Eoin Colfer - Artemis Fowl Book 5 The Lost Colony

HAPPYwas not a word often used to describe Artemis Fowl's bodyguard. Jollyand contented were also words that were rarely applied to him or topeople in his immediate vicinity. Butler did not get to be one of themost dangerous men in the world by chatting with anyone who happenedto stroll past, unless the chat concerned exit routes and concealedweapons.

On this particular afternoon Butler and Artemis were in Spain, andthe bodyguard's Eurasian features were even more taciturn than normal.His young charge was, as usual, making Butler's job more complicatedthan it needed to be. Artemis had insisted that they stand on thesidewalk of Barcelona's Passeig de Gratia for over an hour in theafternoon sun with only a few slender trees to provide them with coverfrom the heat or possible enemies.

This was the fourth unexplained trip to foreign locations in asmany months. First Edinburgh, then Death Valley in the American West,followed by an extremely arduous trek to doubly landlocked Uzbekistan.And now Barcelona. All to wait for a mysterious visitor, who had not asyet made an appearance.

They made an odd couple on the busy pathway. A huge, muscular man:forties, Hugo Boss suit, shaven head. And a slight teenager: pale,raven-haired with large piercing blue-black eyes.

'Why must you circle so, Butler?' asked Artemis, irritated. He knewthe answer to his own question, but according to his calculations, theexpected visitor to Barcelona was a minute late, and he allowed hisannoyance to transfer to the bodyguard.

'You know perfectly well why, Artemis,' replied Butler. 'In casethere is a sniper or an audio-tech on one of the rooftops. I amcircling to provide the maximum cover.'

Artemis was in the mood to demonstrate his genius. This was a moodin which he frequently found himself. And as satisfying as thesedemonstrations were for the fourteen-year-old Irish boy, they could beintensely irritating for anyone on the receiving end.

'Firstly, it is hardly likely that there is a sniper gunning

for me,' he said. 'I have liquidated eighty per cent of my illegalventures and spread the capital across an extremely lucrativeportfolio. Secondly, any audio-tech trying to eavesdrop on us may aswell pack up and go home as the third button on your jacket is emittinga Solinium pulse that whites out any surveillance tape, human or fairy.'

Butler glanced at a passing couple, who were bewitched by Spain andyoung love. The man had a camcorder slung round his neck. Butlerfingered his third button guiltily.

'We may have ruined a few honeymoon videos,' he noted.

Artemis shrugged. 'A small price to pay for my privacy.'

'Was there a third point?' asked Butler innocently.

'Yes,' said Artemis, a touch testily. Still no sign of theindividual he was expecting. 'I was about to say that if there is agunman on one of these buildings, it's that one directly to the rear.So you should stay behind me.'

Butler was the best bodyguard in the business, and even he couldn'tbe a hundred per cent sure which rooftop a potential gunman would be on.

'Go on. Tell me how you know. I know you're dying to.'

'Very well, since you ask. No sniper would position himself on therooftop of Casa Mila, directly across the street, because it is open tothe public and so his access and escape would probably be recorded.'

'His or her,' corrected Butler. 'Most metal men are women thesedays.' 'His or her,' amended Artemis. 'The two buildings on the rightare somewhat screened by foliage, so why handicap yourself?'

'Very good. Go on.'

'The cluster behind us to the left is a group of financial buildingswith private security stickers on the windows. A professional willavoid any confrontation he is not being paid for.'

Butler nodded. It was true.

'And so, I logically conclude that your imaginary sniper would pickthe four-storey construction to our rear. It is residential, so accessis easy. The roof affords him or her a direct line of fire, and thesecurity is possibly dismal and more than likely non-existent.'

Butler snorted. Artemis was probably right. But in the protection game, probably wasn't nearly as comforting as a Kevlar vest.

'You're probably right,' admitted the bodyguard. 'But only if the sniper is as smart as you are.'

'Good point,' said Artemis.

'And I imagine you could put together a convincing argument for anyone of these buildings. You just picked that one to keep me out of yourline of vision, which leads me to believe that whoever you're expectingwill turn up outside Casa Mila.

Artemis smiled. 'Well done, old friend.'

Casa Mila was an early twentieth-century dwelling designed by theSpanish art nouveau architect Antonio Gaudi. The facade consisted ofcurved walls and balconies topped by twisted ironworks. The walkwayoutside the building was thronged with tourists, lining up for theafternoon tour of the spectacular house.

'Will we recognize our visitor among all these people? Are you sure that he is not already here? Watching us?'

Artemis smiled and his eyes glittered. 'Believe me, he is not here. If he were, there would be a lot more screaming.'

Butler scowled. Once, just once, he would like to get all the factsbefore they boarded the jet. But that wasn't the way Artemis worked. Tothe young Irish genius, the reveal was the most important part of hisschemes.

'At least tell me if our contact will be armed.'

'I doubt it,' said Artemis. 'And even if he is, he won't be with us for more than a second.'

'A second? Just beaming down through outer space, is he?'

'Not space, old friend,' said Artemis, checking his wristwatch.'Time.' The boy sighed. 'Anyway, the moment has passed. It seems asthough I have brought us here for nothing. Our visitor has notmaterialized. The chances were slim. Obviously there was nobody at theother end of the rift.'

Butler didn't know what rift Artemis was referring to, he was simplyrelieved to be leaving this insecure location. The sooner they couldget back to Barcelona Airport the better.

The bodyguard pulled a mobile phone from his pocket and hit a numberon the speed dial. The person on the other end picked up on the firstring.

'Maria,' said Butler. 'Collection, pronto.'

'Si,' replied Maria tersely. Maria worked for an exclusive Spanishlimousine company. She was extremely pretty and could break a breezeblock with her forehead.

'Was that Maria?' said Artemis, mimicking casual conversation perfectly.

Butler was not fooled. Artemis Fowl rarely asked casual questions.

'Yes, that was Maria. You could tell because I used her name when Ispoke to her. You don't usually ask so many questions about the limodriver. That's four in the past fifteen minutes. Will Maria be pickingus up? Where do you think Maria is right now? How old do you thinkMaria is?'

Artemis rubbed his temples. 'It's this blasted puberty, Butler.Every time I see a pretty girl, I waste valuable mind space thinkingabout her. That girl at the restaurant for instance. I've glanced inher direction a dozen times in the past few minutes.'

Butler gave the pretty girl in question an automatic bodyguard's once-over.

She was twelve or thirteen, did not appear to be armed

and had a mane of tight blonde curls. The girl was studiouslyworking her way through a selection of tapas while a male guardian,perhaps her father, read the paper. There was another man at the tablewho was struggling to stow a set of crutches under his chair. Butlerjudged that the girl was not a direct threat to their safety, thoughindirectly she could cause trouble if Artemis was unable to concentrateon his plan.