Haven City, Police Plaza

Alex watched from the side as Root chewed out Holly. "Congratulations Captain, you managed to lose some LEP technology."

"Are the accusations part of your usual debriefing?" he whispered to Foaly.

"Only for Holly. We consider it practice for a tribunal." The centaur answered.

It made sense, Holly seemed prepared. "Not strictly my fault, sir. The human was mesmerized, and you ordered me not to leave the shuttle. I had no control over the situation."

"Good answer," Alex commented.

"Ten out of ten," Foaly ruled almost simultaneously. "Anyway the Safetynet has a self-destruct, like everything I send into the field."

"Quiet, civilian," snapped the Commander, but his relief drained the venom.

They were in a simple conference room, probably reserved for public use. Alex guessed the LEP weren't ready for them to see any of their real operations just yet.

Root jabbed an intercom button on his desk.

"Trouble, are you out there?"

"Yessir."

"Okay. Now listen, I want you to stand down the alert. Send the teams into the deep tunnels, see if we can't root you a few goblin gangs. There are still plenty of loose ends. Who's organizing the B'wa Kell for one, and for what reason?"

Alex considered himself a self-taught expert on when he should and shouldn't do something. When to stay put and when to go explore, when to follow rules and when to break them. This was one of those times when the ruling was to keep his mouth shut. The quicker this operation was wrapped up the quicker he and Artemis could find their father. Alex knew Artemis knew this too, but unlike him his brother would say something. The Paris event was suspicious, and the older boy was wired differently than him. Artemis's instinct was to speak up while Alex's was to keep quiet.

"Does anyone else think this is too easy? It's just what you all wanted to happen. Not to mention the fact that there could be more mesmerized humans up there."

Root didn't appear to appreciate Artemis's insight.

"Look, Fowl, you've don't what we asked. The Paris connection has been broken off. There won't be any more illegal shipments coming down that chute, I assure you. In fact we have doubled security on all chutes, whether they're operational or not. The important thing is that whoever is trading with the humans hasn't told them about the People. There will, of course, be a major investigation, but that's an internal problem. So don't you worry your juvenile head about it. Concentrate on growing some bristles."

Alex hurriedly signaled Foaly to interrupt before Artemis could respond. "About Russia," the centaur said, placing his torso between Artemis and the Commander. "I've got a lead."

Alex suddenly appeared at his brother's side. "He traced the e-mail."

"But that's been spiked. Untraceable." Artemis said.

Foaly chuckled openly. "Spiked? Don't make me laugh. You Mud Men and you communications systems. You're still using wires, for heaven's sake. If it's been sent I can trace it."

"So, where did you trace it to?"

By now Foaly had switched into lecture mode. "Every computer has a signature, as individual as a fingerprint. Networks too leave micro traces, depending on the age of the wiring. Everything's molecular, and if you pack gigabytes of data into a little cable, some of that cable is going to wear off."

Alex was fascinated, and wishing his school courses were this easy to follow. Butler, however, was growing impatient. "Listen Foaly. Time is of the essence. Mister Fowl's life could hang in the balance. So get to the point before I start breaking things."

The centaur's first impulse was to laugh. Surely, the human was joking. Then he remembered what Butler had done to Trouble Kelp's Retrieval squad, and decided to proceed directly to the point.

"Very well, Mud Man. Keep your hair on."

Well, almost directly to the point.

"I put the MPG through my filters. Uranium residue points to northern Russia."

"Now, there's a shock."

"I'm not finished," said Foaly. "Watch and learn."

The centaur brought up a satellite photo of the Arctic Circle on the wall screen, with every keystroke the highlighted area shrank.

"Uranium means Severomorsk. Or somewhere within a hundred miles. The copper wiring is from an old network. Early twentieth century, pathed up over the years. The only match is Murmansk as easy as connecting the dots."

Artemis sat forward in his chair. Alex's neck stretched upward just a bit.

"There are two hundred and eighty-four thousand land lines on that network." Foaly had to stop for a laugh. "Land lines. Barbarians."

Butler cracked his knuckles loudly and Alex made anxious gestures to continue.

"Ah, so two hundred and eighty-four thousand land lines. I wrote up a program to search for hits on our MPG. Two possible matches. One: the Hall of Justice."

"I don't think so." Alex said.

"The other?" Artemis asked.

"The other line is registered to a Mikhael Vassikin on Lenin Prospekt."

Artemis felt his stomach churn. He glanced sideways at Alex, the younger boy shot him a glare at the unspoken question.

"And what do we know about Mikhael Vassikin?"

Foaly wiggled his fingers like a concert pianist. "I ran a search on my own intelligence files archives. I like to keep tabs on Mud Man so-called intelligence agencies. Quite a few mentions of you by the way, Butler."

The manservant tried to look innocent, but his facial muscles couldn't quite pull it off. The fact that Alex was struggling to hid his own mischievous smile barely a foot from him didn't help.

"Mikhael Vassikin is ex-KGB, now working for the Mafiya. The official term is khuligany. An enforcer. Not high level but not street trash either. Vassikin's boss is a Murmansker known as Britva. The group's main source of income comes from the kidnapping of European businessmen. In the past five years they have abducted six Germans and a Swede."

Artemis opened his mouth to ask something, but Alex beat him to it. "How many were rescued?"

Foaly consulted his statistics. "None," he said. "And in two cases, the negotiators went missing. Eight million dollars in lost ransom."

Noticing Alex now looked almost as pale as his brother, Butler struggled from a tiny fairy chair.

"Right, enough talk. I think it's time for Mister Vassikin was introduced to my friend, Mister Fist."

Melodramatic, thought Artemis as Alex cracked a smile. But I couldn't have put it better myself.

"Yes, old friend. Soon enough. But I have no wish to add you to the list of lost negotiators. These men are smart. So we must be smarter. We have advantages that none of our predecessors had. We know who the kidnapper is, we know where he lives, and most importantly, we have fairy magic."

Alex glanced at Commander Root. "We do have fairy magic, right?"

"You have this fairy at any rate," replied the commander. "I won't force any of my people to go to Russia. But I could use some backup." He glanced at Holly. "What do you think?"

"Of course I'm coming," said Holly. "I'm the best shuttle pilot you have."

Chute 93

Julius Root always traveled in style. In this instance he had commandeered the Atlantean ambassador's shuttle. All leather and gold. Seats softer than a gnome's behind, and drag buffers that negated all but the most serious jolts.

Needless to say, the Atlantean ambassador hadn't been all that thrilled about handing over the starter chip. But it was difficult to refuse the commander when his fingers were drumming a tattoo on the tri-barreled blaster strapped to his hip. So now the humans and their two elfin chaperones were climbing E93 in some considerable comfort.

Artemis helped himself to a bottle of still water from the chiller cabinet and passed another to Alex.

"This tastes unusual," the older boy commented. "Not unpleasant, but different."

Alex, meanwhile, downed his bottle's contents. He couldn't see what Artemis was talking about, it tasted delicious.

"Clean is the word you're searching for," said Holly. "You wouldn't believe how many filters we have to put it through to purge the Mud Man from it."

"No bickering, Captain Short," warned Root. Artemis though, had stopped paying attention about halfway through, more concerned with getting Alex not to engulf the entire bottle. He succeeded, but the younger boy shot his tongue in his direction. "I want a smoot mission. Now suit up, all of you. We won't last five minutes out there without protection."

The captain cracked open an overhead locker. "Fowl, front and center."

Alex inheirited a lot from his mother, including her 'Arty, behave' look, which he shot at his brother as he stepped forward with a bemused smile twitching at his lips.

Holly pulled several cubic packages from the locker.

"What are you, about a six?"

Artemis shrugged. He wasn't familiar with the People's system of measurement.

"What? Artemis Fowl doesn't know. I thought you were the world's expert on the People."

Alex could smell a fight brewing and decided to intervene. "I thing a four for me. Four and a half if you have it."

Holly passed him a second package while Artemis unwrapped his own. It was a suit of some ultralight rubber polymer.

"Antiradiation," Holly explained. "Your cells will thank me in fifty years, if you're still around."

Both boys pulled a suit over their clothes; each shrank to fit like a second skin.

"Clever material." Artemis commented as Alex flexed his arms experimentally.

"Memory latex. Molds itself to your shape, within reason. One use only, unfortunately. Wear it and recycle it."

Butler clinked over. He was carrying so much fairy weaponry that Foaly had supplied him with a Moonbelt. The belt reduced the effective weight of its attachments to one fifth of the Earth norm.

"What about me?" asked Butler, nodding at the rad suits.

Holly frowned. "We don't have anything that deformed. Latex can only go so far."

Alex smiled slightly and blew more air out of his nose than usual.

"Forget it, I've been in Russia before. It didn't kill me."

"Not yet it didn't. Give it time."

Butler shrugged. "What choice do I have?"

Holly smiled, and there was a nasty tinge to it.

"Oh, I didn't say there wasn't a choice."

She reached into the locker, pulling out a large spray can. And for some reason, that little can scared Butler more than a bunker full of missiles. Alex's eyes brightened and he leaned forward.

"Now, hold still," she said, aiming a gramophone-type nozzle at the bodyguard. "This may stink worse than a hermit dwarf, but at least your skin won't glow in the dark."