Chapter VI

::::Outside the House::::
The limousine pulled up outside a medium-sized house in the middle of Chester suburbia. Artemis looked it up and down, bored, and wondered how he'd ever been talked into leaving all but two of his computers behind, along with Butler, his supply of caviar, and most likely his freedom too. Ah yes. Juliet, he thought. Lovely girl, but pure evil.

"Sir?" the driver said enquiringly. He had, after all, been holding the door open for three minutes while the motionless boy stared into space. Artemis looked at the man, blinked, then collected his things and got out of the car. He handed the chauffeur a £50 note as a tip (the fare had already been charged to his credit card) and then ignored the man who had begun to perform a strange and somewhat disturbing victory dance. The elder Fowls would never know about the limousine, Artemis thought; no reason for them to find out, and anyway I'm sure they won't care. Their bad luck if they do, too.

Artemis walked slowly towards the front door. He paused for a moment when he reached it, took a breath, and then knocked loudly.

::::Inside the House::::

"Jenny! Artemis is here! Make yourself presentable and be nice!" Helen Brown called up the stairs.

Jenny groaned. She had been dreading this moment for the last two weeks, and better yet, when it came she'd just returned from choir practice after a long and infuriatingly boring day at school. Be nice, eh, she thought as she quickly ran a comb through her hair. It was almost funny, how 'nice' she intended to be. The poor boy.

She peeked out the window and saw, to her surprise, a limousine. An airport one, albeit, not a private one, but a limo nevertheless. She heard her mother open the door to the boy and greet him, then say, significantly, 'Jenny will be right down.' As Jenny hopped over the piles of God-knows-what on her bedroom floor and raced down the hall, it suddenly occurred to her to clean her room. Ah well, too late for that now I suppose, she thought as she jumped down the last few stairs and landed in an undignified heap at the boy's feet.

"And this is our lovely daughter, Jenny," sighed Mrs Brown.

"A pleasure, I'm sure," said Artemis, without even trying to disguise his boredom and discreetly moving away from the fallen girl.

"So, you're Artemis Fowl, right? Nice to meet you, I guess," Jenny replied as she climbed clumsily to her feet.

"Sorry about my somewhat, er, inelegant entry, I can assure you that I am not always… well actually scrap that, I am generally this much of a klutz. But anyway, er, yeah. Um… how was your trip?"

"Yes dear, how did you find the trip? It wasn't too unbearable, was it?"

"No, madam, it was not unbearable, although some aspects came distressingly close. On the whole it was no less enjoyable than any other trip I have taken in a public aircraft."

"Ah, well yes, they are quite… well, anyway, dear, are you hungry? I can find something nice for you, and if you tell me your favourite meal I can prepare it for dinner. What would you like, dear?"

Artemis considered for a moment. Caviar would be his obvious choice, but equally obvious was the fact that the Browns would not have any in the cupboard, nor the means to purchase a reasonable amount of it. They weren't poor, but all the same – it would be a somewhat awkward position to put them in. Whether or not this would be a problem for him, he was yet to decide. He eventually came to a conclusion that there would be plenty of other opportunities to make his hosts uncomfortable, and took the easy way out.

"I would be happy to eat anything that Jennifer is partial to, madam. But there is one thing that I must ask of you, and that is to refrain from calling me 'dear'. I must admit that I find it rather demeaning."

Mrs Brown's eyes widened a little. She was not used to the cool self-assurance and formality of this boy – most teenagers in this situation would either be quite withdrawn, or else even more extroverted than they normally were. The sentence 'help him to…develop socially' came to her mind, and she wondered what it could possibly mean. Apart from a little arrogance, which was only to be expected in a boy from his background, he was the epitome of a young gentleman. Right down to the suit, too. Perfectly tailored, and obviously finest quality shoes – probably Italian leather. Lovely young man, she concluded.

"Alright then, Jenny, what do you want for dinner? We have pasta and rice, or I guess we could go out…"

Jenny thought for a moment, and then smiled slightly. A plan had come to mind which was bound to show Arty dearest the true meaning of life at the Brown house.

"Um, whatever, mum. That soup you made a few weeks ago was nice though; can you make some more of that? I think Artemis would like to try it."

"Why of course, darling. I had no idea you liked it so much! I'll start on it soon. In the meantime, would either of you like a snack?"

Jenny shrugged, and Artemis shook his head.

"No thankyou, Mrs Brown; I will wait until dinner. By the way, ought I to call you Mrs Brown for the duration of my stay here, or is there an alternative name you would prefer to call you?"

"Oh goodness, how could I forget! Call me Helen, dea- Artemis, and is it alright for us to call you Artemis?"

Well I'm sure he'd prefer Supreme God of the Universe and Beyond, thought Jenny, but I guess that's not going to happen. Maybe at Fowl Castle or wherever it is that he lives, but not here. Wow, I just can't wait until dinnertime, she thought not-so-randomly, looking at the slight smirk on the boy's face and mentally imitating it.

"Artemis is indeed an appropriate name for you to call me, madams, seeing as it appears upon various legal documents in my possession. If at any point it is necessary for you to address me by another name, I shall inform you of the fact. But for now, would it be possible for one of you to show me a place where I might place my belongings?"

Helen and Jenny looked at each other. Did he just pay us out? Jenny thought to herself. A little sarcastic, though Helen.

"Jenny, show Artemis to the spare room please. You could carry one of his bags for him, too."

Jenny sighed and picked up a suitcase. In books, she thought, someone always says something like 'this is going to be a looong stay'. And I couldn't have put it a better way. Dammit.

::::::In Haven::::::

Holly and Trouble stared motionlessly at their commander. Root had just explained the whole situation to them, and from the serious look on his face it seemed that they were allowed a few moments of shock after his speech, which was, after all, quite shocking. Not many, however.

"Well don't just sit there staring, we need to get on! You two will need just the minimum gear for your first trip; you'll just be doing recon first. Foaly will get you comm sets and wings of some description." Root cleared his throat significantly and Foaly's head jerked up, obviously having been oblivious to the goings-on around him for some time.

"Yes, Julius, the goblins are quite ugly indeed, although I don't quite see the importance of that fact…"

"Donkey, have you even been awake for the last thirty minutes? You blasted pony, don't you even realise…" Root was becoming redder and redder, and Trouble jumped in as the Commander paused to take a breath.

"He wants you to get us comm sets and wings, Foaly. Go before he starts again," the elf muttered. Foaly took this hint and left quickly, leaving Root to exhale loudly and grumble about irresponsible staff and the budget

"Erm… was there anything you wanted us to do while Foaly was getting the stuff, Commander?" asked Holly tentatively. She immediately regretted it, and braced herself for some serious shouting. Which never came.

"Holly, Trouble, I really need you people to think this through and do the best job you can. Goblins on their own we can handle with our eyes closed, but the people directing them appear to be very dangerous. As yet, we don't actually know what they're hoping to achieve by their actions, and that's why we're sending you two in. Find out all you can, then get back without them seeing you. Got it?"

Holly and Trouble nodded, then turned to Foaly who was holding out shiny wings and comm sets.

"Feel privileged, guys. Newest wings off the production line, haven't even hit the commercial market yet. PhreeFoll 2005 SE version 2.7. Designed by me, naturally, and manufactured by Folly Laboratories – they used to be Koboi Labs, but, you know…" Foaly smirked.

"So you've finally achieved a complete monopoly over Haven technology, eh Pony boy? Not bad, except your corporate propaganda is ill-timed at best and at worst, most unwelcome and thereby increasing my blood pressure again…" Root had narrowed his eyes and the purple tinge, which had only just abated, was returning at a fast rate.

"Er, yeah… the comm sets are cool too, make up your own advertisement, and they work pretty much the same as the older ones. Neutrino, anyone?" Foaly continued hurriedly, brandishing previously concealed two Neutrino 2000v3s.

"Did I request guns for the captains? I don't believe I did. Put them away at once, donkey."

"But, protection, Commander? Surely you aren't just going to send them off into Frond-knows-where without even a gun?"

"Yeah, we aren't going to shoot anyone, but having one just in case might be useful…" added Trouble.

"Fine. Take the stupid gun, I really don't care right now. But if you use them in any situation other than a real emergency…" Root left the sentence dangling, but the other people in the room could fill in the blanks without further information.

The two captains took the equipment and left with a 'See you round' to Foaly and a salute to the commander. Foaly, after farewelling his friends, turned to his workstation and began typing frantically.

"What's the rush, horse-man? This had better not have anything to do with our current manoeuvre; I want a smooth operation here," said Root, a slight threat in his tone of voice.

"Well, uh, you know how all their stuff is newest of new, right?" Foaly began hesitantly. "Well, you see, I haven't yet had, er, the chance to, well, program it into my communications database. Stuff has been pretty busy right now, and, well…" The centaur pointedly avoided turning around, but even he could not miss the snorting noises coming from somewhere within fifteen centimetres of his right ear. He winced pre-emptively but no roar came. Only a few very calm words that distressed him more than anything Root could possibly have screamed.

"I will leave you to it then, centaur; I need to review the annual budget. Good morning," said Root, and left.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" cried Foaly once the commander had left the Ops Booth. Not surprisingly, he had again made the mistake of knocking his CDs onto the infamous PA button, resulting in uproar throughout the LEP building. But at this point Foaly, who was now curled up in a foetal position on the floor, couldn't care less.

::::In a Hole::::

Mulch was packed and ready to leave the hole which had been his home for the last few days. He had his favourite jewel, acquired a few months back from a mansion in Portugal. It had its own, probably very pompous, name in Spanish, but he had chosen to call it Ursula, and took it on regular dates. Other dwarves of his acquaintance were familiar with the excuse 'I'm out with Ursie that night, sorry', although they believed Ursie to be an animate being. Some would say that Mulch thought so too, however this would be taken for granted obviously, as they already believed her to be his girlfriend… anyway, the point is, he had Ursie.

He pointed his nose in the direction of Fowl Manor and unbuttoned the flap on his pants in preparation for the journey. At the first bite of dirt he became peaceful, literally at one with the earth, and he travelled quickly through the soil on his way to his destiny. Or so he thought.

::::The Station in Inverness::::

The train pulled slowly into the platform at Inverness and Artemis Fowl the First sighed, resigned to his fate. He was desperately hoping that Francesca wouldn't notice the laptop he had smuggled at the bottom of his suitcase, at least until after he had closed the deal. Family and honesty were all very well, and very important things indeed, but they had to live somehow, and Artemis II would be most disappointed if his inheritance was much less thanthe boy himselfhad acquired before the age of ten. Which left another $30 million for Artemis I to add, and these honest deals weren't quite as lucrative as he was used to – most of the profits went to those blasted lawyers anyway. But all the same, they were considerably less dangerous, he would definitely admit. Far fewer people are assassinated on the grounds of them taking part in a completely above-board and honest dealing with someone. But on the topic of assassination… oh god. Francesca. At the window. Smiling that smile which was yellow and disgusting because she didn't believe in the technology dentists used. Shudder.

"Coming, darling?" his wife twittered, prodding him with the end of her umbrella. "We have to get off quickly, dear, the train keeps going even further north, and I'm quite sure you wouldn't like that one bit."

"I'd like it about as much as I'd like to see Francesca again," muttered Artemis.

"I heard that, Timmy, now be nice and don't you dare let her see that computer! Yes, I know you've packed it, but she'll break it if she sees it, and I'm quite sure you don't want that."

Did Angeline know everything, Artemis asked himself. The computer… it was right down the bottom, and she hadn't been around… ah, suppose it doesn't matter much anyway, he concluded, and sighed again as he attempted to unload the baggage from the racks at the end of the carriage.

"Can I help you there, sir?" asked a young porter who had noticed Artemis struggling.

"I'm fine, thankyou, young man," Artemis replied, straining to lift the suitcase.

"Sir, I must insist – the train has to leave in a minute, and we can't be late…"

"Fine. Whatever. Take the stuff, here's your tip. Thankyou," he said reluctantly, giving the porter an exorbitant tip as was his habit. The man thanked him and carried the baggage easily off the train. Artemis sighed, and resolved to get into better shape – he was almost completely recovered from his Murmansk experience, and no longer had any excuse to be weak.

::::LEP Headquarters, Haven::::

"Hey Trouble, what do you think of the name of these wings?" asked Holly, who had been staring at the wings as she walked down the corridor, consequently bashing into several other people.

"What did Foaly say they were called again?"

"PhreeFoll, but the way he said it, it kind of sounded like free fall…"

"O-kay, whatever, Holly, I'm sure they're fine. Come on, we'd better be off."

"Yep. Comm set for you, Trubs?"

"Thanks… hey that's odd, is yours connected to the network?"

"Nah… oh well, I guess Foaly is working on it as we speak."

And the two elves revved up the wings and flew off over the rooftops of Haven.

Sorry this chapter was so late guys... but hopefully now I can post more often because I have my summer break OMG I'VE FINISHED YR 10 YIPPEE hehe excuse me. Please review!