The Raven Himself Is Hoarse

"You know better than to ask me to leave your side, Artemis." Butler's tone was low and intimidating, at least to any normal person. Artemis knew his bodyguard better. His voice was rumbling because he was worried. The extra layer to his words were the result of thousands of exposures to Artemis' schemes, and he could tell he was about to be drawn into yet another.

"You have no problem being away while I'm at University," Artemis countered. Butler reeled.

"Your father ordered me to stop following you into school!" his hands gesticulated wildly, and Artemis knew he'd hit a nerve. Of course, it had been intentional. "Even you said to stay away! As your bodyguard, it's all I can do to stay in my surveillance pod opposite-," he stopped himself and Artemis' eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Ah ha, so you do follow me." As usual, the boy was smug as the cat who got the cream. Butler couldn't help but roll his eyes in exasperation.

"You tricked me."

"I had thought you would be watching me," Artemis shrugged. "But you were concealing it so well, the only way to be sure was to tag you. Of course, I wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't you?" Butler sounded tired and his age was showing in his expression.

"Alright, alright. What is it you want me to do? This isn't me agreeing, by the way."

"Certainly not," Artemis grinned. His manservant began to feel doubt chew at his gut again. The boy was up to something. "It's just a bit of research, anyhow. You won't be far from me. I can call out at any time."

"Can't I do this research from the back of the room you're in? Or even better, can't it wait?"

"I'm not having you ruining a perfect presentation by sitting in the back, jabbing at the keyboard. And no, it can't wait. There's a lady attending this meeting that may be able to aid me with something. That's why I need the information now."

"… What information?"

"There has been an article published about me on a small internet news site. The web page itself is run by an insignificant company, but I did a little digging and the editor-in-chief also works for another company, which is owned by a businessman I believe may have taken an interest in me. My assumption is he has used this news site to spark gossip about the Fowls. The question now is, why?"

"How do you know that the businessman is behind all this, and not the news site? Why isn't this just like all the other gossip articles someone invents about you?"

"Because all the photos on the recent articles about me have been taken with a high-quality camera. If this was an opportunist student selling pictures of me to news sites, firstly, is it likely they happened to have a high-quality camera on them to take this shot? The zoom quality is incredible; they could have been up to 100m away – this wasn't a mobile phone shot.

"Secondly, why chose a news page that is not based in Dublin? Or even, Ireland? The website is run from London, and most of the gossip articles are about B-list celebrities living in or around London. To run a story about an Irish University student just seems bizarre."

"Not if he's the same teenager that sold the pyramids to an American businessman at 11 years old."

"10," Artemis corrected, "But no matter. You should have taken an interest by now. I'm surprised you haven't clicked on. Madame Ko would surely be turning in her grave." Butler pondered for a few seconds, running through what his charge had said and trying his best to fit the pieces together. It was only when he decided to think like 'Butler' and not like 'Artemis', that he realised why he should be concerned.

"Someone's tailing you," he said, grimly, already checking each corner of the room like some bad guy would spring from under the bed.

"Exactly. If the photos are that high-quality and that frequent, they've paid someone to follow me."

"Why would they do that? What's their objective?"

"That, old friend," Artemis crossed his arms, once again sporting his customary smirk, "is my little research task for you. I'm afraid we're running out of time – I have to go set up. You have enough information to get started; I'll see you in approximately an hour."

"Keep your microphone on, Artemis," Butler said before his charge left the room, cursing that once again, he'd been strung along with Artemis' wishes. He knew he would be.

Artemis tapped his watch, which concealed the tiny microphone he'd installed for emergencies. The microphone had only two recipients programmed in: Butler and Foaly. He'd send the centaur a courteous message informing him to ignore the emergency call he would be receiving for the next hour, but no doubt the centaur would take the rare opportunity to listen in on every word.

The meeting room was long and thin, with an oval-shaped glass table in the centre of the room and dark leather chairs facing front. He plugged his tablet into the control system, flicking on the projector that whirred into life. I should have brought my own set-up, he complained to himself. The projector's hum made far too much noise, and the quality of the focus was mediocre. If he brought his own equipment with him for every minor inconvenience, though, he'd be weighed down by hundreds of bags every day. Or at least, Butler would. Sometimes it was nice to go old-school, if only to appreciate modern technology more.

He skimmed his presentation quickly, making final checks for grammatical errors or typos though he was content that his specially programmed LexiCorrector would have caught anything. The system was able to pick up his frequent corrections and even gave him a weekly feedback report of which words he had overused to ensure his vocabulary remained extensive and up to date, as well as concise. For example, there were a few Irish-isms to his terminology that the LexiCorrector highlighted to him, though he decided to let most of them slip and programmed Lexi to ignore them. Afterall, there was nothing wrong with being Irish.

When his audience finally arrived, he scanned the room and mentally checked through each face. The owner of FortC Tech at the front peered at him over thick lenses, beside him his close companion the owner of Mayflower Engineering – she gave him an equally calculating look. Everyone he expected to arrive was here, plus a few new faces. With a quick, surreptitious face search by the angled rear camera on his mobile phone, he was able to confirm their identities. He'd requested his invited audience bring along anyone else they believed may be interested in his proposal.

His proposal had been simplified and distributed to a set number of people. Essentially, he'd devised a turbine-like contraption that could fit to pretty much anything and capture its latent energy. It was available in sizes from fingernail equivalent to industrial. People in their homes could attach the device to their shower faucet or to a static bike and as the turbine spun, it would charge the battery and a small LED would indicate when full. That device then plugged into a larger battery, which transformed the kinetic energy into electrical and stored it. For ordinary families, it could be a reasonably priced gadget to feel better about their energy consumption and save a couple of pennies on energy bills. For big businesses, this was a renewable energy solution of a much smaller design than most other transformers. Gyms could attach them to exercise bikes or treadmills to self-charge. Even the turnstiles in football stadiums could generate power all day long, on average reducing monthly bills by 20%.

And now his product was ready for market, finally. He just needed to make sure the market was ready for AF Tech to explode onto the scene, with devices like this and at least twelve others ready to sell in their millions. He only worried that studying at University was not going to allow him the free time to capitalise on all the opportunities about to be thrown his way. However, he'd postponed this product a year and a half already – he could no longer do that. The world was catching up, and it wouldn't be long before his ideas were beaten to the finish line.

There's just not enough seconds in my lifetime, he allowed himself a quick side thought while he waited for the video he'd prepared to load. As he thought, he should have brought the signal booster with him.

He dimmed the lights, which allowed him to peer into the audience once more and examine each face. More specifically, he was able to scrutinise Mrs Aisling Tyler – a media conglomerate, here as the representative Artemis had chosen to have the inside scoop on all Artemis Fowl Technology products. Also, the woman he needed to speak to regarding a certain media conglomerate, who just happened to be her nearest competitor.

As he launched into his speech, he was suddenly cast back in time. He was in Iceland, his close friends gathered before him as he described AF Tech's first revolutionary technology. He had recently chosen to split AF Tech into two businesses: one for over ground and one for under it. The Icelandic pitch had been for his faery friends only, a product far too advanced for current human technology. Once he'd made that decision, each planned product was carefully streamlined to the correct market. He was preparing to launch some of his products into Haven as early as he could establish a logistical chain. The main difficulty was getting all this past the centaur, who would no doubt shut down this operation once he got hold of it (if he were even able to). Trading with the humans was illegal under faery law. Artemis had been scrolling through faery law manuals for months now, scribbling down the loopholes in every argument. As soon as he found enough evidence, he'd hire a faery lawyer and get his products launched. No doubt the centaur would be upset – Foaly's technology mostly owned the marketplace. It was going to be a challenge to squeeze in there, but Artemis Fowl was all about finding the next challenge these days. He couldn't go ahead with any illegal ventures, so he had to find his adrenaline hits from elsewhere.

The faces of his friends twisted in his mind. They weren't looking at him with awe and fascination, as he expected. Instead, they seemed … to pity him. He took a break from his speech to take a sip of water – he needed the reprise. Get back on track, Artemis, he thought. Don't be swayed by the past. If you keep thinking about things like that, you'll make a disastrous error. This is far too important.

He returned his focus to the project and to his presentation, bringing up a 3D image of the product on screen and rotating it 360 degrees. He opened up for questions, allowing his guests to query the products mechanisms. He gladly skeletonised the image to view the interior, though some key parts were blocked out – he didn't entirely trust that one of his guests wouldn't be able to instantly memorise the mechanisms and replicate it before he managed to get it into market. Was he paranoid? No, a bit of paranoia was good. Something like this was an obvious move, it wasn't a sign his Atlantis Complex was coming back.

Yet, earlier on, he'd seen the five pillars outside the front of reception, and it had relaxed him somehow. No, this was all in his head. He was looking for problems where they didn't exist. He was already cured of Atlantis. He stumbled over a word in his otherwise flawless commentary and quickly regained his composure. Next door, Artemis imagined Butler frowning.

Back on track, stop distracting yourself.

That was the problem with his mind lately. Overactive. Searching for imperfections and problems constantly, a barrage of non-stop criticisms running through his conscious. He picked out every single flicker of an expression in others and his mind was interpreting it before he could stop himself. Maybe he'd never felt this before because he never had time to. Or perhaps now that his conscious had awakened, it had switched on some other part of his brain that was trying to distinguish his old self from his new one.

He brought the presentation to a close. Hopefully, Butler had found the information he needed.

"We'll now take a short break for you all to refresh yourselves and consider my proposal before I take any final questions. Please make good use of the tea and coffee machines."

Once a small buzz of chatter had developed in the room, the door to the left of Artemis clicked open and Butler entered.

"Did you find anything, Domovoi?"

"I didn't train in intelligence gathering, Artemis. I've found some things of interest, but I wouldn't call them 'motives'. I traced all the recent news articles about you and their sources. I'm pretty certain that they're owned by the same media company. Or as least, the companies are sharing resources. All the pictures are the same, and the articles are worded identically. That businessman you mentioned – is it Mr Jay Arthur Lamb? He seems to be the overall owner. About ten years ago, he wasn't a media conglomerate but worked as a prosecutor. He was all over the news himself – ironic, really. He lost a case quite dramatically – broke down in court. Became a laughingstock in the barrister world."

"Ah…" Artemis said, his eyes shifting to the ground. "I think I know the case." Butler knew that look immediately.

"Were you … involved, somehow, Artemis?"

"I might have been." Artemis shrugged, lightly, remembering to turn off the microphone in his watch.

Butler heaved his shoulders in resignation. "So, this whole thing is because of a grudge? You're getting tailed and hounded by the media because of a grudge?"

"Perhaps."

"Artemis Fowl, you're an enigma." Butler checked no one was close by, before asking, "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Now is not the time for that. I need to speak with Ms Tyler before this break concedes."

With that announcement, Artemis headed for the refreshments where his target was pouring herself a cup of tea, chatting freely with the young man she'd arrived with. She had black hair, glossy and straight as an edge. It fell down to her shoulders. She pushed it out of her face, which was a porcelain white. It was almost a stereotypical Irish look – the dark hair and the bright green eyes. Artemis knew quite a bit about her, she'd been on his radar for several years. His father had used their company several times in order to publicise the Fowl's activities. She was at least forty years old, but she appeared younger. Artemis knew she was a bit of a health fanatic, exercising regularly and advocating for various diets. Even more interesting than her looks though was her intelligent personality. He'd met with her before, and she proved herself to be an astute businesswoman. He knew persuading her to help him would require a considered approach.

"Ms Tyler, I'm glad you could make it today." He offered out his hand and she took it, offering him a pleasant smile.

"Mr Fowl, you're working hard as ever. Just like your father."

"I thank you for the compliment. I was wondering if I could have a minute of your time."

"Go ahead, this young man is my secretary," she gestured to the long-legged young adult beside her, who nodded.

"Jack, nice to meet you."

"Jack," Artemis took his hand and shook it firmly. "Good to meet you. I'm afraid what I want to discuss is not for the ears of others, Ms Tyler."

"Jack can be trusted. He's been working with me for several years now."

"Then that's fine with me. I'd just like to pull you away from the crowd."

They stepped away from the other businessmen and women towards the front of the room, sufficient distance to speak without others overhearing.

"Have you heard of a Mr Jay Lamb?"

"Have I heard of him?" Aisling shuddered. "Awful human being. Unfortunately, he's one of our biggest competitors. They deal more with gossip than with genuine good reporting. Its businesses like his that drag down the reputation of the media."

"That's certainly the man. He's taken an interest in me."

"I was aware, actually." Aisling nodded. "I keep track of things like that."

"I thought you might."

"Any reason why he has decided to target you, Mr Fowl?"

"Perhaps one," Artemis waved a hand, dismissively. "An old grudge. I had been that focussed on my projects that the articles had completely slipped my radar. This problem has only just come to my attention."

"Is it really a problem? Junk news articles like that don't usually concern you."

"Not particularly. I have two concerns though. First, his behaviour has been unusually persistent. This is more than a simple grudge: to hire people to follow me would suggest that trash articles are not his only plan of action. Secondly, he has been bothering one of my classmates and I'd rather not drag them into my affairs."

"And you want me to investigate?"

"It is in both of our interests that we cooperate on this matter, I believe. I'm not asking you specifically to investigate, but to keep me informed of anything you hear. I want to keep an eye on his movements. I want to know what businesses he owns, who he speaks with, what interest he takes in Fowl affairs."

"And in return?"

"Well," Artemis let one of his old-style vampire smirks tease his lips, "that all depends how I decide to take him down." Aisling shook her head, but she was smiling.

"So, you're planning to get rid of one of our competitors? That's our reward?"

"Does that displease you, Ms Tyler?"

Aisling cracked a sneer that could have competed with Artemis'. She certainly lived up to his expectations. "No, it does not, young Fowl."