The Arctic Incident (Artemis Fowl 2)

Foaly activated a plasma screen on the holding-cell wall.

“You see these dark circles; these are the human’s retinas. Every image leaves a tiny etching, like a photo negative. We can feed whatever pictures we want into the computer and search for matches.”

Root didn’t exactly fall to his knees in awe. “Isn’t that handy?”

“Well, yes it is, actually. Observe.”

Foaly called up an image of a goblin, cross referencing it with the Retimager’s database.

“For every matching point we get a hit. About two hundred hits is normal. General shape of the head, features, and so on. Anything significantly above that and he’s seen that goblin before.”

One-eighty-six flashed up on the screen.

“Negative on the goblin. Let’s try a softnose.”

Again the count was under two hundred.

“Another negative. Sorry, Captain, but Master Fowl here is innocent. He’s never even seen a goblin, much less traded with the B’wa Kell.”

“They could have mind-wiped him.”

Foaly removed the seals from Artemis’s eyes. “That’s the beauty of this baby. Mindwipes don’t work. The Retimager operates on actual physical evidence. You’d have to scrub the retinas.”

“Anything on the human’s computer?”

“Plenty,” replied Foaly. “But nothing incriminating. Not a single mention of goblins or batteries.”

Root scratched his square jaw. “What about the big one? He could have been the go-between.”

“Did him already with the Retimager. Nothing. Face it, the LEP have pulled in the wrong Mud Men. Wipe ’em and send ’em home.”

Holly nodded. The commander didn’t.

“Wait a minute. I’m thinking.”

“About what?” asked Holly. “The sooner we get Artemis Fowl’s nose out of our business, the better.”

“Maybe not. Since they’re already here . . .”

Holly’s jaw dropped. “Commander. You don’t know Fowl the way I do. Give him half a chance, and he’ll be a bigger problem than the goblins.”

“Maybe he could help us with our Mud Man problem.”

“I have to object, Commander. These humans are not to be trusted.”

Root’s face would have glowed in the dark.

“Do you think I like this, Captain? Do you think I relish the idea of crawling to this Mud Boy? I do not. I would rather swallow live stink worms than ask Artemis Fowl for help. But someone is powering the B’wa Kell’s arms, and I need to find out who. So get with the program, Holly. There’s more at stake here than your little vendetta.”

Holly bit her tongue. She couldn’t oppose the commander, not after all he’d done for her, but asking Artemis Fowl for help was the wrong course of action, whatever the situation. She didn’t doubt for a minute that the human would have a solution to their problem, but at what cost?

Root drew a deep breath. “Okay, Foaly, bring him around. And fit him with a translator. Speaking Mud Man gives me a headache.”

* * *

Artemis massaged the puffy skin beneath his eyes.

“Sedative in the seals?” he said glancing at Foaly. “Micro needles?”

The centaur was impressed. “You’re pretty sharp for a Mud Boy.”

Artemis touched the crescent-shaped nodule fixed above his ear.

“Translator?”

Foaly nodded at the commander. “Speaking in tongues gives some people a headache.”

Artemis straightened his school tie. “I see. Now, how can I be of service?”

“What makes you think we need help from you, human?” growled Root around the butt of his cigar.

The boy smirked. “I have a feeling, Commander, that if you did not need something from me, I would be regaining consciousness in my own bed, with absolutely no memory of our encounter.”

Foaly hid his grin behind a hairy hand.

“You’re lucky you’re not waking up in a cell,” said Holly.

“Still bitter, Captain Short? Can’t we wipe the slate clean?”

Holly’s glare was all the answer he needed.

Artemis sighed. “Very well. I shall guess. There are humans trading with the Lower Elements. And you need Butler to track these merchants down. Close enough?”

The fairies were silent for a moment. Hearing it from Fowl suddenly brought the reality home to them.

“Close enough,” admitted Root. “Okay, Foaly, bring Mud Boy up to speed.”

The consultant loaded a file from the LEP central server. A series of Network News clips flashed up on the plasma screen. The reporter was a middle-aged elf with a forelock the size of a tidal wave.

“Downtown Haven,” crooned the reporter. “Another contraband seizure by the LEP. Hollywood laser disks with an estimated street value of five hundred ounces of gold. The B’wa Kell goblin triad is suspected.”

“It gets worse,” said Root grimly.

Artemis smiled. “There’s worse?”

The reporter appeared again. This time flames billowed from the windows of a warehouse behind him. His forelock looked a bit crispy.

“Tonight the B’wa Kell have staked their claim to the East Bank by torching a warehouse used by Koboi Laboratories. Apparently the pixie with the golden touch refused to pay their protection fee.”

The flames were replaced by another news byte, this time featuring an angry mob.

“Controversy today outside Police Plaza as the public protest the LEP’s failure to deal with the goblin problem. Many ancient houses have been put out of business by the B’wa Kell’s racketeering. Most heavily targeted have been Koboi Laboratories, who have suffered six counts of sabotage in the past month alone.”

Foaly froze the image. The public did not look happy.

“The thing you have to understand, Fowl, is that goblins are dumb. I’m not insulting them, it’s scientifically proven. Brains no bigger than rats.”

Artemis nodded. “So who’s organizing them?”

Root ground out his cigar. “We don’t know. But it’s getting worse. The B’wa Kell have graduated from petty crime to an all-out war on the police. Last night we intercepted a delivery of batteries from the surface. These batteries are being used to power outlawed softnose laser weapons.”

“And Captain Short thought that I might be the Mud Man on the other end of the deal.”

“Can you blame me?” muttered Holly.

Artemis ignored the comment. “How do you know the goblins aren’t just ripping off wholesalers? After all, batteries are rarely under guard.”

Foaly chuckled. “No, I don’t think you understand just how stupid goblins are. Let me give you an example. One of the B’wa Kell generals—and this is their top fairy—was caught trying to pass off a forged credit card, because he signed his own name. No, whoever is behind this

would need a human contact to make sure the deals weren’t fouled up.”

“So you’d like me to find out who this human contact is,” said Artemis. “And more importantly, how much he knows.”

As he spoke, Artemis’s mind was racing. He could work this entire situation to his advantage. The People’s powers would be valuable aces to hold in a negotiation with mobsters. The seeds of a plan began to sprout in his brain.

Root nodded reluctantly. “That’s it. I can’t risk putting LEPrecon agents aboveground. Who knows what technology the goblins have traded? I could be walking my agents into a trap. As humans, you both could blend in.”

“Butler, blend in?” smiled Artemis. “I doubt it.”

“At least he doesn’t have four legs and a tail,” observed Foaly.

“Point taken. And there is no doubt that if any man alive can track down your rogue trader, it’s Butler. But . . .”

Here we go, thought Holly. Artemis Fowl does nothing for nothing.

“But?” prompted Root.

“But if you want my help, I will require something in return.”

“What exactly?” said Root warily.

“I need transport to Russia,” replied Artemis. “The Arctic Circle, to be precise. And I need help with a rescue attempt.”

Root frowned.“Northern Russia is not good for us. We can’t shield there because of the radiation.”

“Those are my conditions,” said Artemis. “The man I intend to rescue is my father. For all I know, it’s already too late. So I really don’t have time to negotiate.”

The Mud Boy sounded sincere. Even Holly’s heart softened for a moment. But you never knew with Artemis Fowl, this could all be part of yet another scheme. Root made an executive decision.

“Deal,” he said, holding out his hand.

They shook. Fairy and human. A historic moment.

“Good,” said Root. “Now, Foaly, wake the big one and give that goblin shuttle a quick systems check.”

“What about me?” asked Holly. “Back on stakeout duty?”

If Root had not been a commander, he probably would have cackled. “Oh no, Captain. You’re the best shuttle pilot we have. You’re going to Paris.”