The Arctic Incident

“Right here.”


Again the cold chuckle. “All I see is a fat imbecile, a little rat, and someone with a hood over his head. It could be anyone. I’m not paying five million for your cousin Yuri.”

Vassikin ducked below the lip of the tower. “Fowl can see us!” he hissed at Kamar. “Stay low.”

Kamar scuttled to the far side of the tower, opening a line to his men. “He’s here. Fowl is here. Search the area.”

Vassikin brought the phone back to his ear. “So come down here and check. You’ll see soon enough.”

“I can see fine from right here. Just take the hood off.”

Mikhael covered the phone. “He wants me to take the hood off. What should I do?”

Kamar sighed. Now it was becoming plain who was the brains in this outfit. “Take it off. What difference does it make? Either way they’re both dead in five minutes.”

“Okay, Fowl. I’m taking off the hood. The next face you see will be your father’s.” The big Russian propped up the prisoner high over the lip of the conning tower. He reached up with one hand and pulled off the rough sackcloth hood.

On the other end of the line, he heard a sharp intake of breath.

Through the filters of his borrowed LEP helmet, Artemis could see the conning tower as though it were three feet away. The hood came off, and he could not supress a sharp gasp.

It was his father. Different, certainly. But not beyond recognition. Artemis Fowl the First, without a shadow of a doubt.

“Well,” said a Russian voice in his ear. “Is it him?”

Artemis struggled to stop his voice from shaking. “Yes,” he said. “It is him. Congratulations. You have an item of some value.”

In the conning tower, Vassikin gave his partner the thumbs-up.

“It’s him. We’re in the money.”

Kamar didn’t share his confidence. There would be no celebrating until the cash was in his hand.

Butler steadied the fairy Farshoot rifle on its stand. He had selected it from the LEP armory. Fifteen hundred yards. Not an easy shot. But there was no wind, and Foaly had given him a scope that did the aiming for him. Artemis Fowl senior’s torso was centered in the crosshairs.

He took a breath.“Artemis. Are you sure? This is risky.”

Artemis did not reply, checking for the hundredth time that Holly was in position. Of course he wasn’t sure. A million things could go wrong with this deception, but what choice did he have?

Artemis nodded. Just once.

Butler fired the shot.

The shot caught Artemis Senior in the shoulder. He spun around, slumping over the startled Vassikin.

The Russian howled in disgust, heaving the bleeding Irishman over the lip of the conning tower. Artemis Senior slid along the keel, crashing through the brittle ice plates clinging to the sub’s hull.

“He shot him,” yelped the khuligany. “That devil shot his own father.”

Kamar was stunned.

“Idiot!” he howled. “You’ve just thrown our hostage overboard!” He peered into the black Arctic waters. Nothing remained of the Irlandskii but ripples.

“Go down and get him, if you wish,” said Vassikin sullenly.

“Was he dead?”

His partner shrugged. “Maybe. He was bleeding badly. And if the bullet doesn’t finish him, the water will. Anyway, it’s not our fault.”

Kamar swore viciously. “I don’t think Britva will see it that way.”

“Britva,” breathed Vassikin. The only thing the Menidzher understood was money.

“Oh, gods. We’re dead.”

The cell phone rattled on the deck. The speaker was vibrating. Fowl was still on the other end. Mikhael picked up the mobile as though it were a grenade.

“Fowl? You there?”

“Yes,” came the reply.

“You crazy devil! What are you doing? Your father is as good as dead. I thought we had a deal!”

“We still do. A new one. You can still make some money tonight.”

Mikhael stopped panicking, and started paying attention. Could there possibly be a way out of this nightmare?

“I’m listening.”

“The last thing I need is for my father to return and destroy what I have built up over the past two years.”

Mikhael nodded. This made perfect sense to him.

“So he had to die. I had to see it done myself, just to be sure. But I could still leave you a little something.”

Mikhael could barely breath. “A little something?”

“The ransom. All five million.”

“And why would you do that?”

“You get the money; I get safe passage home. Fair enough?”

“Seems fair to me.”

“Very well. Now look across the bay, above the fjord.”

Mikhael looked. There was a flare burning, right at the snow-covered hill’s tip.

“There is a briefcase tied to that flare. It goes out in ten minutes. I’d get there before then if I were you. Otherwise the case could take years to find.”

Mikhael didn’t bother to cut the connection. He just dropped the phone and ran.