The Arctic Incident (Artemis Fowl 2)

“The one we touched on at our last session. About respect?”

“Ah, that issue.”

Po steepled his fingers. “I want you to pretend I’m as smart as you are, and give me an honest answer.”

Artemis thought of his father, lying in a Helsinki hospital, of Captain Holly Short risking her life to help him, and, of course, of Butler, without whom he would never have made it out of Koboi Laboratories. He looked up, and found Dr. Po smiling at him.

“Well, young man, have you found anyone worthy of your respect?”

Artemis smiled back. “Yes,” he said. “I believe I have.”

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THE ETERNITY CODE

ARTEMIS placed the shining box on the table.

“The future, Mr. Spiro. Ahead of schedule.”

Jon Spiro leaned in, taking a good look. “Looks like a paperweight to me.”

Arno Blunt snickered, his eyes taunting Butler.

“A demonstration, then,” said Artemis, picking up the metal box. He pressed a button and the gadget purred into life. Sections slid back to reveal speakers and a screen.

“Cute,” muttered Spiro. “I flew three thousand miles for a micro TV?”

Artemis nodded. “A micro TV. But also a verbally controlled computer, a mobile phone, a diagnostic aid. This little box can read any information on absolutely any platform, electronic or organic. It can play videos, laser disks, DVDs, go online, retrieve e-mail, hack any computer. It can even scan your chest to see how fast your heart’s beating. Its battery is good for two years, and of course it’s completely wireless.”

Artemis paused, to let it sink in.

Spiro’s eyes grew huge behind his spectacles.

“You mean, this box . . .”

“Will render all other technology obsolete. Your computer plants will be worthless.”

The American took several deep breaths.

“But how . . . how?”

Artemis flipped the box over. An infrared sensor pulsed gently on the back.

“This is the secret. An omni-sensor. It can read anything you ask it to. And if the source is programmed in, it can piggyback on any satellite you choose.”

Spiro wagged a finger. “But that’s illegal, isn’t it?”

“No, no.” Artemis smiled. “There are no laws against something like this. And there won’t be for at least two years after it comes out. Look how long it took to shut down Napster.”

The American rested his face in his hands. It was too much.

“I don’t understand. This is years, no decades, ahead of anything we have now. You’re nothing but a thirteen-year-old kid. How did you do it?”

Artemis thought for a second. What was he going to say? That sixteen months ago Butler had taken on a Lower Elements Police Retrieval Squad and confiscated their fairy technology? Then he had taken the components and built this wonderful box? Hardly.

“Let’s just say I’m a very smart boy, Mr. Spiro.”

Spiro’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe not as smart as you’d like us to think. I want a demonstration.”

“Fair enough.” Artemis nodded. “Do you have a mobile phone?”

“Naturally.” Spiro placed his cell phone on the table. It was the latest Fission Chips model.

“Secure, I take it?”

Spiro nodded arrogantly. “Five-hundred-bit encryption. Best in its class. You’re not getting into the Fission 400 without a code.”

“We shall see.”

Artemis pointed the sensor at the handset. The screen instantly displayed an image of the cell phone’s workings.

“Download?” inquired a metallic voice from the speaker.

“Confirm.”

In less than a second, the job was done.

“Download complete,” said the box, with a hint of smugness.

Spiro was aghast. “I don’t believe it. That system cost twenty million dollars.”

“Worthless,” said Artemis, showing him the screen. “Would you like to call home? Or maybe move some funds around? You really shouldn’t keep your bank account numbers on a SIM card.”

The American thought for several moments.

“It’s a trick,” he pronounced finally. “You must’ve known about my phone. Somehow, don’t ask me how, you got access to it earlier.”

“That is logical,” admitted Artemis. “It’s what I would suspect. Name your test.”

Spiro cast his eyes around the restaurant, fingers drumming the tabletop.

“Over there,” he said finally, pointing to a video shelf above the bar. “Play one of those tapes.”

“That’s it?”

“It’ll do, for a start.”

Arno Blunt made a huge show of flicking through the tapes, eventually selecting one without a label. He slapped it down on the table, bouncing the engraved silver cutlery half an inch into the air.

Artemis resisted the urge to roll his eyes, placing the blue box directly onto the tape’s surface.

An image of the cassette’s innards appeared on the tiny plasma screen.

“Download?” asked the box.

Artemis nodded. “Download, compensate, and play.”

Again the operation was completed in under a second. An old episode of an English soap crackled into life.

“DVD quality,” commented Artemis. “Regardless of the input. The C Cube will compensate.”

“The what?”

“C Cube,” repeated Artemis. “The name I have given my little box. A tad obvious, I admit. But appropriate. The cube that sees everything.”

Spiro snatched the videocassette.

“Check it,” he ordered, tossing the tape to Arno Blunt.

The bleached-blond bodyguard activated the bar’s TV, sliding the video into its slot. Coronation Street flickered across the screen. The same show. Nowhere near the sa

me quality.

“Convinced?” asked Artemis.

The American tinkered with one of his many bracelets. “Almost. One last test. I have a feeling that the government is monitoring me. Could you check it out?”

Artemis thought for a moment, then held the omnisensor close to his mouth. “Cube. Do you read any surveillance beams concentrated on this building?”

The machine whirred for a moment.

“The strongest ion beam is eighty kilometers due west. Emanating from U.S. satellite, code number ST1132W. Registered to the Central Intelligence Agency. Estimated time of arrival, eight minutes. There are also several LEP probes connected to . . .”

Artemis hit the mute button before the cube could continue. Obviously the computer’s fairy components could pick up Lower Elements technology too. He would have to remedy that. In the wrong hands that information would be devastating to fairy security.

“What’s the matter, kid? The box was still talking. Who are the LEP?”

Artemis shrugged. “No pay, no play, as you Americans say. One example is enough. The CIA, no less.”

“The CIA,” breathed Spiro. “They suspect me of selling military secrets. They’ve pulled one of their birds out of orbit, just to track me.”

“Or perhaps me,” noted Artemis.

“Perhaps you,” agreed Spiro. “You’re looking more dangerous by the second.”

Arno Blunt chuckled derisively. Butler ignored it. One of them had to be professional.

Spiro cracked his knuckles, a habit Artemis detested.

“We’ve got eight minutes, so let’s get down to the nitty-gritty, kid. How much for the box?”

Artemis was not paying attention, distracted by the LEP information that the Cube had almost revealed. In a careless moment, he had nearly exposed his subterranean friends to exactly the kind of man who would exploit them.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said how much for the box?”