The Serpent Under
Butler had not permitted Artemis to drive this time, and it was a fair point he made; Artemis had nearly killed them both only yesterday. That gave Artemis space to think; something which he had become afraid of recently, but right now, he indulged in the opportunity to watch the world go by. The radio was playing, and that again was unusual. Butler had put it on – some sort of old-school rock hits radio station – and Artemis had deigned not to make any smart remarks as to his tastes. They sat in peaceful silence, the high-pitched warbling of a so-called famous rock star now the soundtrack to the slow crawl of London traffic. Another unusual thing to note was Artemis being sat in the front passenger seat. To enable him to work while Butler drove, he usually sat in the back and was able to use the facilities in the rear seats (charging port, slide-out desk, WiFi portal) to type away on his laptop. He'd chosen not to multi-task (for once), allowing his mind to wander aimlessly.
"What do other people think about, Butler?" Artemis broke the silence, his eyes resting on a particular specimen of humankind stood at a bus stop they'd stopped beside in the traffic. The man was aged over forty, wore only dark colours and stared so blankly into the air that a small drip of drool wet his , by the look of it,Artemis thought, with a detached sense of interest.
"This takes me back to the types of questions twelve-year-old Artemis asked," Butler tried not to look at his charge when the inevitable glare flicked in his direction.
"I was just thinking," Artemis grumbled defensively, "that I spend the majority of my time plotting solutions to climate change, or my next published article, or a book, or a new invention. What does someone likethatthink about?" He gestured to the man, just before the car crawled onwards towards the traffic light.
"Why don't you ask him?" It was a capricious remark, and one Artemis chose to test Butler's sense of humour with.
"Good idea, Butler," he reached for the door handle and made to exit the vehicle. It had the desired effect, with Butler's eyes flaring wide and his arm twitching to grab his charge. Artemis tittered childishly and released the door. Butler puffed air through his lips in a short blast.
"Just don't ask Katherina that question," he grumbled, and Artemis could sense the sour spirit to the comment. He probably deserved it in this case.
"She said she liked my suits," Artemis replied happily, chewing his lip to swallow the satisfied grin that threatened to erupt. He could feel Butler's eyes rolling like planets in his skull.
"I thought your astuteness for sarcasm was a quality of yours. Perhaps not."
"Right. I definitely didn't deserve that one." Artemis folded his arms, vexed. "Am I getting myself too wrapped up in her?"
Butler chuckled, lightly. "For you, not at all, Artemis. Not at all."
"I worry constantly about it," he admitted. "That and other things, of course."
"Worry is becoming your middle name."
"I do believe my paranoia is going too far," Artemis averted his gaze out of the window. "Which is why I am voicing my paranoia to a third party. So that the third party may objectively respond to my paranoia and help alleviate it."
"Do I maintain my demotion to 'Third Party'? Or can you confide in a 'friend'?"
"I suppose so," he wrung his hands in his lap, not quite comfortable in voicing his emotions with such honesty. He figured he could be no further embarrassed in life than Butler having known about his darkest secret. Butler's stern eyes holding him still while he said the words, 'suicidal' wouldn't leave him. "I can confide in a friend."
"Then your third-party friend wants to know if you feel your Atlantis Complex has returned."
Artemis gulped, his stomach knotting. His palms were icy with sweat. "No." Even to his own ears, he didn't sound convinced. "No," he repeated, more firmly, "it's not Atlantis this time." Butler maintained a stoic silence and Artemis could tell he was doing so to illicit Artemis to fill the awkward pause with more of his thoughts. He considered briefly that Butler had picked up far too much psychological knowledge from their chats over the years, and now those lectures were coming to bite him in the arse. Rather than responding with stubbornness, he decided it more productive to play along. "My paranoia in this case is that my interest in Katherina is self-serving. My mind is telling me that I am seeking to substitute Holly in my life, who has clearly drawn herself back from me to force me to make human friends. Thus, I am getting myself too wrapped up in Katherina as a replacement."
"Do those two seem at all similar, other than the fact they are both female?"
"Absolutely not." Artemis found it hard to imagine the two of them in the same room. Holly with her fire, Katherina with her cool temperament, but both with steely morality. He wasn't sure if Holly's outward ferocity would bulldoze Katherina's meek disposition at first, or if they'd form a solid alliance due to their equally strong values. Not that this would ever happen – he alone had the honour of being able to peek into the faery world.
"Then she's hardly a replacement. Plus, Holly is still there. She's still in your life. So, what else?"
"My paranoia says that my interest in her is because she's a female and of similar age."
"And? Can't you be interested in a female of similar age?"
"Hmm." Artemis paused. "Then, I am just talking with her to relieve the… boredom I've felt lately?"
"I would have thought speaking to someone who interests you is a lot more fulfilling than spending time with someone who bores you."
"This is far more effective than I assumed it would be," Artemis frowned, almost annoyed by how simple Butler was making things for him.
"These are normal insecurities, Artemis. Paranoia would be believing she was only close to you for your money, or to kill you in your sleep."
"My paranoia also says that her associations with me will one day hurt her." It was at this point that Butler was unable to find the words to deny him, and Artemis' eyes fell into his lap. "That one's not unreasonable, is it?" His voice was soft, almost inaudible over the music. Butler cursed himself internally – he knew his delay had hurt Artemis, but he couldn't defend it.
He trod carefully, "The young lady seems plenty capable of looking after herself. I thought she was going to put you in detention after the café incident."
"And I suppose it's what I do from now that will affect whether or not my fear transpires."
"Plus, you've made no commitment to marry her, Artemis. Just enjoy the ride, stop catastrophising."
Artemis blushed and began to stutter, something he was not used to doing, "I wasn't talking r-romantically at all, I meant friendship. Just friendship. Holly's just a friend as well, so I was just saying..."
"Well, Mr Romantic, we've arrived, so it's probably about time you switched-fire to your presentation."
Artemis glanced out of the window and saw it was true. He hadn't noticed the car pull into the street where the underground parking entrance was.
"It's fortunate I understand your military slang these days, but it doesn't help your inconspicuousness."
A guard at the gate waved them down, checked Butler's ID and then opened the gate. Meanwhile, Artemis adjusted his tie, chewed on a tictac he'd removed from the centre console and wiped his hands and face down with recyclable non-plastic wet wipes. They were met at the bottom of the ramp by another uniformed member of staff, who directed them towards their designated parking spot. Internally, Artemis knew Butler would be approving their choice – right by the entranceway and beside a pillar which negated any other vehicles parking beside them.
"You made enough of a fuss last time that they remembered," Artemis commented.
"I was hardly parking on the third floor below ground level at the opposite end from the lift."
"You could find a hundred reasons why its safer to be opposite the lift, and a hundred why its not. You overthink security." To make a point, Artemis let himself out of the passenger door instead of waiting for his bodyguard to walk round for him. As he walked towards the lift, Butler quickly grabbed their bags and laid a hand on his charge's shoulder.
"Come on Artemis, play the game. I play yours all the time."
Artemis said nothing but was smiling; he slowed his pace anyway and Butler fell into step beside him.
They entered the lift, and Butler selected the button for the floor above where they needed to go. Rolling his eyes, Artemis realised his little joke had backfired into Butler deliberately being more security conscious than normal. He was taking them to a floor above their destination to give it a quick visual sweep prior to heading down a floor. Artemis elected not to comment.
"Don't get out on your own," Butler warned.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Visual sweep complete, they finally exited at the floor they were meant to arrive at and were greeted by a member of staff decked in red and gold: his waistcoat was red with gold lettering, his trousers red with gold trim, his watch gold, even the glasses that rested at the bottom of his nose were red.
"Mr Fowl, it's a pleasure to see you and thank you for visiting The Ophelia Hotel. Please head this way."
He led them down a white hallway: crystal chandeliers drew Artemis' attention as he noted how high the ceiling was. The doorways were each framed by Greek-style marble pillars, small alcoves along the wall housed marble busts in brilliant white. The carpet was a brilliant red.
Red is dead. Artemis' brain cheerily announced, and he blinked in horror. This was not the time to be losing his composure.
They took a left, a right, and then were led to the fourth room from the end of the corridor. No doubt Butler would be memorising all this. The Porter halted outside of the door and knocked, lightly. There was a lengthy pause while they waited for a response, which Artemis' brain unfortunately elected to fill.
"Here's a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old turning the key." Artemis quoted aloud. The "Porter" shifted slightly, unsure whether to react. The outburst reminded Artemis of the days where Orion sat firmly in his pre-frontal cortex, and that knot in his stomach twisted again. Butler nudged his charge. "Sorry, a light joke."
"Ah hah," the Porter smiled, awkwardly. He appeared relieved when the door opened, and he was able to hand Artemis over to their host."
"Artemis," the Mayor beamed brightly, offering out a firm handshake. Artemis allowed himself to slip into business mode. His persona easily switched, and he knew the game had begun. He was introduced to a few others in the room – primarily white businessmen in suits – and shown to the drinks. From the tray offered to him, he grabbed himself a glass of water (Irish spring water, of course – and no ice. They had keenly prepared for his arrival). The Mayor explained the set-up for the meeting and quickly moved on to welcome his next guest.
A quick scan of the room revealed around eleven faces, some familiar, some not so. It was one particular face stole his attention. He glanced at Butler and knew his bodyguard had clocked onto the same person and was now zoning in.
"Inconspicuous if you please, Butler. Tone down the murderous intent in your eyes." Artemis kept his voice low and meanwhile smiled at a business partner he had worked with before as they raised a hand in acknowledgement.
"Mr Jay Arthur Lamb," Butler dutifully relaxed his expression and continued his scan of the room. "The owner of Marlowe Media. He was sending journalists to stalk you at university not too long ago. Do you think he's here for a reason?"
"To applaud my clever plan?" Artemis joshed. "Of course he's here for something malicious."
"Did you anticipate this?"
Artemis gave Butler a look that dripped with sarcasm. Butler's eye twitched. He could feel the stress on its way back into his bones.
"Ah hah, something wicked this way comes." On cue, Mr Lamb noticed Artemis' presence (or pretended to notice, as Artemis assumed he had likely been eyeing the doorway, waiting for their arrival). He gave a sly smile, rested his now empty glass on the tray of a waiter and stalked his way through the small room.
"I have perhaps ten minutes until my presentation is set to begin, and maybe three before I forego any sense of courtesy." Artemis declared under his breath before the man was within hearing distance.
"I give it thirty seconds." Butler retorted and shifted his position to stand ready to react. Artemis rolled his eyes and waved a hand at him wearily to stand down. Butler did not relax a millimetre.
"Artemis Fowl, an absolute pleasure," the man spoke with a Belfast accent. His face had heavy-set features: a prominent Roman nose, thick black eyebrows, the dark shadow of stubble on his upper lip and the darker shadows of sleepless nights under his eyes.
"The pleasure's all mine, I'm sure," Artemis nodded. "Have you travelled far today, sir?" He asked. Business slang for, 'I don't know who you are, so I am probing for clues as to your identity'. A twitch of Mr Lamb's face clearly showed the nerve Artemis had immediately struck, like a dentist tapping against the offending tooth with practised ease. So much for thirty seconds, he supposed. It was unusual for Artemis to feign ignorance to something, and he was delighted with the result.
"We should have shared a flight," Mr Lamb retained a smile on his thin lips, "For I travelled from Dublin, like yourself. My name is Jay Lamb, though we are already acquainted."
"My apologies, of course. A wonder you should know my flight patterns, Mr Lamb," he mused aloud, wondering faintly if Mr Lamb was astute enough to notice the casual reference to his stalking. The tensing of his jaw suggested yes. "The wonders of modern life, eh? Everything we do these days is on social media. Whether we like it or not."
"For sure." There was now thinly veiled ice in his rival's expression. It hadn't taken long to wear down the façade of acquaintanceship. "Have you come alone today?"
"I am never alone, Mr Lamb," Artemis let loose a glint of his vampiric smile and Butler cracked his wrist, right on time. "As much as I appreciate a good dash of privacy."
"Oh, I should be referring to your partner, Mr Fowl." And there went the last mask of indifference. Artemis' whole body tightened. He lifted his chin slightly, staring across at Mr Lamb with an ice-blue stare.
"I was not aware I had one," he tilted his head and set the glass in his hand down on an empty tray as it passed by without sparing so much as a glance in its direction – Butler would be impressed with his proprioception, if he spared a second to remove his eyes from Mr Lamb.
"A young man such as yourself? I colour myself shocked."
"Colour yourself green, as I know you to be trapped in a loveless marriage." It was Mr Lamb's turn to eradicate the smile on his face. He grew hostile, jaw tense. Butler coughed – another reminder of his presence. The man's eyes flicked up to Butler, and his expression soured further. Artemis continued. "Your marriage may be loveless, but your affair appears to be brimming with affection."
"Perhaps we should cease this conversation."
"Perhaps. I granted you one warning, Mr Lamb. By the nature of your lofty status, I wonder if yourassistantspassed on the warning I gave the first time. Thus, though rare, I will be gracious enough to grant you a second one. Note that it will be the last." Artemis closed his arms across his chest and held the man's gaze with cold malice. "You'll find I have mellowed as I edge into my twenties, but I remain the same creature at heart. Any plots you seek against me will be returned threefold, that is a promise. I trust you recognise my reputation."
A long silence drew on, broken only by the sound of Mr Lamb's teeth grinding, slowly, and it was clear to Artemis that venomous words bit the tip of Mr Lamb's tongue, but he chose to swallow them. This set Artemis' instincts humming; he could feel that this was not the end of their rivalry. His threat had not dissuaded him. There was far more bitterness in this man than he could defer with words alone. Perhaps more was needed to put Mr Lamb back in his snake's box. Alas, today was not the day.
"I have to go prepare my presentation. If you'll excuse me," he gave a slight nod, and span on his heel. Butler lingered only a second, before following close behind.
"That man is dangerous, Artemis," Butler muttered. "There's vengeance in his eyes. I don't think we've heard the last of him."
"Regardless, it is always the Fowls that have the last word."
In his mind, he was already plotting. He was running through the scrolls of knowledge about Mr Lamb that sat within his subconscious, running his mind's eye across each page and analysing the pathways to his ruin. He picked out names, faces, businesses big and small. He considered economic ruin, reputational humiliation, complete isolation. There was not a chance he would let such a slight against the Fowls pass by unchecked.
And then he paused. He became troubled. There were now three faces staring at him, unblinkingly, each with expressions of disappointment. Angeline, Holly, and now Katherina. He shook his head, trying to shake the disconcertion from his mind. It persisted.
Why is it the women in my life are my moral compasses?He scoffed , I suppose Foaley is hardly a paradigm of good conscience. And my father can be as dark and twisted as I. Sometimes Butler is my judge and jury, but in this case, he would support eradicating the threat – he'd only pause to labour on the swiftness and surety of my method. It remains the duty of the women in my life to educate me in restraint and compassion, to check my ego, to guide me towards maturity. And now Katherina joins them in my head.
Well, rather her than Orion sitting up there.