Book Two: The Arctic Incident
Saint Bartleby's School for Young Gentlemen
13 months later
Butler had been in Artemis Fowl's service since the moment of the boy's birth. He had spent the first night of his charge's life standing guard on the Sisters of Mercy maternity ward. The events were repeated when Alexander was born some four years later—only he stood guard over Fowl Manor and it lacked the formality. For over a decade, Butler had been teacher, mentor, and protector to the young heirs. He'd never been separated from either boy for more than a week, until now. It shouldn't bother him, he knew that. A bodyguard should never become emotionally attached to his charge, official or otherwise: it affects his judgment. But in his private moments, Butler couldn't help thinking of the Fowl boys as the younger brothers he never had.
Butler parked the Bentley Arnage Red Label on the College Avenue. If anything, the Eurasian manservant had bulked up since midterm. With both boys in boarding school, he was spending a lot more time in the gym. Truth be told, Butler was bored pumping iron, but the college authorities absolutely refused to allow him a bunk in Artemis's room—or even a small closet space halfway between his and Alex's. And when the gardener had discovered the bodyguard's hideout just off the seventeenth green, they had banned him from the school grounds altogether.
Artemis slipped through the school's gate, Dr. Po's comments still in his thoughts.
"Problems, sir?" Butler asked, noticing his employer's sour expression.
Artemis ducked into the Bentley's wine-colored leather interior, selecting a bottler of still water from the bar.
"Hardly, Butler. Just another quack spouting psycho-babble."
Butler kept his voice level. "Should I have a word with him?"
"Never mind him now. What news of the Fowl Star?"
"We got an e-mail at the manor this morning. It's an MPG."
Artemis scowled. He could not access MPG video files on his mobile phone.
Butler pulled a portable computer from the glove compartment.
"I thought you might be anxious to see the file, so I downloaded it onto this."
He passed the computer over his shoulder. Artemis activated the compact machine, folding out the flat color screen. At first he thought the battery was dead, then he realized he was looking at a field of snow. White on white, with only the faintest shadows to indicate dips and drumlins.
Artemis felt the uneasiness rolling in his gut. Funny how such an innocent image could be so foreboding.
The camera panned upward, revealing a dull twilight sky. Then a black hunched object in the distance. A rhythmic crunching issued through the compact speakers as the cameraman advanced through the snow. The object grew clearer. It was a man sitting on, no, tied to, a chair. The ice clinked in Artemis's glass. His hands were shaking.
Then man was dressed in the rags of a once fine suit. Scars branded the prisoner's face like lightning bolts, and one leg appeared to be missing. It was difficult to tell. Artemis's breath was jumpy now, like a marathon runner's.
There was a sign around the man's neck. Cardboard and twine. On the sign was scrawled in thick black letters: Zdravstvutye syn. The camera zoomed in on the message for several seconds, then went blank.
"Is that all?"
Butler nodded. "Just the man, and the sign. That's it."
"Zdravstvutye syn," muttered Artemis, his accent flawless. Since his father's disappearance, he had been teaching himself the language.
"Should I translate for you?" asked Butler, also a Russian speaker. His accent, however, was not quite so sophisticated. He had picked it up during a five-year stint with an espionage unit in the late eighties.
"No, I know what it means," replied his young employer. "Zdravstvutye syn: Hello, son."
Butler pulled the Bentley onto the divided highway. No one spoke for several minutes. Eventually Butler had to ask.
"Do you think it's him, Artemis? Could that man be your father?"
Artemis rewound the MPG, freezing it on the mysterious man's face. He touched the display, sending rainbow distortions across the screen.
"I think so, Butler. But the picture quality is too poor. I can't be certain."
Butler understood the emotions battering his young charge. He, too, had lost someone aboard the Fowl Star. His uncle, the major, had been assigned to Artemis's father on that fateful trip. Unfortunately, the major's body had turned up in the Tchersky morgue.
Artemis regained his composure. "I must pursue this, Butler."
"You know what's coming next, of course?"
"Yes. A ransom demand. This is merely the teaser, to get my attention. I need to cash in some of the People's gold. Contact Lars in Zurich, immediately."
Butler accelerated into the fast lane.
"Master Artemis, I have had some experience in these matters."
Artemis did not interrupt. Butler's career before his current charge's birth had been varied, to say the least.
"The pattern with kidnappers is to eliminate all witnesses. Then they will generally try to eliminate each other, to avoid splitting the ransom."
"Your point being?"
"My point being that paying a ransom in no way guarantees you father's safety. If indeed that man is your father. It is quite possible that the kidnappers will take your money and kill all of us."
Artemis studied the camera screen. "You're right, of course. I will have to devise a plan."
With his mind free of the emotional blinders the video had brought on, Artemis noticed for the first time a face reflected on the front windshield.
"What is Alex doing here?" he asked. The ten-year-old was lying in the Bentley's front seat, fast asleep and dressed in dark pants that were worn out in the knees and a simple, pastel blue t-shirt.
"I picked him up yesterday, seems his nightmares have flared up again."
Artemis sighed sadly. His little brother had been having all sorts of problems sleeping ever since their father disappeared.
"Has he seen the video?" he asked worriedly.
"No," Butler answered. "But he refused to stay at the Manor, I figured he'd fall asleep on the way over and I could just put him back to bed."
Artemis nodded. High speeds made Alex drowsy, he could never stay awake more than a few minutes on long car rides. Plus he was stubborn—if Alex made up his mind to come with the manservant, the best option would be to humor him until he drifted off.
He remembered the first few weeks after their father went missing. Alex put up a bigger fight and better argument to have him found than either of them thought possible—and he wasn't even seven. But in the last couple years, Artemis had to wonder how much his brother still believed their father was alive. The younger boy didn't fight the doubtful statistics and enormous odds very much these days, he left that to his older brother. While two years earlier he surpassed him in that department.
Alex wasn't close to their father. He'd always know that. Perhaps that was why he could look at their situation with a clearer head, and know when it was time to give up. But why hadn't he? The answer: regardless of what he himself believed, Alex believed in his brother.
The thought made the older boy all the more determined to bring their father home.
Butler pulled off the road, opening the estate gates by a remote control. He glanced back at his employer's thoughtful face and down to his brother's sleeping one. Sometimes he thought that in spite of all his contacts, informants, and employees, if Artemis Fowl were an only child he'd be the loneliest boy on the planet.
"We could bring a couple of those fairy blasters," he suggested.
Artemis nodded. "Good idea, but remove the nuclear batteries and put them in a bag with some old games and books. We can pretend they're toys if we're captured."
"Toys I presume you're going to try to pass off as mine."
Artemis and Butler started. While Alex had always been a sound sleeper, it'd only been recently that he'd gotten better at feigning sleep.
Artemis sighed. There went their plan to leave his brother at home.
"How long have you been awake?" he said.
"Coupla minutes." The younger boy replied simply. It was clear he'd been awakened a bit early, he was bleary-eyed and his speech was slightly slurred.
The Bentley Red Tag crunched up the driveway, activating the ground's security lights. Butler put the car in park and undid his seat belt, stepping lithely from the Bentley.
"You need anything special, Artemis?"
Artemis nodded. "Grab some caviar from the kitchen. You wouldn't believe the muck they feed us in Bartleby's for ten thousand a semester."
"And my Copter," Alex piqued.
Butler smiled fondly at both statements. A teenager asking for caviar. He'd never get used to it. The younger boy's request, however, he'd expected. At Alex's ninth birthday, Artemis had gotten him a Kyosho RC Caliber 30 ARF Helicopter to make up for inadvertently getting him involved in the LEP's siege on Fowl Manor—regardless as to the fact that Alex had passed it off as a dream. The toy quickly became the boy's most prized possession. He loved it so much that he didn't even notice when his brother failed to serve the promised champagne at his more recent birthday.
As the bodyguard closed the door, Artemis leaned forward to address his brother.
"I don't suppose I can convince you to go back inside with Butler and stay home?"
"Nope," Alex replied, popping the p.
Artemis simply nodded and leaned back to compose an e-mail on his laptop
Dear Dr. Guiney,
Because of your counselor's tactless interrogation of my little Arty, I have taken him out of school for a course of therapy sessions with real professionals in Mont Gaspard Clinic in Switzerland. I am considering legal action. Do not attempt to contact me, as that would only serve to irritate me further, and when irritated I generally call my attorneys.
Sincerely,
Angeline Fowl
When he looked back up, sure enough, Alex had fallen back asleep. It would be nice to let Alex watch Principal Guiney's expression when he read the electronic letter. It may even make up for leaving him behind. Unfortunately the button camera he'd planted in the headmaster's office could only be accessed within a one-mile radius.
Butler opened the driver's door, and after a moment slipped into the seat.
Artemis folded the phone into its wallet.
"Captain Short, I presume. Why don't you stop vibrating, and settle into the visible spectrum?"
Holly speckled into view. There was a gleaming gun in her hand.
"Really, Holly, is that necessary?"
Holly snorted. "Well, let's see. Kidnapping, actual bodily harm, extortion, conspiracy to commit murder. I'd say it's necessary."
"Please, Captain Short," smiled Artemis. "I was young and selfish. Believe it or not, I do harbor some doubts over that particular venture."
"Not enough doubts to return the gold?"
"No," admitted Artemis. "Not quite."
"How did you know I was here?"
Artemis steepled his fingers. "There were several clues. One, Butler did not conduct his usual bomb check under the car. Two, he returned without the items he went to fetch. Three, the door was open for several seconds, something no good security man would permit, especially not with one of his charges in the front seat. And four, I detected a slight haze as you entered the vehicle. Elementary, really."
Holly scowled. "Observant little Mud Boy, aren't you?"
"I try. Now, Captain Short, if you would be so kind as to tell me why you are here."
"As if you don't know."
Artemis thought for a moment. "Interesting. I would guess that something has happened. Obviously something that I am being held responsible for." He raised an eyebrow fractionally. An intense expression of emotion for Artemis Fowl—or, as Alex would say, a 'crack in the mask'. "There are humans trading with the People."
"Very impressive," said Holly. "Or it would be, if we didn't both know that you're behind it. And if we can't get the truth out of you, I'm sure your computer files will prove most revealing."
Artemis closed the laptop's lid. "Captain. I realize there is no love lost between us, but I don't have time for this now. It is imperative that you give me a few days to sort out my affairs."
"No can do, Fowl. There are a few people underground would like a word."
Artemis shrugged. "I suppose, after what I did, I can't really expect any consideration."
"That's right. You can't."
"Well then," sighed Artemis. "I don't suppose I have a choice."
Holly smiled. "That's right, Fowl, you don't."
"Shall we go?" Artemis's tone was meek, but his brain was sparking with ideas. Maybe cooperating with the fairies wasn't such a bad idea. They had certain abilities, after all. On the downside, it looked like Alex was tagging along whether he liked it or not.
"Why not?" Holly turned to Butler. "Drive south. Stay on the back roads."
"Tara, I presume. I've often wondered where exactly the entrance to E1 was."
"Keep wondering, Mud Boy," muttered Holly. "Now sleep. All this deduction is wearing me out."