Artemis Fowl_ The Arctic Incident - Eoin Colfer [1]
It’s a pity most of them were trying to kill him.
Report compiled by: Doctor J. Argon, B. Psych, for the LEP Academy files.
PROLOGUE
MURMANSK, NORTHERN RUSSIA, TWO YEARS AGO
THE two Russians huddled around a flaming barrel in a futile attempt to ward off the Arctic chill. The Bay of Kola was not a place you wanted to be after September, especially not Murmansk. In Murmansk even the polar bears wore scarves. Nowhere was colder, except perhaps Noril’sk.
The men were Mafiya enforcers and were more used to spending their evenings inside stolen BMWs. The larger of the two, Mikhael Vassikin, checked the fake Rolex beneath the sleeve of his fur coat.
‘This thing could freeze up,’ he said, tapping the diving bezel. ‘What am I going to do with it then?’
‘Stop your complaining,’ said the one called Kamar. ‘It’s your fault we’re stuck outside in the first place.’
Vassikin paused. ‘Pardon me?’
‘Our orders were simple: sink the Fowl Star. All you had to do was blow the cargo bay. It was a big enough ship, heaven knows. Blow the cargo bay and down she goes. But no, the great Vassikin hits the stern. Not even a back-up rocket to finish the job. So now we have to search for survivors.’
‘She sank, didn’t she?’
Kamar shrugged. ‘So what? She sank slowly, plenty of time for the passengers to grab on to something. Vassikin, the famous sharpshooter! My grandmother could shoot better.’
Lyubkhin, the Mafiya’s man on the docks, approached before the discussion could develop into an all-out brawl.
‘How are things?’ asked the bear-like Yakut.
Vassikin spat over the quay wall. ‘How do you think? Did you find anything?’
‘Dead fish and broken crates,’ said the Yakut, offering both enforcers a steaming mug. ‘Nothing alive. It’s been over eight hours now. I have good men searching all the way down to Green Cape.’
Kamar drank deeply, then spat in disgust. ‘What is this stuff? Pitch?’
Lyubkhin laughed. ‘Hot cola. From the Fowl Star. It’s coming ashore by the crate-load. Tonight we are truly on the Bay of Kola.’
‘Be warned,’ said Vassikin, spilling the liquid on to the snow. ‘This weather is souring my temper. So no more terrible jokes. It’s enough that I have to listen to Kamar.’
‘Not for much longer,’ muttered his partner. ‘One more sweep and we call off the search. Nothing could survive these waters for eight hours.’
Vassikin held out his empty cup. ‘Don’t you have something stronger? A shot of vodka to ward off the cold? I know you always keep a flask hidden somewhere.’
Lyubkhin reached for his hip pocket, but stopped when the walkie-talkie on his belt began to emit static. Three short bursts.
‘Three squawks. That’s the signal.’
‘The signal for what?’
Lyubkhin hurried down the docks, shouting back over his shoulder. ‘Three squawks on the radio. It means that the K9 unit has found someone.’
The survivor was not Russian. That much was obvious from his clothes. Everything, from the designer suit to the leather overcoat, had obviously been purchased in Western Europe, perhaps even America. They were tailored to fit, and made from the highest-quality material.
Though the man’s clothes were relatively intact, his body had not fared so well. His bare feet and hands were mottled with frostbite. One leg hung strangely limp below the knee, and his face was a horrific mask of burns.
The search crew had carried him from a ravine three klicks south of the harbour on a makeshift tarpaulin stretcher. The men crowded around their prize, stamping their feet against the cold that invaded their boots. Vassikin elbowed his way through the gathering, kneeling for a closer look.
‘He’ll lose the leg for sure,’ he noted. ‘A couple of fingers too. The face doesn’t look too good either.’
‘Thank you, Doctor Mikhael,’ commented Kamar drily. ‘Any ID?’
Vassikin conducted a quick thief’s search. Wallet and watch.
‘Nothing. That’s odd. You’d think a rich man like this would have some personal effects, wouldn’t you?’
Kamar nodded. ‘Yes, I would.’ He turned to the circle of men. ‘Ten seconds, then there’ll be trouble. Keep the currency,