All the computers were on. Papers were everywhere, strewn across the floor and desks. There were multiple phones, cellular and speaker plugged in, waiting for calls. CNN, Fox, BBC, and a live camera feed from Dublin International Airport were on the big screen on the large wall. The cameras were directed toward all gates to America and the UK, London and New York especially. The room's occupant had hacked on to the airport's computer system in no time, piggy backing the system without a trace.
Emails were sent to all of Artemis' useful informants within the city. Bounty hunters, police officers manning certain streets, computer hackers, people who worked in media, and anyone who worked in public transport, including airport personnel.
But nobody knows.
There are seven tickets for various countries, all under her name. At least fifteen set to America, more under aliases. But they're all set for different times. He has people watching for her at every gate, but she isn't on any terminals. But she has to be somewhere. Maybe not at the airport, but somewhere in the city. Unless she plans to swim across the ocean or channel, she will have to step into that building, and when she does he will be there, waiting. He will find her.
He is named after the greatest hunter known; Artemis, the Greek goddess, mistaken to be the goddess of the moon. She was the hunter; she was the patron of the hunt, what was then a man's sport. The name never applied to him so much. He earned it many years ago, he's living up to it now. She is out there. He has to find her.
He will find her. It's just a matter of time.
If she manages to leave the country, he would fail himself and the People. He would fail her.
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The brown package that came up to the study via dumbwaiter had a note from Butler attached reading :This was left at the front gate, must have been hand delivered. I checked it myself, it's not dangerous, though the contents are surprising. –Butler
It was addressed to "A. Fowl II, Fowl Manor, Study" in a familiar handwriting. Scrawled, sweeping, curved with quick gestures, it was hers. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, it was Tara's. Or Sophia's. She was playing with him, telling him she knew exactly where he was. Telling him she knew he was looking. Teasing him. She had been practically at the Manor, outside the gate, looking down the long drive. She could probably see the window to the room where he sat.
Grabbing a pair of scissors he sliced through the clear plastic tape and pushed away the tissue paper she'd jammed inside. Part of him worried, Butler did scan the box, yes, but what if she was that pissed off to kill him? Or inflict bodily harm in any manner?
Finally he pulled out a sparking yellow topaz. The demon's topaz. "But why?"
His attention is short. A white envelop nestled in the bottom with his name on it catches his eye. The paper bears no unusual markings or stains. It looks safe and perfectly normal. Hand shaking, scared half to death that it is a suicide note, a farewell, Artemis carefully opens it.
Why else would she give it up?
His question was answered promptly.
My dearest Artemis:
I am so sorry. Believe me when I say I never meant to cause you any pain. Take the bloody rock, it's enough trouble, I'm sure. Stop looking for me. You'll never find anything you'd want. Ciao.
Yours,
Sophia
There was no doubt that it was the real topaz. Yellow, glittering, polished; it was the demon's stone.
All he had to do now find Sophia. There was little to go on.
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Hotels were put under surveillance. A few of their favorite place too. Museums, galleries, stores, historic sites, parks, spots by the river, dinning facilities. Constant reports, over 100 directly hired people looking. A couple hundred more after the newsreel.
Artemis had been positively livid to see the private information on TV. They had no clue as to who had made the calls, told the media. It certainly wasn't wither of the Butlers, but that didn't rule out the other hired help. Since Juliet had taken over the body guarding job, letting Butler work part time, there was little time for her to do normal chores. They'd had to hire three maids, who mainly cleaned and were rarely seen, a cook, and someone to help the groundskeeper that had been working in the Manor since before Artemis Sr.'s day. Nobody particularly trusted these people, save the grounds man. It could have been anyone of them. You didn't know who was a crazy these days, with human rights, and unreliable background checks.
Tara could have even done it herself as a cruel joke, but it was not likely. Artemis would guess she was even more outraged than he became at the news.
Surely she wouldn't think that he had done it? She knew him better than that. No, she couldn't. It wasn't like him to blunder plans in such a way. Besides, such public interference wouldn't be helpful to either of them; the dangerous people looking put her at risk, and she would have to just run all the more harder.
So far there had been over 1,500 calls. A few were demanding ransom, some claiming to have spotted her in a crowd (How, Artemis wondered, could she be at the docks then at the mid-city area and the on the west-bond road by the river all within five minutes of each other?), a couple claimed corpses, some were kindly folks wanting to actually help, more were from "Tara" giving directions to where she could be picked up, a number came from obnoxious teens teasing him that "his girl" ran away. "Maaan-you must be bad!"
It was tempting to write down their names and send Butler out with a cricket bat, rope and flashlight to terrorize the citizens…but he was needed elsewhere. Later he would let the manservant have some fun and set him on the city.
Luckily, Artemis Sr. and Angeline were still in France, and probably wouldn't get such trifling news. If they had, it wouldn't be but a few hours before they were on the doorstep again and they certainly would've called before to confirming the report. No need to check out of the resort if it was false media. Maybe he could get her back before they returned. Maybe she'd give up running and come home. Maybe he wouldn't have to…Maybe she'd be back to normal by the time his parents returned. Maybe he could tell his parents the truth. Maybe she'd wear the ring. Maybe the wipe would be simple.
Speaking of which, he had no idea of how she would react to the mind wipe. He, Butler and Juliet did fairly well adjusting. But would she fare the same? And, more importantly, would she stay under? Artemis' case was a first, the only one known to have revived to his former memory; even then it was with an influence. Her intellect, while not near his, could easily be enough to break the walls like he himself had. It was unlikely, but still an existent threat. What was a solution…he only had a few days to plan it out.
The phone rang, shrill and unpleasent. Rubbing his temple, Artemis answered, putting on the air of one who was calm and expectant.
"Yes?"
Whoever it was had already gone through Butler, there was no need for a warm greeting. Not that the manservant had given any.
"Hey Boss, this is Eighty-eight by the Slam, I'm checking in to report. She's been in."
Artemis sat up from his slump, elbows on the desk, blank pad of paper and a detailed map of the city before him. A pencil rested on the pad, sharpened to a perfect point in anticipation of news. In front of the young man, on the wall-size flat screen computer-media center a moving map with animated pushpins marked the destinations and paths. He gazed at it, predicting the new position.
"And?"
"It was before I came in, but the guy at the bar says she ordered to go and had a drink. Didn't say much. Looked sad."
"Are you sure it was her?"
"Positive. She was wearin' a wig, though. Black, spiky thing. But it was her."
"When? Did he say?"
"Ah…round a hour 'go."
"Thank you, Eighty-eight. Please alert your area counter parts. Great eyes."
"Thanks Master Fowl."
"Click"
So she was still in the city. Good. That was most defiantly good. But where? A hotel? And for how much long was she staying.
He looked at the clock on his desk, a golden masterpiece given to him by his father when he was nine years of age and had recived his very own office. He recalled walking in early one morning to find Tara sitting on his desk, polishing the clock, chatting away with Juliet, who was at the time, dusting bookshelves. Her face bloomed when she saw him. After a hug and peck she inquired after the gift, then set it gently back on the desk after the story, saying it sounded like a nice tradition. That was when he'd realized they honestly had a future together.
10:13 a.m. Which would make it near 9:00 when she came in to Slam. A late breakfast. What a usual thing for her. He needed one himself, come to think of it.
For the next three hours he made notes, watched footage, recived calls, and, at Butler's insistence, took a power nap. That did him a lot of good, as did the shower. The only way the manservant could convince him was by claiming the boy's fiancé would be grossed out by the sight of him. Three days of filth.
"It would also be seen as weakness. " Butler pointed out. "That you were so torn up over her…she could use that power…"
This was true. Artemis did not want to appear out of control. Anything but that. Still, he wanted to keep looking.
"But it could also be considerable amounts of time looking for her. Determination. Power in my hands." Artemis had argued.
"It will be weakness." Butler assured him. Tired and sick of smelling foul, the young man allowed himself to take an hour. Butler allowed a smug smiled and returned to the surveillance room.
Artemis was putting on his tie, a blue one Tara had bought him at a fair trade store, when Butler came back in, unannounced. He frowned into the mirror, annoyed. The manservant was making it habit nowadays. He'd have to fix that. It wouldn't be appropriate when he was married.
Butler was pale, stiff with shock. Whatever was the matter could wait, his master was still dressing. When he didn't move for a full minute the young man finally snapped. His nerves were still fragile.
"Well?" He demanded, tightening his tie. "What is it, Butler?" He smoothed the fabric and straighten it to a line.
"Artemis-" He sounded choked. Unusual for him, not many things bothered him enough to smother his façade. It must be serious indeed. Artemis gave him his full attention, mismatched eyes meeting Butler's own deep set black ones.
"You've got to see this."
""Words that shatter." The young man though, following his best friend to the study.
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Here we see Arty tracking Sophia. Not a difficult thing, as you can tell. It's the catching that is proving a challenge. He wants a unpublic scene, something dramatic. But he also wants it personal, so he'll wait for the last moment (i.e. when she's at the airport) or when he can predict her movement (is waiting for her somewhere) so he can be all arrogant and smirking. Why? Because that is what our Artemis does! And also because the muses told me.
I hope the movie comes out soon.
Please review, my darlings.
-Dania