Artemis had one eye on the perspex tube. And how is Father?
He is wonderful, gushed Angeline. I am surprised how well he is. That prosthetic leg of his is marvellous, and so is his outlook. He never complains. I honestly think that he has got a better attitude towards life now than he had before he lost his leg. Hes under the care of a remarkable therapist. He says the mental is far more important than the physical. In fact, we leave for the private spa in Westmeath this evening. They use this marvellous seaweed treatment, which should do wonders for your fathers muscles.
Artemis Fowl Senior had lost a leg before his kidnap by the Russian Mafiya. Luckily Artemis had been able to rescue him with Butlers help. It had been an eventful year. Since Artemis Seniors return, he had been making good on his promise to turn over a new leaf and go straight. Artemis Junior was expected to follow suit but was having trouble abandoning his criminal ventures. Although sometimes, when he looked at his father and mother together, the idea of being a normal son to loving parents didnt seem such a far-fetched one.
Is he doing his physiotherapy exercises twice a day?
Anpeline laughed again, and suddenly Artemis wished he were home.
Yes, Grandad. I am making sure of that. Your father says hell run the marathon in twelve months.
Good, Im glad to hear it. Sometimes I think you two would spend your time wandering around the grounds, holding hands, if I didnt check up on you.
His mother sighed, a rush of static through the speaker. Im worried about you, Arty. Someone your age shouldnt be quite so responsible. Dont worry about us, worry about school and friends. Think about what you really want to do. Use that big brain of yours to make yourself and other people happy. Forget the family business, living is the family business now.
Artemis didnt know how to reply. Half of him wanted to point out that there really would be no family business if it werent for him secretly safeguarding it. The other half of him wanted to get on a plane home and wander the grounds with his family.
His mother sighed again. Artemis hated the fact that just talking to him could make her worry.
When will you be home, Arty?
The trip ends in three more days.
I mean, when will you be home for good? I know Saint Bartlebys is a family tradition, but we want you home with us. Principal Guiney will understand. There are plenty of good day schools locally.
I see, said Artemis. Could he do it? he wondered. Just be part of a normal family. Abandon his criminal enterprises. Was it in him to live an honest life? The holidays are in a couple of weeks. We can talk then, he said. Delaying tactics. To be honest, I cant concentrate now. Im not feeling very well. I thought I might have food poisoning, but it turns out to be just a twenty-four-hour bug. The local doctor says I will be fine tomorrow.
Poor Arty, crooned Angeline. Maybe I should put you on a plane home.
No, Mother. Im feeling better already. Honestly.
Whatever you like. I know bugs are uncomfortable, but its better than a dose of food poisoning. You could have been laid low for weeks. Drink plenty of water, and try to sleep.
I will, Mother.
Youll be home soon.
Yes. Tell Father I called.
I will, if I can find him. Hes in the gym, I think, on the treadmill.
Goodbye, then.
Bye, Arty, well talk more about this on your return, said Angeline, her voice low and slightly sad. Sounding very far away.
Artemis ended the call and immediately replayed it on his computer. Every time he spoke to his mother he felt guilty. Angeline Fowl had a way of awakening his conscience. This was a relatively new development. A year ago he might have felt a tiny pinprick of guilt at lying to his mother, but now even this minor trick he was about to play would haunt his thoughts for weeks.
Artemis watched the sound-wave meter on his computer screen. He was changing, no doubt about it. This kind of self-doubt had been increasing over the past several months ever since he had discovered mysterious mirrored contact lenses in his own eyes one morning. Butler and Juliet had been wearing the same lenses. They had tried to find out where the lenses came from, but all that Butlers contact in that field would say was that Artemis himself had paid for them. Curiouser and curiouser.
The lenses remained a mystery. And so did Artemiss feelings. On the table before him was Herves The Fairy Thief, an acquisition that established him as the foremost thief of the age, a status he had longed for since the age of six. But now that his ambition was literally in his grasp, all he could think about was his family.