The two men collected the prisoner from the next cabin. They were not worried about an escape attempt. Not with one leg missing and a hood secured over his head. Vassikin slung Fowl Senior over his shoulder and climbed the rungs to the conning tower.
Kamar used a radio to check in with the back-up. There were over a hundred criminals hiding among the petrified bushes and snowdrifts. Cigarette tips lit the night like fireflies.
‘Put those cigarettes out, idiots,’ he hissed over an open frequency. ‘It’s almost midnight. Fowl could be here any second. Remember, no one shoots until I give the order. Then everybody shoots.’
You could almost hear the hiss as a hundred cigarette butts were flicked into the snow. A hundred men. It was a costly operation. But a mere drop in the ocean compared to the twenty per cent promised them by Britva.
Wherever this boy Fowl came from, he would be trapped in a deadly crossfire. There was no way out for him or his father, while he and Vassikin were safe behind the steel conning tower.
Kamar grinned. Let’s see how much magic you have then, Irlanskii.
Holly surveyed the scene through the hi-res night-sight filter in her helmet with the eyes of a seasoned Recon officer. Butler was stuck with plain old binoculars.
‘How many cigarettes did you count?’
‘More than eighty,’ replied the captain. ‘Could be up to a hundred men.
You walk in there and you’ll be carried out.’
Root nodded in agreement. It was a tactical nightmare.
They were bivouacked on the opposite side of the fjord, high on a sloped hill. The Council had even approved wings, on account of Artemis’s recent services.
Foaly had done a mail retrieval from Artemis’s computer and found a message: Five million US. The Nikodim. Murmansk. Midnight on the fourteenth. It was short and to the point. What else was there to say? They had missed their opportunity to snatch Artemis Senior before he was moved to the drop point, and now the Mafiya were in control.
They gathered around while Butler sketched a diagram in the snow with a laser pointer.
‘I would guess that the target is being held here, in the conning tower.To get there, you’ve got to walk all the way along the sub. They’ve got a hundred men hiding out around the perimeter. We have no air support, no satellite information and minimal weaponry.’ Butler sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Artemis. I just don’t see it.’
Holly knelt to study the diagram.’A time-stop would take days to set up.
We can’t shield either because of the radiation, and there’s no way to get close enough to mesmerize.’
‘What about LEP weaponry?’ asked Artemis, though he knew the answer.
Root chewed an unlit cigar. ‘We discussed this, Artemis. We have as much firepower as you like, but if we start blasting, your father will be their first target. Standard kidnapping rules.’
Artemis pulled an LEP field parka closer to his throat, staring at the rough diagram. ‘And if we give them the money?’
Foaly had run them up five million in small bills on one of his old printers. He had even had a squad of sprites crumple it up a bit.
Butler shook his head. ‘That’s not the way these people do business.
Alive, Mister Fowl is a potential enemy. He has to die.’
Artemis nodded slowly. There was absolutely no other way. He would have to implement the plan he had concocted in the Arctic shuttle port.
‘Very well, everyone,’ he said. ‘I have a plan. But it’s going to sound a bit extreme.’
Mikhael Vassikin’s mobile phone rang, shattering the Arctic silence.
Vassikin almost fell down the tower hatch.
‘Da? What is it? I’m busy.’
‘This is Fowl,’ said a voice in flawless Russian, colder than Arctic pack ice. ‘It’s midnight. I’m here.’
Mikhael swung around, scanning the surroundings through his binoculars.
‘Here? Where? I don’t see anything.’
‘Close enough.’
‘How did you get this number?’
A chuckle rattled through the speakers. The sound set Vassikin’s fillings on edge.
‘I know someone. He has all the numbers.’
Mikhael took deep breaths, settling himself. ‘Do you have the money?’
‘Of course. Do you have the package?’
‘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.’
‘OK, 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 a metre away. The hood came off, and he could not suppress 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,’ he hissed. ‘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 Far shoot rifle on its stand. He had selected it from the LEP armoury. Fifteen hundred metres. 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 centred in the crosshair.
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 Irlanskii but ripples.
‘Go down and get him, if you wish,’ said Vassikin sullenly.
‘Was he dead?’
His partner shrugged. ‘Maybe. He was bleeding bad. And if the bullet doesn’t finish him, the water will. Anyway, it’s not our fault.’
