Chapter 1

First Movement I

:i:

Artemis had woken that morning in a foul mood. This was not extremely unusual for him, but perhaps did harbor its doubts under the current circumstances. The source of his discontent was a beep from his computer, around the time of two o'clock in the morning. This too was not bizarrely abnormal as the collapsible power-book was constantly fired up in his bedroom, and its purpose was to alert him, at say, two in the morning. However, what was abnormal was the fact that:

1. It had alerted him, which signified that his encryptions had not been able to deal with the matter thus 'beeped' for human aid.

2. The human aid could not prevent the matter from occurring. This was bizarre, abnormal and unusual rolled into one, resulting in the foul mood. That said, it was a very calm and composed mood, and though foul, it must be described as a sophisticated kind of foul. But foul, never-the-less. It had to be remedied. Now.

Butler knocked twice on the study's oak door. Artemis didn't even glance up, simply issued the imperative.

"Come in."

The manservant entered, but stood, just inside the door. "Artemis, are you having any breakfast this morning?"

The Fowl heir glared, seemingly from the back of his raven haired head. "No, Butler."

Butler smiled faintly. "You mother wants you- Mister and Madam Fowl are having breakfast out on the terrace."

"Not now, Butler. I am busy. Tell Mother I do not feel well and am missing breakfast."

"She won't believe you."

Artemis waved a hand in an irritated fashion. "Then make something up. Improvise- god knows you have done that enough times."

There was a short pause. They could hear voices, trailing up from the gardens; Angeline Fowl's laughter reaching the closed windows of the study like leaves dancing on a swirl of the breeze. Artemis straightened in his chair, turning to Butler for the first time.

"I require absolute solitude for the next half hour. No interruptions. Keep my parents clear as best you can. Just half an hour- that's all I ask."

Such a request would have been the norm a few years ago. Now, Butler was forced to raise his eyebrows. Just a fraction- enough to show that he knew what was afoot. Artemis smirked and turned back to his desk. The manservant paused, his hand on the doorknob.

"Earl Grey, Artemis?"

Even with his back turned, Butler could tell his charge had just rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. Now remember- no interruptions."

It was uncanny that the years had not taken their toll on Artemis' personality. If he closed his eyes, the manservant could have sworn that the young man sitting before him was once again, twelve years old. And he left the study, the door clicking shut behind him.

Artemis could not remember the last time his encryptions had been overrun. Technically, of course, this was not entirely true as Foaly had succeeded to loop his videos back in the Siege. And a few times since then. But those facts were not exactly to his taste, and therefore, he kept them filed at the back of his mind.

Now, however, his gaze would have cut holes in the screen and through anyone who might have been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end. His face was arranged in the same expression as the one he wore whilst decoding the Book. Though quite a few shades darker; figuratively speaking. And the numbers stared back at him, just as they had done barely five hours ago. Obviously, now they were one short in the millions column. Minus one million plus dollar sign equals a paranoid Fowl. And not without good reason. It buzzed insistently in his cranium, obstructing his thoughts with the childish refusal to believe partly because that part of him was too arrogant to admit that someone had beaten him at what he believe he did best, if not in this world, certainly in the next. It was impossible. Though once again, obviously, that fact was to be nulled and void as the balance of his bank account blinked at him, innocently one million dollars short. This was simply unacceptable.

He had, at two o'clock been woken by the alert to find a trigger had been set off by a breach in the five meters worth of solid steel protection that inhabited the perimeters of a section of the Fowl fortune. This was, of course, the modernized version of an off-shore account. In fact, it was probably so off-shore, it was somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Literally, though, was not out of the question.

Then again, what had set off the trigger was the point worth investigating. Or rather, who. Modern artificial intelligences were simply not advanced enough to out-think him. It was simply impossible. In theory.

Artemis navigated through the system. He would have to modify a few details, to say the least. But that was not the point that was bothering him at the moment- the point was who. He supposed that it was expected that sometime, someone would make an attempt to hack his account. But even though the measures had been put into place, the thought of success…

It had been too preposterous to be put into words. And that was his mistake- he had no one but himself to blame.

They had moved too swiftly for the system to net them. And when he had put his hands to the keyboard, they were taking their leave, quickly, deftly, and mockingly. Simply diverting another account to fill up the million US would not be enough, and this had only partly to do with his pride. Artemis continued to gaze morbidly at the unchanging statistics. Having liquidated most of his criminal activities, incidences such as these had not unearthed themselves with the regularity they once did. And even then, the positions of hacker and victim were reversed. And being the victim did not suit him very well.

Though the successful breach of his codes had the effect of a rather unpleasant surprise, this was not enough to block constructive thoughts in his mind. Whilst being more than a little annoyed, Artemis had drawn several conclusions on the matter. And the more he thought about them, the brighter his eyes seemed to grow, like a cat's in the darkness, waiting to pounce on its prey.

First of all, there was the matter of the one million themselves. Artemis steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. One million. Why one? Why go to the trouble (in fact, a lot of trouble) to back his account and take one million? If they were to settle some financial grudge against him, they would not doubt bankrupt him. Or at least make a reasonable attempt. But one million? It was as if the diversion had been just that. A diversion of something far more important. Yet, he had already swept around everything and they were still all unchanged; the results coming up clean.

Silence reverberated around the study.

Curious.

It was perhaps difficult to narrow the list of possible suspects. Artemis smirked to himself. No matter what his father said, some people simply deserved to be stolen from. He stood by that motto then, and he stood by it now. In any case, he had to find a way to remedy his father's reckless donations, which words and morals could not. And perhaps someone wasn't too pleased with his efforts. He couldn't blame them. For your multi-billion dollar business to collapse must be quite a traumatic experience, and now they wanted to settle the score. Amazing they had know it was him in the first place- and more amazing still was the fact they had removed one million.

Artemis frowned in thought.

It simply did not make sense. There must be another motive, and he only had to find it.

However, first things first. Artemis' proceeded to 'fix' the balance of the currency. Now he had an excuse, his conscience could not lecture about the injustice of this action. This thought cheered him up for a moment- then that moment passed and the individual sitting in front of the desk could be described as quite cheerless. Foaly must never find out about this. He was not in the mood to be gloated at. Then again, he never was and the circumstances rarely called for it, though when it did, the LEP consultant made the most of his victory. The other person who must remain in ignorance was his Father. There was no particular reason for this, other than awkward, unneeded questions and pride, again. He could not admit this to anyone except perhaps Butler. But that was only due to the fact that the manservant was a part of his revolving plan- and Juliet- but that was unimportant at this stage. Pride. It was such an inconvenience, a trait which had developed along with his other emotions. He scowled faintly. Mental discipline must not slack, even with all possible distractions.

The next step was locating the wretched hacker. This was more complicated then one would think. Simply locating the offender was not enough in this situation. It was vital that their identity could be unearthed. He actually needed to know where they lived and other details which could usually be ignored. And now, there was a slightly pessimistic foreshadow that this could not be achieved, residing in that dark corner at the back of his head. Fortunately, determination did not rust with age.

It surprised him somewhat that it took less than an hour to pinpoint the thumbprint of the hacker. From then on, it was a simple matter to feed the information into the search and the cross-referencing. And while the process took place, he couldn't help doubting once again. Perhaps it was paranoia…but he had never been wrong with such instincts before. However, instincts alone were not enough. He would wait until the referencing yielded results.

The print had been vague- an echo- but clear enough for the computer to work on. He watched as the area highlighted on the 3D globe shrank with each reference inserted. He had blacked out the windows so it glowed clearly against he shadows of the surrounding furniture. Asia, China, Korea, Russia. It centered on that point and the yellow line retracted from the Southern China Seas, Vietnam and the Philippines, jumping greater distances as the search narrowed down. The AI dithered at this point for perhaps a full five seconds, then it excluded South East mainland China altogether and the image of the globe disappeared to be replaced by an enlargement of the four main islands.

Artemis narrowed his eyes warily and tapped a key. The hologram began another, comparatively slow cross-referencing. The electronic prints were so close together, it was a near-complete mass of yellow. Two strokes of the pad brought the image into a clearer ratio, as the system continued to search. The entire procedure had taken more than ten minutes and counting. Artemis glowered, though the expression was barely visible. More alterations.

At his moment, he was distracted from renovations to the hologram by a beep from the computer. All prints inside the highlighted area were pulsing yellow- enlarged; there were the total of 78 locations. The AI had not been able to go on from this point, as the thumbprint had been insufficient to give its unique identity. And there was always the possibility that the hacker could have abandoned the computer somewhere, or moved it to another location. But this was a risk that could not be helped. And if his suspicions were correct, they would not do that.

Artemis considered the dilemma for several minutes, brain ticking over each option. He could not afford to spend two days searching for this individual. In any case, they were no doubt a pawn in a much more complex game. It was the person or persons behind them that would take the rest of the scheme. At this particular moment, Artemis had an annoying lack of hypothesis for what these could be, yet not so ignorant so that he was on the back foot. Or, he thought musingly, that was what it was supposed to seem. No plan or guess could be guaranteed- though one did try.

He paused thoughtfully, finger hovering above the virtual keys of the projection. It lasted for barely a minute.

Footsteps and voices approaching from the landing. He held back a sigh and closed the hologram, opening up the tinted windows. For a moment, sunlight stung his eyes, and the crystal that was the projector dulled with an inaudible hum- then his Mother's voice called from the other side of the door, her tone anxious. He glared once at the grounds outside and re-arranged his expression. Whatever happened to privacy? Angeline had never really gotten over the fact that her son was now an adult and taller than she was. This entitled independence surely.

"Arty, Butler said that you were unwell- are you alright, darling? Can I come in?"

His eyes found the ceiling. Obviously not. "Yes, Mother. Come in."

Ironic that sabotage could wait while one's parents could not. Artemis glanced at his wrist-watch. An hour. He could spare an hour.

:i:

Author's Note: Please note that I am not copying settings of any kind from TLC-and that developments in TLC are not included in this plot. If you are in doubt as you read on, this is a re-write and has been up on the net since February. Previous readers can verify. Please do not flame about that. Thanks.

-Also, I'm changing a few things which means I've come back and re-edited-this-rewrite-chapter and cut out the next one, which I'm going to re-write (of the re-write).

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