Author's note: Sorry this update took so long. My internet is down. Also I'm building on a few things mentioned in book one, chapter one. Hopefully I'm not taking too much creative license. Don't forget to review.

Chapter 6: The Trouble with Trouble

Fowl Manor

Mrs. Angelina Fowl settled back in the chair and, after carefully looking over both of her shoulders, she turned on the laptop. She could hear her husband in the study, arguing with the detective agency he'd hired to track their son. Apparently Arty had slipped out of Ireland in the company of Butler and a considerable amount of luggage. She looked behind her again and opened her email.

Hello Mother,

I apologize for troubling you. I have decided to investigate a few investment opportunities in London. Butler is escorting me. I suppose Father has not yet come to his senses. We spotted several of his "detectives" on our way to the airport. I am not certain if he wished me to know that they were there or if he is simply out of practice when it comes to delegating espionage. Please inform him that I will not prevent Butler from breaking their fingers should they continue their harassment.

This is not the direction I wished this communiqué to proceed. It is snowing in the city and the Christmas displays are garish. There was a robotic nativity scene set up just outside the airport. Bale Loma has just premiered a new collection of Brazilian emeralds. I have found a few I think you will like. I apologize again for upsetting you.

Sincerely,

Artemis

She pressed her hand to her mouth. Something was definitely wrong. Her son was a talented writer, but this note, like the others, was short and almost awkward. Arty was lost. She could feel it. He was getting more lost every second. It wasn't fair.

She thought things would be alright. A year ago they had received a miracle. Timmy had come back to them, as if he had just fallen out of the sky. Arty hadn't seemed all that surprised. She knew somewhere deep down that he'd had something to do with it, just as she suspected he had something to do with her own recovery, but he refused to even hint at how he had managed. He would just smile faintly and vanish into his room or back to school, Butler trailing like a shadow. Arty was becoming a ghost in their lives. This wasn't how she'd expecting things to end up, trading one ghost for another.

She logged out and shut down the computer. Slowly she climbed out of the chair and made her way to the study, where her husband was stomping about. She pushed open the door.

"Arty sent me an Email. He says he's fine and he's offended that you're having him followed," she said.

Her husband looked at her with a faintly annoyed expression. "So I should simply let him go running off into lord knows what kind of danger with that ineffective bodyguard? Perhaps you should stop and think about that for a moment Angelina."

She felt her face coloring. "Perhaps you should think about the fact that Arty has been running off into danger since you got on that infernal cargo ship and got yourself blown into a coma for three years. It's been years since he has been subject to any sort of discipline outside of what he imposes on himself. I know a great deal of that is my fault, but we were not the most attentive parents even before that tragedy and you can not expect such an independent person to simply give that up now that we are ready to devote some attention to him!"

"What else am I supposed to do?" Artemis Fowl the first asked in frustration.

"Arty will come back when he's ready. I think we should be worrying about what we are going to say to him when he does. We barely know who he is anymore."

He husband frowned, forehead creasing the same way their son's did when he was deep in thought.

"I need to find out what he's been up to."

Angelina frowned. "He won't appreciate you digging into his activities anymore then he does you having him follows. Why don't you just ask him?"

"Do you honestly think he would tell me?"

She could only frown in response.

Forden Row, London

Artemis adjusted the camera in his bodyguard's tie.

"I don't see why you're bothering with those," Foaly said through the com connection, as Butler ran checks on the sound. "Why use mud technology when you have our best?"

"A backup is never a waste if the primaries are disabled," Butler pointed out.

Foaly sighed loudly.

Artemis brought up the live feed on his laptop. The footage was grainy in comparison to the iris camera Butler had borrowed off of Trouble. Trouble frowned. He didn't know why they were getting mud man germs all over his equipment if they were going to use their own. In fact he wondered why he had been dispatched to the surface at all. He was somewhat relieved they hadn't bothered to send an entire recon squad.

"This isn't going to work," Trouble said. "Foaly has already hacked their systems. Aside from a few unprofessional intra office emails and a bit of creativity with their tax exemptions, they aren't anymore suspicious then any other 'charitable' organization mud men run."

Trouble stared at Artemis intently, but the mud boy didn't respond. Trouble huffed and strode off. He didn't know what Holly saw in him. He wished he'd been sent to Ireland to look after Holly, instead of "looking out for the counsel's interests" in an icy industrial section of London. All Fairies hate the cold and daylight, and he was stuck surrounded by both in the back of an automobile that guzzled enough hydrocarbon fuel to melt the ice caps all by itself. Of course maybe he wouldn't be freezing his pointed ears off then.

"Ready?" Artemis asked his bodyguard.

Butler nodded and opened the door of the Humvee. Despite the carefully calibrated shocks, the vehicle tilted and resettled as the massive weight was removed. He has to be part troll, Trouble thought as he brought up the feed from Butler's eye in the corner of his own helmet screen. They watch Butler march down the sidewalk, climb the steps, and ring the bell. A gray haired woman in an expensive dress admitted him with a friendly wave.

"There appears to be a crucifix in the door frame," Artemis said.

Trouble played back the view of the entrance way. He nodded. "Looks like it's not a demon building after all."

"Not necessarily," Artemis said. "It may be there to keep out supernatural competition. Is passing through a sanctified door as bad for a Fairy as drinking Holy water?"

"I've never tried to pass through one, and as I'm still alive, I've never had a drink of Holy water," Trouble said. "Even if the door wasn't sanctified we couldn't go in without an invitation."

"You can't enter a human dwelling with out an invitation. We aren't dealing with humans," Artemis said.

"Even if that symbol was meant to keep us out," Trouble said. "We could get through the windows easily enough."

Artemis pressed the talk button on the micro-communicator in Butler's ear.

"Take a look at the window please."

The view changed. Every window had a little crucifix above it.

"How would they get in?" Trouble said, not wanting the smug teenager to be right.

"The roof or the subbasement," Artemis said. "Most likely underground access. There are sewer maintenance tunnels running under the building."

"Who put up the crosses then?"

"They can't all be demons," Artemis said.

"What about…ah!" Trouble cut himself off.

There was a human face pressed up against the window, barely a foot from his head. It was a teenage male in a school uniform. Behind him several other teenagers lounged, book bags hanging loosely from their shoulders. The one leaning on the window tapped the glass sharply as if he expected a response.

"You need not alarm yourself," Artemis said. "The windows are completely reflective, and the vehicle is soundproof."

Trouble was not entirely convinced, and remained silent until the teenagers had moved on. He was a bit surprised when they followed Butler's foot steps, and entered the building without knocking.

The Headquarters of the Arbor Society was a hulking seven story building in a heavily industrialized area of London. It was surrounded for the most part by garment factories, where recent immigrants to the UK, legal and other wise, worked long into the night to make ends meet. Many worked the whole night through. It was not that they did not get tired, or that they did not want to go home. It was more to do with the fact that a significant number of people who left the dim lights of the factories in quite hours before dawn never returned.

The outside of the building was decorated with many styles and colors of graffiti, most in spray paint, but some in a mysterious red hued sludge that no one wanted to look too closely at. The inside was much nicer, well cared for, if inexpensive office furniture, neatly dressed employees who expressed slightly exhausted affection for their jobs, posters advertising numerous projects to improve the environment. It all seemed very genuine.

Mrs. Hawthorne, a short well dressed woman with gray hair and a thick layer of pancake makeup, the society's current chairwoman, seemed very genuine as well. After giving prospective members a tour of the building, she invited them back to her office to go over their applications. Most of her guests expressed a great interest in either ecology or tax write-offs, but today's applicant seemed to be in a different class all together. His credit had checked out, but something was decidedly off about him.

"I like trees," the huge man said.

From behind her desk she nodded and flipped through the application again. She noted the form was similarly monotonous.

"Our organization requires a great deal of commitment," she said, putting her palms down on the huge oak desk that separated them. "Working with the Arden Foundation is about more then signing petitions and collecting litter every other Saturday. You have to be willing to put your heart, your very soul into the work. We can't accept anything less. The question I have for you is; are you willing to give that much?"

The huge man's expression did not change but something in his bearing suddenly tensed.

"I like trees," he repeated.

Mrs. Hawthorne sighed. "Perhaps you should give this a bit more thought and come back next week. Karen, at the desk at the end of the hall, will set up an appointment for you or you can call."

The man nodded and stood. The woman rose as well. She held out her hand and he shook it. As he let go the rough edge of one of her nails scratched a thin line on the back of his thumb. Blood welled up.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," she said, handing him a tissue.

"It's nothing," the man said.

He turned and left.

Artemis adjusted the feed on the button camera which Butler had planted on the back of the door as he left. The woman sank back into the chair behind the desk, and stuck her blood flecked finger in her mouth.

"Creepy," Trouble muttered.

"But not conclusive," Foaly's voice pointed out from the speakers. "Some of you mud men are just plain weird."

Artemis said nothing until Butler returned to the Humvee. As he waited he reordered the stills he'd captured from Butler's tour of the building. He examined several pictures of the teenagers who had entered the building.

"You know them?" Trouble asked.

"I recognize several from assorted 'family' exposés on CEO's in financial magazines I subscribe to. They're heirs to billions with access to world powers."

"Going to make friends?" Trouble asked.

Artemis snorted. "They're teenagers."

Trouble waited for a follow up. There was none. Artemis put away the pictures of people and brought up a random selection of blank walls and carpeting. He studied those until the door opened and Butler climbed in.

"Let me see your finger," Artemis said, as he pulled a small silver bottle out of his suit pocket. As he did this he brought up the feed from the camera Butler had planted in Hawthorne's office. She was still sucking on her finger and she had a strange glazed expression on her face. Butler started to turn towards his employer but Artemis pointed sharply toward the front wind shield. Butler turned his face away without comment. Artemis popped the top on bottle. Trouble crawled as far back in the car as he could get, back pressed against the rear window. The water looked as clear and clean as any but as it landed on Butler's injured thumb, smoke rose. From inside the building Mrs. Hawthorne shrieked. It was not a human sound. Her eyes took on a strange glowing quality and then the camera blew out.

"I think that was fairly probative," Artemis said, capping the bottle and returning it to his coat.

The Wilier Hotel, Room 348, London

Artemis sat on the couch drinking bottled water and watching the computer screen with a faintly scornful expression. Trouble sat next to him looking over the packaged snacks room service had left in the basket on the coffee table. He couldn't find a single item that didn't have either a lethal dose of sodium, or a nauseating amount of corn syrup. The teleconference had begun just after sunset and now midnight was closing in on them. Trouble was getting hungry to the point of desperation.

"We'll send in a Recon squad," Sool declared pompously, for the eighth time.

"That is still a bad idea," Artemis said. "You don't know enough about their abilities and they know they've been found out because of Butler. You need a LEPrecon team up here, but not to break into their stronghold. I suggest following all employees that leave by the unsanctified exits."

"We need to stop them now Fowl. Taking out their headquarters is the only way to do that," Sool said.

"We have yet to establish that this is their headquarters. An assault on this building may be more like a nail clipping then a decapitation."

"Fowl, you are not included when I say 'we'," Sool said.

Artemis rolled his eyes.

"Then you may wish to consider what could happen if you tip your hand at this stage. So far the demons only know that Butler suspects them. If they know the People have a lead on them, they could leave, or worse, set a trap."

"We need results!" Sool declared as the counsel members started to look over the plans Artemis had sent them.

"How can someone so old have so little patience?" the human asked.

"Major Kelp," Sool shouted. "You will lead a Recon mission to secure that building tonight, and I want prisoners for questioning."

Trouble frowned. They might be able to chase everyone out of the building with laser fire, but the demons had seemed more annoyed then injured by the neutrino blasts they'd used on them at the Ancient oak, and he didn't think much of Holly's hand to hand strategy with a buzz baton. He looked over at Artemis, who was watching Holly on the conference screen. Foaly had spliced her in despite Sool's objections.

"Sool," she said, "Think for a moment. We haven't dealt with demons in 10,000 years. Anything could happen-"

"A LEPrecon team can handle this. They are trained to handle this." Sool stated.

"They're trained to deal with out of control Fairies on the run and occasionally the mud men when they see too much," Holly said.

"And they're doing a great job of that," Artemis said, raising an eyebrow.

Sool ground his teeth.

"The demons at the Ancient oak retreated under fire," counsel member Vinyaya pointed out.

"They retreated, but Recon couldn't catch them," Holly said. "They couldn't even find a trace of them."

"That's enough Short!" Sool shouted. "You aren't even in the LEP any more. Major Kelp, I'll have a team prepped and on the surface by sunset tomorrow. Use the architectural specs Foaly has pulled and plan a room by room search. No screw-ups."

"Sool please!" Holly started to begged. "This is a mistake-"

But before she could really get groveling Fowl broke in.
"This will interfere with my own investigation," the human boy said. "Butler will be running ops tomorrow night. Your recon team would only be in the way."

"Stay out of this Fowl!" Sool shouted. "This is none of your business."

"I disagree. It looks like very profitable business, which is always my kind of business."

"Fowl-" Sool growled.

"Just when I think there are no more supernatural beings to blackmail for otherworldly wealth, this drops into my lap."

"Fowl don't you dare-"

"When morality closes a door, it opens a window. Speaking of windows, how does your recon team plan to get out of the building in a hurry if there are no mud men around to de-sanctify the windows? Even if you can enter the building because it isn't a human dwelling, you can't do anything about those blessed objects if you have to leave in a hurry."

"Recon can blow a hole in a wall if they have to."

"And no one is going to notice that I'm sure."

"Stay out of this Fowl!"

"I'd say 'make me' but I already know you don't have the resources. Additionally that phrase is cliché and extremely immature."

"Fowl, I'll have you mind wiped back to pre-school!"

"Perhaps," interrupted councilmember Vinyaya "A joint effort would be more prudent at this stage."

The other council members nodded. Sool glared at her, but she didn't seem bothered.

Trouble started going over the plans for the raid. He could hear Holly and Artemis still talking, long after the rest of the counsel had disconnected.

"-shouldn't beg," Fowl was saying angrily. "Sool's-"

"In charge, Artemis. He makes decisions that can get my friends killed. If sacrificing a bit of pride can make him change his mind, it's worth it."

"Butler will keep them safe Holly. We can do this."

"You should go home Artemis. It's not your fight."

"You are one of the few living beings on the planet I consider a friend, Holly. Your fights are my fights."

Trouble brought up another overview of the building, and tried to silence the little voice in his head that said maybe Fowl wasn't so bad after all.