The Reluctant Assassin

Epilogue


The Battering Rams’ resident tattoo artist, Farley, trailed behind Riley through Holborn, his face hidden by a silken hood of a kind favored by Arab mercenaries. Riley might not have recognized the tattooist even without the hood, had he caught sight of him. Farley did not seem nearly so decrepit as he had in the Hidey-Hole. His back was ramrod straight, and his sure-footed stride was that of a man in early middle age.

Pedestrians gave Farley a wide berth on the footpath for two reasons. For one, something red glittered from the shadows under his hood like the night eye of a wolf, and for another—if a second reason was needed to avoid a gent with a wolf’s eye— this man was obviously a lunatic and destined for a bed in one of Her Majesty’s asylums, for he was speaking into his closed fist as though there was a fairy living in there listening to every word.

So people stepped aside and cast quick, sidelong glances at Farley.

Talking to oneself is the first sign of madness, they thought. And there ain’t no predicting when a madman will spring into sudden violence.

What the Victorian pedestrians could not have possibly known was that Farley was speaking into a microphone strapped to the back of his wrist rather than to a fairy. And the wolf’s eye glowing from the shadowy recesses of his eye socket was, in fact, a monocular infrared scope with a visible-lightblocking filter. Simply put, to Farley, anyone who had been in a time tunnel and whose atoms had been coated in its particular radiation would sparkle gently, as though coated with gold dust. It was a very handy way to keep an eye on someone without getting too close.

“Rosie, patch me through to the colonel,” he said into the microphone, his accent still English, as it had been in the Rams’ Hidey-Hole. Farley had been in character so long that he rarely came out of it.

“You sure?” said a voice in his earpiece, male in spite of the name. “He’s having a massage. You know what he’s like.”

Farley did indeed know what the colonel was like—no one knew it better, but he also knew that the colonel had asked to be kept up to date. In truth, Farley suspected that his superior was excited that something a little out of the ordinary was happening. This stage of the operation was all preparation, which was never very interesting, so this whole Agent Savano thing had put a little pep in everyone’s step.

“I am sure, Rosenbaum. Just put me through. I’m out in the open here, talking into my hand like a halfwit.”

“Connecting you now, Major.”

Farley held for a moment, watching Riley open the door to a theater that had seen better days.

The boy knew where the other key was, noted Farley, stepping into the archway of a butcher’s yard. Looks like he inherits the building.

His earpiece crackled as the colonel picked up the phone at his end.

“Hey, dude. How’s it going on the street?”

Farley winced. He hated it when the colonel tried to be casual and chummy: that was not how the army worked. And, at any rate, it was an act. The colonel had no friends.

“It’s fine, sir. On the streets. That situation we talked about is winding down. No need to deploy.”

The colonel chuckled and it sounded like a well-oiled engine purring. “Come on, Farley. Why are you speaking in code? Who’s going to be listening in? That clown Charismo barely managed to put a landline together. Telephonicus Farspeak? What a joke. Spell it out, Major.”

Farley took a breath. “Yessir, Colonel. Force of habit, sir. Never jeopardize the operation. Loose lips sink ships, and all that.”

“Just give me the facts, man. Where’s Garrick?”

“He’s gone, sir. Toast. I got the gist on the bug I planted in the boy’s bandage.”

“Gone?” The colonel sounded disappointed. “I liked him. He was a funny guy.”

Funny was not the word Farley would have chosen, especially when he remembered the assassin looming over him with a bottle of ether.

“The others?”

“The boy is here, in Holborn,” continued Farley. “And Agent Savano has entered the portal at Half Moon Street.”

“So, no damage done?”

“No, sir. We are still running dark. As far as the future is concerned, Charles Smart’s technology died with him, and we are on schedule.”

“What about Charismo? Is he still nicely placed where we can use him?”

Farley ground his teeth, never happy about delivering bad news to the colonel. “Not exactly, sir. The boy set him up for a fall with the duke. They saw the mutations. I imagine he’s getting lobotomized about now. I doubt he will have enough brain cells left to play fetch, Colonel.”

There was silence for a moment, except for the thump-slap of the colonel’s masseuse at work.

“I never liked that guy and his creepy masks anyway,” said the colonel at last. “We can work around him.”

Farley dropped his hand for a moment and sighed. A soldier never knew when the colonel would go off like an automatic weapon, spewing bile instead of bullets.

“What about the boy? Should I remove him from the equation?”

The colonel mulled this over. “No. That’s a plucky kid there. He could be useful, and I don’t want you to get caught with your hands wet.”

“Riley is a loose end, sir. And he could cause trouble.”

“We know where he is, correct?”

“Yessir.”

“And we can neutralize this Riley anytime we want, right?”

“Yes, we can. Easy as pie.”

“Well, then, Major. Let’s keep an eye on the boy for now. If he pokes his nose into anything remotely non-Victorian, then you pay him a midnight visit. How’s that sound?”

Farley stepped into the street and watched Riley’s form flit past a row of upstairs windows, his outline shining through the net curtains.

“That sounds fine, sir. He’s not going anywhere.”

“Good,” said the colonel. “Now put one of your men on the kid. I need you back at the Hidey-Hole so that Malarkey doesn’t get suspicious.”

“On my way, sir.”

Farley severed the connection and took one last look at the Orient Theatre.

“I’ll be seeing you, Riley,” he said to the glowing silhouette. “Real soon.”





Praise for Eoin Colfer’s ARTEMIS FOWL SERIES



Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian

“A fitting end to a brilliantly conceived and developed series.”



—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

Artemis Fowl: The Atlantis Complex

“Colfer keeps the action moving with laughs and gadgetry. . . . A treat for series fans.”



—Booklist

Artemis Fowl: The Time Paradox

“The author once again offers an exhilarating ride through the fantastical world of Artemis Fowl.”



—School Library Journal

Artemis Fowl: The Lost Colony

“Fast-paced, funny, and wholly enjoyable, the book is an action-packed thrill ride.”



—VOYA

Artemis Fowl: The Opal Deception

“This book is magical.”



—The Washington Post

Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code

“Agile prose, rapid-fire dialogue and wise-acre humor ensure that readers will burn the midnight oil to the finish.”

—Publishers Weekly

Artemis Fowl: The Arctic Incident



“The world that Colfer creates is as vivid and fantastical as any shire, Gotham, or galaxy far, far away in recent memory.” —Entertainment Weekly

Artemis Fowl

“Will grab your interest, no matter what your age.”

—The New York Post