a week," he shot back.
She shrugged. "Not my problem." She stretched and started to leave. "I think we're not having dinner tonight, unless you consider a pack of saltine crackers dinner."
He let out a fake sound of pleasure. "Oh, your gourmet tastes exceed my measly taste buds."
"Yeah, you're funnier when you're nauseous. I'll have to start giving you syrup of Ipecac to keep things lively around here."
"Good night, Barbara." He called from around the corner. She called from the couch.
"Remember, flush!"