Defiance: Broken

Artemis Fowl ran a hand through his raven hair as he walked away from the cell. He frowned. There was something very wrong with the current situation. He seemed lost in thought when the large Eurasian manservant approached him.

"Artemis?" he said, gently laying a hand on his employer's shoulder.

"Hmm…what is it, Butler?"

"I think we're being a little too harsh," said Butler slowly.

Artemis stopped. "I know, I know. But we have no choice. She is incredibly intelligent. You could almost see it in her eyes…" his voice trailed off.

Butler looked puzzled. He cleared his throat. Artemis suddenly snapped back to his professional self.

"I've read about her antics, Butler. Believe me; it won't pay to underestimate her."

Butler nodded solemnly. He knew exactly what underestimation could lead to.

Know thine enemy had been the motto throughout the Fowl generations. But Artemis had to admit somewhat grudgingly, that he had been rather lenient on that aspect on one occasion, and it cost him more than just sleepless nights.

Artemis had been so wrapped in his dealings with Jon Spiro and the C Cube that he neglected to update on his usual follow-up on the movements of Britva and his Mafiya cronies who had once kidnapped his father, Artemis Fowl Senior. He completely forgot that a ruthless man such as Britva would never go easy on anyone who had tricked him.

When Artemis' father set out for one of his business trips to central Dublin, Britva had his cronies waylay his limousine and abducted him. Again.

The message he sent Artemis was nowhere near comforting. This time it was fast money or chop, chop. There was also a five –second video of one of his hostage's fate. It took Artemis a week to get that gruesome clip out of his brain. He was forced to resort to his usual plan, asking the People for help. He spent valuable time trying to convince the council to lend him a hand, and finally his efforts saw light. The council provided him with their finest reconnaissance unit, and out he went with them to the heart of Russia.

But unfortunately the mission went terribly wrong. Britva had anticipated them somehow, and in a fine show of fury, shot Artemis Senior's bodyguard, one of the Butlers. In trying to help, the Recon squad's leader Trouble Kelp was trapped along with the hostage. Britva didn't know of it, but there was not much Trouble could do. His strength as well as his magic was sapping fast in the radiation-laden environment. He was growing weaker with every passing minute.

With a double-hostage situation in his hand, Artemis could do nothing but retreat and await further orders.

Their latest demand had been quite surprising. Fifteen million US dollars and an American girl. A thirteen-year old American girl.

Artemis ran manifold internet searches on his target, as was his usual line of action. At first the search turned up almost nothing. "Reddler Croft" only showed inventories of logging companies, the Britannica dictionary homepage and mundane rock bands. After several exasperating attempts, he had Foaly set up a fine-tune search, and the results were astonishing. All of Reddler Croft's files were encrypted. Even Foaly admitted that Symbiosis, Inc. had taken great pains to make sure none of her files were revealed on the internet.

For two whole days, Artemis Fowl read up as much as he could on the Croft girl. Her credits were phenomenal. Artemis was impressed. Her field plans and patents were ingenious; and her security programming was unparalleled in precision. It took Foaly several sleepless nights to figure out the access codes to their chateau. The last parameter was impossible. It would be up to Artemis to improvise.

Apparently Britva had someone powerful lending him a hand on the American side. Try as he might, Artemis had no idea who that was, and neither did Foaly.

The Croft girl had something in Russia which Britva had got wind of, and wanted very desperately. Obviously it didn't take a brainer to figure out that there were big bucks involved.

Already the situation was too messed up, as Juliet Butler would have put it. It had too many complications. Artemis didn't like the fact that his hostage was actually capable of outwitting him.

Not to mention that she was the most exotic creature that he had ever laid eyes upon. The most exotic, and very wily.

He doubted if he liked the combination.

"Even so, she is but a mere human," said Captain Holly Short, sliding into visible spectrum above Artemis' shoulder. "Don't let your tormented thoughts run away with you, Fowl."

They entered the study, and at once Artemis' gaze flew to the surveillance monitor.

There was nothing on it, except for a blur of screen snow.

And at that very moment, there was a huge crash.

Artemis raised an eyebrow at Holly. "You were saying?" he said.

Butler was frantically scanning the estate's various security view cams, as per Artemis' orders.

"She's not on the grounds," he said.

"Then she's still in the house," said Artemis, looking very uneasy. He stepped out of the study, with Butler and Holly trailing him. He ran to the cell and punched in the codes to the door. The door opened noiselessly, and they gingerly stepped in.

In the pale light filtering from the corridor, they saw a mass of debris on the floor. The camera was smashed to bits, along with the ceiling light. The freely dangling camera cable caught Butler's eye, and he shifted his gaze upwards.

"Why, the cunning…" he breathed.

Artemis and Holly followed his gaze, until their eyes rested on the gaping vent. Butler played his flashlight through it, and it caught the splintered remains of the cable side-vent.

Artemis narrowed his eyes.

"Butler, sound the alarm. Put the auto-locks in place. We have to make sure she doesn't escape," he ordered sharply, stumbling into the corridor in rage.

Butler was about to comply, but he stopped.

There was a sound of breaking glass.

And then a scream pierced the silence. It went on and on and on.

The three of them broke into a run. Butler halted for half a second to set the alarms and trackers, and then led the way to the lounge.

Reddler opened her eyes one at a time. She found herself lying in a fetal position on a narrow bunk. Back in the blasted cell. Oh, for joy. Her head spun as the flurry of preceding events struck her like a guillotine. Wave after wave of nausea washed over her and forced her back to the pillow.

Reddler gasped. There was a strange, sickly sadness inside her. She felt empty, as if her insides had been forked out.

Empty and cold.

The grief hung about like a heavy veil. The Terror lay underneath.

Waiting, always waiting.

She started as the door suddenly whirred open. In the sharp contrast of the mended cell lights, she saw Butler come in with a tray of food. At the sight of him, the grief seemed to flee in an instant, replaced by The Terror. She instinctively moved back, but there was nowhere to go. Her body almost merging with the wall, she watched him with her quivering blue eyes.

Butler set the tray of food down and crossed the length of the cramped little cell and sat down on his haunches near the bunk.

He said nothing for a moment, but studied the huddled figure before him.

My, is her face defiant.

But in her eyes was extreme fear, and her entire body trembled as he came closer.

Why is she so afraid? Butler had seen fear before, but this was different. This was absolute terror.

Why?

"You must be hungry," he said gently.

She said nothing, but her eyes never left him.

"You're going to make yourself ill if you keep at it. I suggest you have a bite to eat, and then come down to the conference room. Artemis wants to have a talk with you."

No response. She didn't even blink. Butler sighed, and waved a hand to brush away an errant strand of burgundy hair that fell on her face. But as soon as his fingers touched her skin, she leapt back like a singed cat and cowered at a corner. Butler immediately drew his gun to defend the exit, but put it down as soon as he realized that she was not in an attacking stance, and that his action had frightened her further. She was actually trying to escape from him. Butler was puzzled. He wondered what Master Artemis was thinking, watching the entire scene through the newly installed camera on the reinforced lattice grille that now covered the ceiling vent. No instructions on the earpiece.

I guess I'm on my own, thought Butler.

He put the gun back in his pocket and went over to her with his hands in the air.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you. Will you please listen to me?" his military tone seemed harsh even to him.

Reddler put her head into her hands as she silently crouched at the far end of the bunk.

"Reddler," said Butler softly. "What's wrong?"

She sat at the corner, the furthest possible distance from Butler. Slowly she raised her head and sighed.

"What isn't? I guess I have no other choice but to submit to this…" her voice was ragged and defeated. Butler studied her intently as she spoke. Her eyes were locked in space, but he noted the exhaustion in them.

Flashback: three years earlier

Eleven-year old Reddler nimbly skipped down the steps of her father's private jetliner and took a minute to stretch herself. Irish breeze sometimes carries with it the smell of the sea, and the one that sifted through the terminal of the Dublin airport certainly did. It blew Reddler's hair into riotous curls as she beckoned to her best friend behind her.

"Are we moving, or what?" she shouted over the drone of the jet.

"Slow down, Red. We'll be back in Manhattan in the afternoon at this rate," said the tall, blond-haired boy, grinning. He shifted his field pack to his shoulder and adjusted his favorite Ferrogamo shades on his head.

Reddler scowled. "Lamer, pal," she remarked. The boy shrugged, smiling. A year older than Reddler, Eric Shaw was tall, athletic and extremely good-humored. He had piercing blue-gray eyes and an air of deep, quiet intelligence about him.

Reddler followed him to the terminal's executive car park. She tossed her things at the back of his BMW and settled in at the front seat. Eric came over and took the wheel. He was about to swerve the car in quick reverse, when he noticed his partner's face.

"What's wrong, girl?" he asked, switching off the ignition and shifting to face her.

Reddler wasn't looking at him. "I don't know, Eric. I get a weird feeling about this entire business. Why do we have to stay at a criminal lord's mansion anyway? We could always stay at the Hyatt, or…"

Eric nodded slowly. "I read you, Red. Artemis Fowl is a criminal, but he's also powerful. We could do with some help from him. And not staying over at his place sends out an 'I-don't-trust you' vibe, don't you think?" he asked gently.

"I don't know, Eric. I don't know," she said, frowning.

Eric squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It'll go okay. You're just a little hyper after that talk with Easton, right?" He looked into her eyes and met her surprised stare. "I'm not backing him, Red. I don't trust him either. Maybe something will happen this time. It always does, anyway." Reddler still seemed skeptical. Eric sighed and revved the engine. "Hey, stuff happens. And if it does, Scottie says we handle it," he finished firmly.

Reddler spared him a wan smile as they pulled out of the airport on to the highway.

Eric Shaw was an extremely skilled field agent, apart from being a competitive and consistent fighter. He was strong, and Reddler felt secure with him. She admired his logical, astute way of thinking and his concise (and sometimes annoying) military air. He lived in the estate facing the Croft chateau, and had been friend to the Croft prodigy for years. He had taught her to fish and ski. Eric, in turn, respected her intelligence very much, and both of their likings grew into a warm, mutual friendship.

Reddler was genuinely relieved to find Eric at Symbiosis by her side. Especially as of now, because Easton had started expressing his displeasure in alarmingly torturous ways.

They pulled into the driveway of a large sixteenth-century manor and gazed around. It was a quiet, sprawling estate, well-kept and landscaped with great taste. Reddler was awed by the size of the place. She could see the picturesque Irish country roll beyond the estate walls and hear the soft, gentle sound of the sea at the skerry below.

Someone cleared a throat at her shoulder, and she turned around. A lean, prim man stood imperiously at her side. He had brilliant blue eyes, but the evil in them sent all the appreciation for the beautiful place scurrying out of Reddler's head. He offered his hand to her.

"Welcome to Ireland, Reddler. How do you like it here?" It was a disarming, friendly enough question, but somehow the lack of emotion in his voice made it sound exactly the opposite. Reddler took his hand, shook it and left it in half a second.

"Very well, sir," she said. "May I compliment you on your manor? It is beautiful."

Artemis Fowl laughed, and Reddler tried not to cringe.

"Thank you. It is quite a compliment coming from a smart girl like you."

You wish, she thought. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes in apprehension. He turned to Eric. "And you, young man," he said, giving him a friendly pat on the back, "must be another of Easton's famous agents…Eric, isn't it? I have to say, I'll have to be careful with my affairs for a little while, hmm?"

Both of them laughed uneasily. "Thank you for having us, Mr. Fowl. We appreciate your support," said Eric, glancing at Reddler, who nodded animatedly. It was obvious that they would be as relaxed in his presence as they would with a particularly ill-tempered viper.

They had to watch their words, going over them thrice before actually saying them.

Reddler studied the scandalous tycoon as he spoke.

"Relax, my boy," he said. "All this formality gets on my nerves. Just out of curiosity, though, I have to say that I doubt if the both of you are entirely ignorant of the situation here. I haven't been very sincere, I know…another reason to have the CIA on my tail, I suppose," he added with a laugh. The wind played about with his dark hair and his eyes glinted in the sun. Reddler was surprised by his uncanny resemblance to David Easton at that precise moment. "However," he continued, "the two of you have no reason to…dread me. Easton must have explained to you by now, that I'm on your side." His eyes were locked on Reddler, and his voice suddenly took a deep, assuring tone. "I give you my word that no harm shall come to you while you are in my premises."

The two juvenile agents were taken aback by his words. Were they to believe the words of a man who left Interpol chasing its own tail for decades? All the same, they could help but feel the tiniest twinge of relief.

"There's no need for that, sir. We…" faltered Eric. "We trust you well enough," he said after a second.

Artemis Fowl smiled a smile that made the hairs at back of Eric's neck rise and press against his collar.

"I wouldn't mistake the two of you for professionals. All right then, we'll go indoors. I had Butler freshen your rooms before you arrived, they're quite inviting. Butler, why don't you show them inside?"

As if on cue, a tall, well-built man emerged from the shadows of the porch and came out into the sunlight. He reminded Reddler of a professional wrestler and a particularly savage ape blended in to resemble a human. He strode over to the BMW, and Eric obligingly opened the boot for him. He took all of their bags in one hand.

"Very well, then. Reddler, Eric… I'll see you at lunch. Settle in," said Fowl, as he turned and entered the manor.

Butler smiled at the two of them. "Follow me," he said in a deep, surprisingly gentle voice.

Reddler and Eric looked at each other. "I still don't know," whispered Reddler.

"The food is excellent, Mrs. Fowl," said Eric, tasting a forkful of crème brûlée.

"I agree," said Reddler, tucking into hers. It was true: there was no doubt that all the courses included in lunch were prepared with the finest ingredients. Luxury was writ large in every corner of Fowl manor—from the heavily furnished rooms they were provided with, to the exquisite interior décor-- old-fashioned elegance merged imperceptibly with modern amenities. The very table at which they were sitting was made of highly polished eighteenth-century rosewood, draped with crisp damask linen, as Reddler's keen eyes had noted. The silverware shone like little mirrors in the soft light from the candelabra.

Reddler smiled unconsciously, eased by the pretty, lazy atmosphere.

"Thank you," said Angeline Fowl, gesturing to Butler to refill her glass. "Both of you have wonderful manners, I can see. I wish Arty could meet the two of you. He'd be delighted, I'm sure."

"Who's Arty, Mrs. Fowl?" asked Eric, setting down his fork.

"He's my son, Artemis Fowl the second. He's away at boarding school," she said, raising a flute of Château Pétrus to the candlelight. She gazed into its swirling redness for a moment. "He's about your age, Eric."

Eric glanced at his partner, shrugging. Angeline Fowl had none of her husband's intimidating personality. Her dark eyes were large and liquid, and had a motherly look in them. She had dark, glossy hair and carried herself with a regal elegance. She wore a soft, fruity perfume that reminded Reddler of her own mother.

A long, long time ago, when even the snow felt warm and life wasn't complicated.

"Timmy couldn't join us for lunch, I'm afraid. He had to leave for Dublin on some business, and he sent you his apologies…finished already, Reddler?"

Reddler dabbed her mouth with the napkin on her lap. "Oh yes, I couldn't eat a bite more. Superb lunch, Mrs. Fowl," she said, getting up. "Do you mind if we take a look around? I would really like a try at croquet."

"Not at all," replied Mrs. Fowl, "just ask Butler for some mallets on your way out."

"Would you stop already?" whined Eric, panting. "We must've covered the grounds at least twice."

"Just checking the getaway routes," said Reddler, breathing hard. "Okay, one last lap, and we're finished." She started for the manor. Eric threw up his hands, but made no protest. He had learned a long time back not to argue with his partner, however fantastic her plans sounded. Somehow, in a roundabout way, they usually ended up making sense.

He followed her past the double garage, which she seemed to glance at just a bit more than was absolutely necessary before moving on. Finally, they came to the croquet pitch. Reddler set her mallet down and sat on the freshly trimmed grass.

Eric knew that she wanted to talk to him, because they were sitting in the middle of an open field, nowhere near any trees, where cameras could be concealed.

She pulled out her laptop from her coat and put it on her lap. After a while, she faced Eric with the slightest hint of anxiety in her eyes.

"You do know that Artemis Fowl isn't in Dublin right now," she said.

"Yes," admitted Eric. "I guessed it when we passed the garage. The cars are still there, which means he's right here."

"Correct. He's right here, and he's engrossed in some very intriguing e-mailing at the moment."

"How do you know?"

"I developed an infra-red port that reads networking systems…and there's a feast of IMacs in the manor. They're encrypted, no doubt, but come on. 'Encrypted' is like a Chinese puzzle to me. One that comes with the instructions," she chuckled.

"How come his e-mail is intriguing?"

"Well, I can't exactly read the contents, but the best I can do is trace it. And guess what? Mr. Fowl has been very busy chatting with someone at Symbiosis," said Reddler, consulting her laptop. "But the interesting bit is that an hour ago, the e-mails has been redirected, dialed through the university at St. Petersburg."

"Russia," mused Eric. "This just gets messier by the second."

Reddler snapped shut her laptop and put it back in her coat pocket. "Look here, Eric. I don't like where this is going. We've been lied to, and there's one source too many for Mr. Fowl's correspondence at Symbiosis. Frankly, I think that we should leave while there's still a chance."

Eric frowned at her. "I get the same feeling, Red. But we can't just turn tail and run. This is Ireland, remember? It's Fowl kingdom. We can't underestimate him, and chances are we won't get past the airport. I'm sure he's got lots of goons around to do his dirty work. There are only two of us, Reddler…and besides," he said, brightening, "it could be one big mix-up and we can sail outta this in no time."

Reddler wasn't convinced. "Yeah, right. Can you check out his e-mail for me? I'll give you the encryption codes. I hate the decrypting bit; I'm suck at it. Give it a shot, will you?"

"All right, I'll get to it right now. And hey, could you make yourself a little less paler? You'll be short listed in a zombie flick in a little while. It'll be okay," he said, laughing.

Reddler could almost see the fear in his blue-gray-blue eyes.

Dinner was a considerably light affair as compared to lunch: parmesan canapé followed by brioche rolls served with ragout. It was served on the portico overlooking the croquet greens, and a nightly breeze whispered against the rapidly fading light. Eric and Reddler readily started to eat, as they were ravenous after the long day. They had just finished the first course, when the portico door opened, and in strode Artemis Fowl, dressed in a vintage dinner jacket and a cold smile. He walked over to his wife and sat next to her.

"Back so soon, Timmy?" asked Angeline sweetly, planting a fond kiss on her husband's cheek.

"Yes, they concluded the meeting sooner than I expected," he said. "How do my little guests like it here?"

"Very well, Mr. Fowl," said Reddler politely. "It's really comfortable, and the greens are lovely."

"Like it, eh?" he asked, abruptly turning to meet her eyes. In the dim twilight, his face looked more sinister than ever. Reddler put her fork down. Her hands shook so much that she couldn't hold it properly. Artemis Fowl smiled his disturbingly ominous smile. "All I can say is," he mused, taking a sip of wine, "enjoy it while it lasts."

Reddler's breath caught in her throat. She glanced over at Eric, but he didn't seem to care, and was engrossed in his food.

She turned to her plate, but her appetite was gone.

Reddler laid thinking in her bed for a long time that night. She didn't trust Artemis Fowl an iota. He had given them his word, no doubt, but was she to trust a criminal? Not today, thank you.

Although she was exhausted, Reddler was too anxious to sleep. What if he were up to something while they were asleep?

But gradually fatigue overcame her, and she grew drowsy. She could hear the sound of feet in the hallway outside, and sometimes brief snatches of conversation. I don't like it here, she thought as she fell asleep.

She was awakened a short while later by a hand on her shoulder and another over her mouth. Surprised by the sudden attack, she panicked and tried to backhand her assailant, but was abruptly pulled out of the bed.

"Shh… it's me," said a soft voice, and the hold on her slackened.

"Eric! What's wrong?" asked Reddler in a tense whisper.

"Quiet. Come to my room, I have to show you something."

Reddler silently followed him to the next room. It was dark, and his e-book lay propped open on the bed, radiating a soft green glow.

"I stayed up and decrypted the e-mails. And it's as nasty as it can get. Someone has been feeding Fowl with all sorts of junk, telling him that we're spies who are out to bust his business. He was disbelieving at first, saying that we're just kids out on school work, but then he saw us on the green with the notebook. They must have CCTVs all over his place. Anyway, he was absolutely livid. Thinks we're going to screw up his grubby work in Russia."

"But he doesn't have any sectors out there. I ran a bio on him before we left," she said, frowning.

"No, but that's his next stop. He's out to expand the Fowl Empire, and he'll be creating a market for cola in Murmansk. He's already chartered a cargo ship and stocked it."

"And he thinks we'll stop him…how, exactly?"

"I don't know. By blowing it up or something…here's the clincher, though." He moved closer to her, and his voice was almost a whisper. "Whoever's giving him this information is way ahead of us. They planted wads of ammo under the BMW, taped it or something. I guess Fowl sent that ape-man to check, et voila! Two teenage spies at your disposal."

Reddler was reeling. It was a little hard to take, given the circumstances. "What are we going to do?" she said.

"We have to get out of here, girl. I know that Fowl guy, and chances are he won't be giving us cotton candy. Get your stuff together, and let's scram." His voice was calm, but urgent. Reddler quickly got up and strode to the door, but it slammed open before she reached it.

Silhouetted in the cold, murky light of the hallway stood Artemis Fowl, his face as black as thunder. Reddler backed away as fast as she could and stood near her partner.

"Going somewhere?" asked Artemis Fowl, his features twisting into a malicious grin.

"Mr. Fowl, we know what you're thinking," began Eric, shielding Reddler behind him. "Just give us a minute to explain."

But he didn't let Eric finish. He marched into the room and looked Eric right in the eye.

"Oh, but I don't give a minute to people like you. This is what I do give." He deftly stepped aside to reveal Butler with an automatic revolver in his hand, pointed straight at Eric.

Artemis Fowl almost gave off an aura of pure spite at that moment. He tutted, shaking his head. "Now this just won't do. Who do you think you are? You're just a couple of useless kids who think they've got better brains, and can fool someone like me. Do you even realize, realize what you've done? You tried to trick Artemis Fowl. You rats should have known better. And you call yourself agents! Hilarious!" his gaze narrowed, and in the dim light his eyes glittered like those of a snake. "No one—no one has duped me and got away with it; and you two pests won't be the first, I can tell you."

Reddler gasped, petrified. She could see that Eric was scared, too, but he held his ground and looked ready to fight.

"Please!" she pleaded. "Mr. Fowl! At least listen to us! This is a set-up!"

"How very droll, Reddler Croft, considering it was your idea," said the unforgiving voice.

"I didn't!" she cried. "We were sent on another pretext, you can call…"

"Excuses, excuses," sighed the tycoon in mock frustration. "I tell you, Reddler, this is not how I make money."

He gave a slight nod to Butler. "She goes first. Then the boy."

"NO!" screamed Reddler. "No, no! Butler, you can't do this to us! Please, NO!"

Her plea was met with silence. Butler's face was devoid of any emotion as he cocked the revolver and emptied the cartridge in four quick shots, all directed at blinding force at her.

Eric began moving before the bullets did. He leapt at his friend and pushed her out of harm's way. The bullets struck the notebook on the bed, and smothered out the only source of light in the room. Groping in the brief darkness that enveloped the room, Artemis Fowl angrily flipped the lights on.

Eric and Reddler were gone.

Soft, frosty moonlight filtered in through an open window.

At that moment, Eric and Reddler were running for their lives. Reddler was tired and was almost ready to drop, but Eric urged her on. He was thankful that she had decided to study the layout of the grounds earlier that day. He knew that Fowl would have extra security on the gates, so he decided to set his sights on the skerry. They had been running for quite a while, looping round to confuse the guards. At last, they reached a grassy mound from where they could see the sea. It was still quite far from where they were standing. Reddler almost collapsed at this point.

"Eric," she gasped. "I can't…go…on. I can't walk, let alone run. You go on…I have to rest." She fell to her knees, but almost instantaneously Eric pulled her up.

"We have to go on, girl," he pleaded. "No, no, don't sit down…please! Come on, it's just one last bit and we'll be fine. You'll feel better in the water, I promise. Come on, come on, come on, Reddler!" he insisted, but she only stood there, trembling with exhaustion.

"I don't have an ounce of energy left in me…just go, Eric," she said, panting. Her face was hot and flushed.

"I'd never do that," he whispered tensely. "Please—just try!"

"I can't. I can't. I can't. I ca-can't," she was almost crying.

"We'll make it! Just come with me! Stand up, Reddler…don't do this to me!" he shouted.

Suddenly they were caught in the glare of what seemed like a hundred floodlights.

"How very dramatic," said Artemis Fowl, standing beside them. His stare was absolutely caustic. "Although I don't think running will help you much now, Eric Shaw. Unless you intend to dodge bullets, that is," he said, slightly out of breath.

"And you," he said, turning his gaze to the shivering girl standing beside Eric. "You are a very clever girl, Reddler. Yes…you've got a spot of talent for this business, I'll admit. Too bad you wasted it on research at that pitiful institution. Research, my dear, won't bring in the money. The millions of pounds with which you can buy anything you want. Anything. You can buy a mansion just like mine, or a yacht."

"I have a yacht," spat Reddler.

"Tut, tut. It isn't wise to antagonize people who can eliminate you in seconds. However," he said, with a glint in his blue eyes, "I have a proposition. I'll spare you, if you join my forces, and work for me. You can have money and security like you've never known before. Forget Shaw, he goes anyway. Do we have a deal?"

"Mr. Fowl," said Reddler, shaking. "You can damn well keep your proposition to your own crummy self and shove it up your ass." Her tone was crisp, and there was no hint of fear.

Artemis Fowl stiffened, bristling in anger. He turned to Butler and nodded curtly.

Eric saw his moment, grabbed Reddler and ran down the mound as fast as he could. Almost a second later, gunshots tore the silence of the night. Bullets sped past them, winking silver in the moonlight. Suddenly Reddler let out a cry and tripped over. There was a bullet lodged in her ankle, and it was spewing blood. Wincing, she rose to her feet. If we stop, we die, she thought as she limped forward.

"Reddler Croft! You won't get away!" boomed his voice. She turned, and to her horror she saw Butler firmly take aim. This one wouldn't miss her! I'm going to die, she realized. There's no escaping this time. She saw a flash of her father's face, her beloved chateau, and then the familiar whiz as the cruel metal ripped through the air.

And then—as if in slow motion, she was suddenly aware of a hand shoving her to the ground, and that someone now stood vulnerable, directly in the bullet's path.

The bullet hit Eric right in the chest. He spun, and for a moment the droplets of his blood twinkled like miniature rubies in the air. They danced in the moonlight like crazy red bubbles before hitting the Irish soil. Eric uttered a soft cry and collapsed to the ground, his dark hair shining with beads of sweat. He coughed, and though his face was contorted with pain, he managed a small, sad smile.

"Don't…don't worry. Just run, girl."

The grass was now soaked in maroon. His vision was rapidly failing him. With the last bit of strength he had, he motioned Reddler to go.

"I'll be waiting," he said with a smile.

The last that Reddler ever saw of her best friend was his unperturbed, serene face reflected in his own blood.

Reddler completely stopped breathing right then. She couldn't believe her eyes. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. She was in a nightmare, and she would wake up any second now, and find him grinning at her side.

She dragged herself up. Her entire body felt lethargic, tingling with shock, as if it were drenched in a vat of acid. She leant over him, trying to check his vitals, but somehow—although she forbade herself from believing it-- she knew that the shot had been fatal.

His smile broke her to pieces. She began to tear her sleeve to make a makeshift bandage, but Eric motioned her to go.

She bent over and kissed his cheek, her tears diluting the spatter of red on his face.

She could sense Butler running down the mound, realigning his shots to take a final aim. But how, how in the world could she leave Eric? How?

He breathed in raggedly. "I'll be waiting," he said, managing a wry smile. His breathing was now limited to gasps, as he choked on his own blood. Then his body gave a final shudder and remained motionless.

The footsteps were getting closer. Reddler hesitated for a second, and then darted down the green, hysterical sobs rocking her as she ran. She couldn't feel the yards of barbed wire that ripped her clothes to shreds, couldn't feel the angry gashes they left on her. She couldn't imagine how the bullets that sailed past her actually missed her. The grief weighed her down mercilessly, she felt as though she were running against a gale, one that penetrated her to the marrow. Couldn't see, couldn't feel…

Time seemed to sputter and fluctuate in this tangled web, and Reddler could only remember dim, disjoint flashes of what happened. She remembered the prickle of the icy mesh of the wired fence, half-stepping, half-slipping on the smooth rocks at the cove, the blinding pain as the salt water stung her ankle, and the smooth, dark gloves of the RU agent who lifted her out of the water and on to the boat.

Everything else was a blur. Memories running into each other. Like too-wet colors.

The entire Ireland affair was kept classified. Easton made a short, formal speech about how committed and loyal their fellow agent had been. He said that it was a futile mission, and the events were beyond their control.

Symbiosis made all efforts to keep the event under wraps, and took utmost pains to erase all of Reddler and Eric's files from the internet, setting extensive security protocols on search engines. To protect her in case Artemis Fowl decided to hunt Reddler down and have a little chat with her, as they said.

Meanwhile Reddler was racked with grief and guilt. Nights and days merged into inseparable clots of time, and her burden grew heavier with every second. The pain of losing Eric was so intense that she could hardly get out of bed in the morning. Sometimes, lying awake late at night, she imagined him walking in through the double doors wearing his goofy grin as he always did. She remembered his ridiculous Bullwinkle impression, and how he wore his baseball cap tilted to the dopiest angle. The way he said that it was weird how her hair could glow red in the sunlight, and repeated it so often that her ears hurt.

Her memories kept him alive. Slowly, she convinced herself through extended calculations late into the night that time was non-existent, and therefore Eric could return any minute.

Supported by her self-constructed cocoon of disbelief, she began to heal.

During the years that followed, she managed to stagger back to her life. She got along pretty well, considering some thoughts were banished from her brain. But although they flickered at times, she could still pretend that they weren't there.

Because time didn't exist.

And Eric could return any minute.

End of flashback

By now her voice was drab, almost emotionless, and her eyes blank, softly staring into space. Butler wondered if she was about to have a breakdown. But she looked frantically convinced, and almost seemed ready to smile.

"He promised us," she continued, in the same monotonous voice. "He promised us…like he meant it.

"And he just stood there… just stood there watching!

"There was so much blood…

"I can't sleep…and he promised." Her voice started to shake. She shook herself and steadied suddenly, as if coming out of a trance. Her grief seemed to vanish into thin air. She looked at Butler with clear eyes.

"Are you going shoot me?" she asked.

"What?" said Butler.

"Yeah, shoot me just like that other guy did. His name was Butler, too."

Butler cringed, but tried not to show it. "He's dead. He was in Russia with Mr. Fowl and the mafia destroyed their ship. He didn't survive."

"I'm sorry," said Reddler. She sounded perfectly normal, as if genuinely touched. "Was he your brother?"

"He was my uncle."

"Oh."

There was silence for a few seconds. Reddler sighed and leaned her head against the wall. Butler studied her quietly, amazed at the sudden change in her. He stood up and turned to go.

"You had better have a bite. You haven't eaten for a long time," he said, putting the Sig Sauer back in his pocket.

There was no answer. Butler turned around and saw Reddler asleep with her cheek resting on her hand. He could make out very soft, fervent murmurs breaking the air around her.

It took Butler all of his strength to resist bashing his own head against the wall. He swore softly as he made his way to the side lounge. He was sickened to the very core. Keeping someone like her captive seemed undeniably cruel. Butler was a man of honor, and this job stretched him to the breaking point.

Artemis was waiting for him, nursing the headphones on his lap. Butler looked him straight in the eye.

"Artemis…" he began, but his young master raised his hand to silence him.

"Butler, before you voice your opinion, I assure you that I had no idea of these trivialities. Autonomous branching of the main mission was never my objective—"

"Trivialities, Artemis? How can you call it that?" his voice was even, but his eyes glinted dangerously. "I'm having doubts about my terms of employment with Mr. Fowl. How can I have protected a man who..."

"I know, Butler. I feel the same way as well. I had no idea that my father could be so…so…"

"Murderous?" piped in Holly, who was sitting next to Artemis. "Somehow, mud boy, I think you knew that a long time ago. And on some grounds, I'd say you were planning to follow in his footsteps."

Artemis sighed. "All right, I agree. But the past few years has changed my perspective. And after you healed my father, Holly, he was a new man. One I could really trust and be happy to follow, and---"

"It's okay, Artemis," said Butler, patting his shoulder. "As long as you keep away from his old ways, you'll be fine."

"Only sometimes you can't help breaking that rule," snorted Holly.

Reddler had rested, showered and eaten. Butler had thankfully brought her some clothes, jeans and a cotton silk shirt, which she felt quite comfortable in. Feeling fresh and alert, she waited for her abductor in the manor's best lounge. Artemis had instructed her to do so while he prepared his 'points of negotiation', as he put it. To which Reddler thought, bullshit.

She suddenly wondered if she was wrong to be on the point of breakdown in front of her captors. She usually held her countenance in such situations. She should have never told Butler about the Ireland heist. It brought back memories that she couldn't handle.

Reddler smoothed back her hair with a hand and took a deep breath. It was no use worrying about that now. Artemis Fowl seemed intelligent enough to force out the facts, anyway. A little too intelligent, for her taste. Reddler shivered. She had never met anyone with the same intellectual potential as herself. Meeting someone who actually surpassed her was a little disturbing.

And considering that the first time that she lost control of a situation was in full view of that someone was simply unnerving.

She wondered if Artemis considered her to some kind of emotional freak… or a bookworm who was so warped that feelings actually unbalanced her.

It was still dark outside, and pouring with rain. What time was it anyway? Reddler couldn't remember the last time she saw a watch. She could hear a grandfather clock in the hall and wondered if she'd disobey Artemis' orders and take a peep. She could hear it ticking; the sound reverberating through the lounge. Tick…tock…tick…tock...

Time.

Time doesn't exist.

The door opened.