Artemis Fowl_ The Arctic Incident - Eoin Colfer [79]
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 Farshoot 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.’
Kamar swore viciously. ‘I don