Eoin Colfer - Artemis Fowl and the Atlantis Complex

Barnet checked on a pitcher of toad sludge that he was fermenting for the pixies.

“You are a riot, Tombstone. Do you know that?”

Before Tombstone could answer, a plastic parrot on the bar opened its beak and squawked.

“New post,” squawked its animatronic mouth. “New post on the message board.”

“Excuuuuuse me,” said Barnet Riddles, with exaggerated politeness, “while I check this extremely handy implant I have in my head.”

“Handy, until you pass a microwave and lose ten years of memory,” commented Tombstone. “Then again, you spend so much time in here that you probably wouldn’t miss the odd decade.”

Barnet was not listening. His eyes fogged over as he checked the illegal implant that had been hotwired directly into his cortex by a disbarred doctor. After a couple of “ hmmms ” and one “ really ,” he returned to the here and now.

“How are the brain cells?” enquired Tombstone mildly. “I hope the message was worth it.”

“Don’t you worry about it, Mr. Hundred Percent Legit,” said Barnet briskly. “This one is for us criminals.”

He pounded the bar with his buzz baton, sending sparks rippling across the length of the brass rail.

“Cruik,” he called across the room. “You have a ship? Right?”

One of the dwarfs at the end booth raised a grizzled head. Beer foam fell in blobs from his beard. “Yeah. I got a gyro. A bit of a crock, but she runs okay.”

Barnet clapped his hands, already counting his commission. “Good. A job came in on the board. Two humans, kill ’em dead.”

Cruik shook his head slowly. “No killing dead. We may be criminals but we’re not humans.”

“The client will accept a full wipe. Can you stomach that?”

“Full wipe?” interrupted Tombstone. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Barnet sniggered. “Not if you keep your fingers away from the electrodes. Two humans, brother and sister by the name of Butler.”

Tombstone twitched. “Butler? Brother and sister?”

Barnet closed one eye, consulting his implant. “Yeah. I’m shooting the details across to your gyro, Cruik. This is a rush job. Top dollar, as the Mud Men would say.”

The dwarf called Cruik checked the charge in an old-fashioned blunderbuss Neutrino.

“These Mud Men won’t be saying much of anything by the time I’m finished with them.” He pounded the table to summon his warriors. “Let’s go, my fine fellows. We have brains to suck.”

Tombstone stood quickly. “Do you guys have room for one more?”

“I knew it,” chuckled Barnet Riddles. “One hundred percent legit, I don’t think so. As soon as I laid eyes on you, ‘This guy has history,’ I said.”

Cruik was buckling on a belt loaded with spikes, shells, and dangerous-looking implements with fuses and capacitors.

“Why should I take you, stranger?”

“You should take me because if your pilot gets killed to death by these Butler humans, then I can take his place.”

An uncharacteristically skinny dwarf looked up from the romance novel he was reading. “Killed to death?” he said, lip trembling slightly. “I say, Cruik, is that likely?”

“I’ve had experience with the Butlers,” said Tombstone. “They always go for the pilot first.”

Cruik sized up Tombstone, taking in his powerful jaws and muscled legs.

“Okay stranger. You take the copilot’s chair. You get a junior share and no quibbling.”

Tombstone grinned. “Why quibble now when we can quibble later?”

Cruik thought about this statement for a moment until his brain ached.

“Okay. Whatever. Everybody take a sober pill and mount up. We have some humans to wipe.”

Tombstone followed his new captain across the bar floor. “How good is your mind-wiping equipment?”

Cruik shrugged. “Who cares?” he said simply.

“I like your attitude,” said Tombstone.

Cancún, Mexico; Now

The Butlers in question were of course the very same Butlers who had escaped the mesmerized wrestling fans, and who were now, thirty minutes after Cruik took on his new copilot, taking a moment to catch their breath in the morning sunshine on the shore of Cancún’s lagoon. These two were being pursued by Turnball Root more for his own entertainment than the possibility that they could actually interfere with his plans. Though it was possible that opponents as formidable as the Butlers had proved themselves to be troublesome. And Turnball’s plans were delicate enough without adding troublesome humans to the mix. Better to wipe them, at least. Also, they had escaped the first time, so Turnball was irked, which he did not like.

Juliet squatted just above the waterline, listening to the sounds of party laughter and the tinkling of champagne flutes stream across the water from a passing yacht. “I have an idea, brother,” she said. “Why don’t we ask Artemis for a million dollars and just retire? Well, I could retire. You could be my butler.”

Butler sat beside her. “Frankly, I don’t think Artemis has a million dollars. He’s put everything into this latest project. THE PROJECT , as he calls it.”

“What’s he stealing now?”

“Nothing. Artemis has moved on from crime. These days he’s saving the world.”

Juliet’s arm froze halfway through the motion of throwing a pebble. “Artemis Fowl has moved on from crime? Our Artemis Fowl? Isn’t that against Fowl family law?”

Butler didn’t exactly smile, but his scowl definitely grew less pronounced. “This is hardly the time for jokes, sister.” He paused. “But if you must know, the Fowl statutes actually state that a family member caught straying onto the straight and narrow can have his Doctor Evil manual and suction cups confiscated.”

Juliet snickered. “Suction cups.”

Butler’s customary scowl quickly reasserted itself. “Seriously, sister. This is a sinister situation we find ourselves in. Pursued by fairy agents and on the far side of the world from my principal.”

“What are you even doing here? Who sent you on this wild-goose chase?”

Butler had been thinking about this. “Artemis sent me. He must have been coerced, though it didn’t seem so. Perhaps he was tricked.”

“Tricked? Artemis Fowl? He has changed.”

Butler frowned, patting the spot where his shoulder holster would normally hang. “Artemis has changed. You would barely recognize him now, he is so different.”

“Different? How?”

Butler’s frown deepened, a slash between his eyebrows. “He counts everything. Steps, words, everything. I think five is the big number. Also, rows. He groups all the stuff around him into little rows. Usually five per row, or ten.”

“I’ve heard about stuff like that. Obsessive-compulsive disorder. OCD.”

“And he’s paranoid. He doesn’t trust anyone.” Butler’s head dropped to his chest. “Not even me.”

Juliet tossed the pebble far into the lagoon. “It sounds like Artemis needs help.”

Butler nodded. “How about you? You’ve had quite a bit sprung on you in the past hour.”

Juliet raked the shoreline with her fingers, gathering pebbles. “What? You mean little things like being chased by a mesmerized horde? And the fact that fairies do exist? Those tiny things?”

Butler grunted. He had forgotten how much his sister made fun of him and how he, for some reason, put up with it. “Yes, those tiny things,” he said, elbowing her fondly.

“Don’t worry about me, brother. I’m a modern woman. We’re tough and smart, hadn’t you heard?”

“I get it. You’re coping , is that it?”

“No, brother. I feel fine. The Butlers are together, and nothing can stand against us.”