He opened his eyes and saw the fresco on the ceiling above. He was back in his own room.
Artemis did not move for several moments. It wasn’t that he couldn’t move, it was just that lying here like this seemed utterly luxurious. There were no pixies after him, or trolls homing in on his scent, or fairy tribunals judging him. He could lie here and simply think. His favourite occupation.
Artemis Fowl had a big decision to make. Which way would his life go from here?
The decision was his. He could not blame circumstances or peer pressure. He was his own person, and intelligent enough to realize it.
The solitary life of crime no longer appealed to him as completely as it had. He had no desire to create victims. And yet there was still something about the thrill of executing a brilliant plan that attracted him. Maybe there was a way to combine his criminal genius with his new-found morals. Some people deserved to be stolen from. He could be like a modern-day Robin Hood: steal from the rich and give to the poor. Well, maybe just steal from the rich. One step at a time.
Something vibrated in his jacket pocket. Artemis reached in and pulled out a fairy communicator. One of the pair they had planted in Opal Koboi’s shuttle. Artemis had a vague memory of Holly sliding something into his pocket just before he passed out. She obviously wanted to stay in touch.
Artemis stood up, opening the device, and Holly’s smiling face appeared on the screen.
‘You got home safely, then. Sorry about the sedatives. Sool is a pig.’
‘Forget about it. No harm done.’
‘You have changed. Once upon a time, Artemis Fowl would have vowed revenge.’
Holly glanced around her. ‘Listen, I can’t stay on long. I had to bolt on a pirate booster to this thing, just to get a signal. This call is costing me a fortune. I need a favour.’
Artemis groaned. ‘No one ever calls me to say hello.’
‘Next time. I promise.’
‘I’ll hold you to it. What’s the favour?’
‘Mulch and I have our first client. He’s an art dealer who’s had a picture stolen.
Frankly, I’m flummoxed, so I thought I’d ask an expert.’
Artemis smiled. ‘I suppose I do have some expertise in the area of stolen art. Tell me what happened.’
‘The thing is. There’s no way in or out of this exhibition without detection. The painting is just gone. Not even warlocks have that kind of magic.’
Artemis heard footsteps on the stairs.
‘Hang on a second, Holly. Someone’s coming.’
Butler burst in through the door, pistol drawn.
‘I just woke up,’ he said. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Fine,’ said Artemis. ‘You can put that away.’
‘I was half hoping Sool was still here, so I could scare him a little.’ Butler crossed to the window, pulling aside the net curtains. ‘There’s a car coming up the avenue. It’s your parents back from the spa in Westmeath. We’d better get our stories straight. Why did we come home from Germany?’
Artemis thought quickly. ‘Let’s just say I felt homesick. I missed being my parents’ son. That’s true enough.’
Butler smiled. ‘I like that excuse. Hopefully you won’t need to use it again.’
‘I don’t intend to.’
Butler held out a rolled-up canvas. ‘And what about this? Have you decided what you should do with it?’
Artemis took The Fairy Thief, spreading it on the bed before him. It really was beautiful. ‘Yes, old friend. I have decided to do what I should do. Now, can you stall my parents at the door? I need to take this call.’
Butler nodded and ran down the stairs three at a time.
Artemis returned to the communicator.
‘Now, Holly, about your little problem. Have you considered the fact that the picture you seek may still be in the room, and our thief may have simply moved it?’
‘That’s the first thing I thought of. Come on, Artemis, you’re supposed to be a genius. Use your brain.’
Artemis scratched his chin. He was finding it difficult to concentrate. He heard tyres crunching on the drive, and then his mother’s voice laughing as she climbed from the car.
‘Arty?’ she called. ‘Come down. We need to see you.’
‘Come down, Arty boy,’ shouted his father. ‘Welcome us home.’
Artemis found that he was smiling. ‘Holly, can you call me back later? I’m busy right now.’
Holly tried to scowl. ‘OK. Five hours, and you’d better have some suggestions for me.’
‘Don’t worry, I will. And also my consultant’s bill.’
‘Some things never change,’ said Holly, and closed the link.
Artemis quickly locked the communicator in his room safe, then ran to the stairs.
His mother was at the bottom of the steps, and her arms were open wide.
Epilogue
AN ARTICLE FROM THE IRISH TIMES, BY EUGENE DRISCOLL, CULTURE CORRESPONDENT
Last week the art world was left reeling following the discovery of a lost painting by Pascal Herve, the French Impressionist master. The rumoured existence of The Fairy Thief (oil on canvas) was confirmed when the painting was sent to the Louvre gallery in Paris. Someone, presumably an art lover, actually used the regular mail service to post the priceless masterpiece to the curator. The authenticity of the work has been confirmed by six independent experts.
A spokesman for the Louvre has stated that the picture will be exhibited within the next month. So, for the first time in almost a century, everyday art lovers will be able to enjoy Herve’s masterpiece.
But perhaps the most tantalizing part of this whole affair is the typed note that came with The Fairy Thief. The note read simply — More to follow.
Is someone out there reclaiming lost or stolen masters for the people? If so, collectors beware. No secret vault is safe. This correspondent waits with bated breath. More to follow. Art lovers all over the world certainly hope so!
2005 year
