A quick note about pronounciation: "Ph" is usually pronounced like an "f" and in Canada the word "route" is pronounced "root".

Thank you, Ilex-ferox! (And aren't you breaking your beta-reviewing-code?)

January 9th, 2011, The Doyle Estate, Edinburgh, Scotland

Thwack.

'Ow.'

Snap.

'Ouch!'

Twok.

'God! Bloody he-'

'Artemis, would you shut up?' Holly hissed, pulling up short in front of the suffering boy and glaring at him for all she was worth. Not that he could tell, of course. That she was glaring or that she had stopped walking.

'I'm trying, it's just that – oof!' Artemis' excuse was cut off as he walked straight into the elf's back.

'Watch it! Frond, I can't turn my back on you for a second!' Holly grumbled, her mouth full of damp grass.

'You should have warned me! How was I to know you'd stopped? You're the one with night-vision, not me. And, for that matter –' Interrupted once again, Artemis glared down in the general direction of the hand covering his mouth.

'Shh.'

There came the sound of voices growing louder and suddenly a torch beam swung through the leaves above them, momentarily blinding Holly's sensitive eyes.

'See anything?'

'Nah, les'go. Back towards the lake, yeah?'

The response was indistinct but the light turned away from them. Artemis and Holly lay frozen, listening to the sounds of footsteps dying away.

'Right,' whispered Artemis, more softly than before, 'let's try to be quiet then, shall we?'

Holly snorted, half amused, half annoyed. 'Sure, if you feel up to it.'

'The branches kept hitting me,' Artemis defended himself at last.

'Poor Mud Baby,' Holly sighed. But, apparently, she felt at least a little sympathetic for she took his hand in hers before leading them deeper into the undergrowth.

When the Captain had called him with the change of plans, Mulch had been in the middle of checking his messages. Between adverts for the cheapest satellite TV in Britain and an all-new weight-loss regime, there was a message from one "Pho Li N. Route". Frowning, Mulch opened it. Like the sun, comprehension dawned all too quickly.

"CONVICT! (his mobile's speaker crackled ominously) If anything happens to my officer you are mincemeat! And I mean MINCED. You'll be begging for goblin cellmates after I get through with you! That stint you did after the Texas auction will be nothing on it. Do I make myself clear, Convict?"

'No,' Mulch muttered, rolling his eyes, 'could you elaborate a little more, please, Julius?'

"Apparently you can reach us at the number 1-250-388-4242. It's one of Foaly's human-business cover jobbies. Leave a message. By which I mean: if there isn't a message in that inbox by midnight, I will personally feed you to trolls. Finger by finger. Hair by hair. Got it, Convict? Good."

The thing was, Mulch thought to himself after Holly hung up, it was all a matter of comparison. Holly thought she was tough but, for pure abrasiveness, she was as sweet as a kitten compared to her Commander.

January 9th, 2011, Just Outide the Doyle Estate, Edinburgh, Scotland

A frantic Butler greeted Artemis and Holly as they pushed themselves through what Holly had sworn was a thin patch in the hedge. As he stood, gasping, in the lane, Artemis had serious doubts about that.

He took one look at their scratched, muddy and generally unkempt state and, before either of them could manage more than 'hello', had unceremoniously grabbed them both by their collars, shoved them into the backseat of the car, and slammed the door behind them. He landed in the driver's seat with such ferocity that the whole car groaned under the impact. A double click was heard and Artemis and Holly automatically looked to their doors.

'Did you just child-lock us in?' Holly asked in disbelief.

'You bet your badge I did, Short. Do you know how worried I was? Mulch got here twenty minutes ago!' The distraught Eurasian jerked his chin at the dwarf in the passenger seat. Mulch waggled his fingers cheerily at the bedraggled pair.

'Well, we did have to take a much more circuitous rou-'

'Artemis, be quiet.' Ignoring his affronted charge, Butler glared at Holly in the rear view mirror, 'This is not what I call "looked after", Holly Short.'

'Why is he acting like this is my fault?' Holly turned to Artemis, 'I seem to recall this was all your idea.'

Artemis shrugged. 'Out of the two of us, you're the one with the overdeveloped sense of guilt.'

'Not about scuffing up a few of your clothes, I haven't.'

'He's bleeding!' Butler interjected.

'I am?'

'You are?'

The pair in the back seat turned to eye each other.

'Oh yes, right there.' Holly reached up, smoothing her thumb over a scratch above Artemis' left eyebrow, trailing blue sparks behind her. 'See? Good as new, Butler. He didn't even feel it.'

'Artemis doesn't feel a lot of things,' Butler harrumphed. But his initial panic was over, leaving him only mildly exasperated.

'See what I mean? It's character-building!' Holly smiled.

'I'll give you character-building, Holly Short,' the man grumbled with just the barest hint of a smile.

'I've got a bit of something character-building for you, actually, Holly,' Mulch piped up from the passenger seat. 'In the form of a tomato with a fungus cigar addiction and a pair of lungs like Pavoratti.'

'Root? He's here?' Holly perked up.

'Not at all, or he'd be doing you in for indirectly referring to him as a tomato. But he did leave a message. Here, let me put it on speaker phone.' He gave the volume dial a crank to the right.

'No!' said Artemis and Holly simultaneously, but by then the voice of Julius Root could be heard all the way to Edinburgh.

As the message ended, Artemis unpeeled his hands from his ears, eyes watering. 'Well,' he said at length, 'at least you know he cares.'

Holly shook her head, pointy ears visibly drooping. 'That'll be nothing to how much he'll care when he finds out you're back in the game.'

January 9th, 2011, Edinburgh Airport, Edinburgh, Scotland

'Well, lady and gents,' Mulch spoke as they come to a halt in the airport parking lot, 'this has all been a real gas, let me tell you, but I'm thinking, if you guys don't need my expertise anymore, perhaps you wouldn't mind dropping me off at home on your way back to Ireland?'

Butler snorted. 'Because Immingham is really on the way.'

'Hey,' Mulch shrugged, 'what's a little petrol between friends?'

'At today's prices?' Butler asked rhetorically.

'I'll take that as a yes, then, shall I?'

'By all means,' Butler replied, none too reassuringly, as he got out of the car.

In the back seat, Artemis and Holly shared an exasperated look. One which quickly changed to horror when they tried to open their doors.

'Wait! Butler!'

January 10th, 2011, Immingham, South Humberside, England

They parked in an open field behind Mulch's decrepit house. Even in the dark Artemis could see that the house seemed to have lurched drunkenly to the left one night and never quite managed to right itself. Coupled with a roof so near collapse, the Irish teen didn't see how Mulch kept the building inspectors away. The outside had nothing on the interior, however.

'Gives a whole new meaning to the concept of "rising damp",' Artemis murmured to Butler as Mulch lead them into the living room. The bodyguard smothered a snort.

Used to the mouldy interior, Holly got straight down to business. Gingerly balancing herself on the edge of one of his few seats, she turned to Mulch, hand outstretched. 'I need to borrow your phone,' she said.

'Why?' the dwarf raised a suspicious eyebrow.

'To cook with. To call Foaly, that's why.'

Artemis' attention drifted away from his posturing friends. His eye was caught by a painting, a Stubbs, he believed, hanging beside a grandfather clock. Tucked into the frame was a newspaper clipping. Narrowing his eyes, he approached the painting. The article was from the Washington Post, concerning a recent break-in at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Apparently a newly acquired piece of jewellery had vanished from its glass case, leaving the authorities flummoxed. The necklace fragment, featuring two stunning opals and exquisite gold-work had been purchased by the museum only four days prior to its theft and –

At this point Artemis stopped reading, turning his narrowed gaze to the clock next to him.

The wooden piece stuck out like a sore thumb in Mulch's high-tech grotto. It and the painting looked laughably out of place amidst the mould, the chrome and the tinted glass.

'Artemis!' Talking to Holly, Mulch hadn't noticed Artemis' wandering eyes. 'Fowl, what are you – no, don't open that! It's nothing, it's just ...' Mulch trailed off as, from amidst a glittering pile of stolen jewels stashed inside the clock, Artemis deftly fished out another piece of Brísingamen.

Turning, he held it up for everyone to see. For a moment there was silence. Then,

'Mulch!' Holly turned on the dwarf and, in all likelihood, would probably have murdered him there and then, if Butler hadn't made a hasty grab at the back of her shirt. 'How could you? You two-timing, double-crossing, filthy little sneak! You're worse than Artemis!'

'I beg your pardon-' the teen began.

But Holly didn't really care just then. 'I swear, Diggums, I am going to kick you into next Tuesday! You'll be so sore the scorch marks from the Goblins in your cell will be a relief! I'll – would you put me down, Butler?'

'Just trying to keep you from doing something you'll regret later,' said Butler apologetically, without slackening his grip. 'Well - much, much later.'

The elf growled, teeth bared. Artemis wondered how someone so small could be so very, very terrifying.

'Holly, now, please, don't get over-excited.' Mulch put on his best car-salesman grin. 'I was just saving this as a ... a surprise, yeah. I was going to tell you, honest. Besides, I stole it from the Met., not the Haven museum. I would never frame you for one of my crimes.'

'That's true,' agreed Artemis, 'Mulch is much too proud of his felonies to let someone else take the credit like that.'

'Credit?' snorted Holly. 'Blame, more like.'

'I didn't even know you were involved until you arrived in the post.' Mulch put up his hands, 'honest!'

After a minute more of struggling, she sighed. 'Okay, Butler, you can put me down now.'

Hesitantly, he did. As soon as his hand left her shirt, however, she pounced, delivering a solid punch to Mulch's unsuspecting jaw.

Butler and Artemis winced. Holly dusted her hands together, looking terribly pleased with herself.

'Ohhh, d'Ah-vit, Horreh, ah bih mah tung,' Mulch clutched his chin, eyes watering.

'Good!' replied Holly viciously.

Artemis cleared his throat, 'I know it's difficult but, if we can bear to tear our minds away from all this excitement for just a moment, I would like to point out that we are now in possession, however accidentally, of three quarters of Brísingamen. And yet it remains to be discovered why our elusive thief, or thieves, decided to break the necklace apart. Or how this piece came to be where it was before Mulch - er – liberated it.'

'Da hingsh ah do fah you, Horreh,' Mulch shook his hairy head. 'Buh thash grahihude fah you. Kish hese daysh, honeshly.'

Holly cracked her knuckles expressively. Mulch shut up and went back to nursing his jaw.

'If you don't mind, Mulch, I'm afraid we'll trespass on your hospitality a moment longer. I need to use a computer. I assume you do have an internet connection?'

'Ah coursh. Do ah looh lie a shavage to 'oo?'

Artemis elected not to answer that as he followed the dwarf to the den.

Two hours later, Artemis emerged from the den talking on his mobile.

'Yes, thank you. Yes, I will. Thank you for your help. Yes, good day.' Snapping the phone shut, he tried, and failed, not to look smug.

'I'm afraid we're back off to London,' he told his expectant audience.

'Why?' Holly crosses all her limbs to underline just how stubborn she was preparing to be.

'Why? Why? My dear Captain, if I told you why, that would ruin my carefully timed reveal later on.'

'My heart bleeds for you, it really does,' Holly dead-panned. 'Why?'

Artemis sighed, rolling his eyes up, as though to make sure the heavens were making note of his compliance. 'Because I think it's time that we had a little chat with the infamous Loki. I'm sure you'll never guess who The Metropolitan Museum of Art bought its fragment of Brísingamen from.'

'Loki.'

'In one.'

'So, what you're saying,' Butler frowned, 'is that if Loki got his hands on one of the pieces, he must know the original thief.'

'Nearly.' Artemis grinned with all his teeth. 'What I'm saying is that he is the original thief.'