The Arctic Incident

“That’s good to know,” said Artemis “Is it the right decision?” Artemis considered it. “Yes. The People are safe from me.” “Good. Because a large section of the Council wanted you mind-wiped. And with a chunk of memory that big, your IQ could take a bit of a dip.” Butler extended a hand. “Well, Captain. I don’t suppose I’ll see you again.” Holly shook it. “If you do, it’ll be too late.” She turned toward the fairy fort. “I had better go. It will be light soon. I don’t want to be caught unshielded on a spy satellite. The last thing I need is my photo all over the Internet, not when I’ve just been reinstated at Recon.”


Butler elbowed his employer gently. “Oh, Holly . . . eh, Captain Short.” Eh? Artemis couldn’t believe he’d actually said eh. It wasn’t even a word. “Yes, Mud B . . . yes, Artemis?” Artemis looked Holly in the eye, just as Butler had instructed him to. This being civil business was more difficult than one would think. “I would like to ... I mean ...what I mean is ...” Another elbow from Butler. “Thank you. I owe you everything. Because of you I have my parents. And the way you flew that craft was nothing short of spectacular. And on the train . . . well, I could never have done what you . . .”

A third elbow. This time to stop the babbling. “Sorry. Well, you get the idea.”

Holly’s elfin features wore a strange expression. Somewhere between embarrassment, and could it possibly be, delight? She recovered quickly.

“Maybe I owe you something too, human,” she said, drawing her pistol. Butler almost reacted, but decided to give Holly the benefit of the doubt.

Captain Short plucked a gold coin from her belt, flicking it fifty feet into the moonlit sky. With one fluid movement, she brought her weapon up and loosed a single blast. The coin rose another fifty feet, then spun earthward. Artemis somehow managed to snatch it from the air. The first cool moment of his young life.

“Nice shot,” he said. The previously solid disk now had a tiny hole in the center.

Holly held out her hand, revealing the still raw scar on her finger. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have missed altogether. No mech-digit can replicate that kind of accuracy. So, thank you too, I suppose.”

Artemis held out the coin.

“No,” said Holly. “You keep it, to remind you.”

“To remind me?”

Holly stared at him frankly. “To remind you that deep beneath the layers of deviousness, you have a spark of decency. Perhaps you could blow on that spark occasionally.”

Artemis closed his fingers around the coin. It was warm against his palm.

“Yes, perhaps.”

A small two-seater plane buzzed overhead. Artemis glanced skyward, and when he looked back, Holly was gone. A slight heat haze hovered above the grass.

“Good-bye, Holly,” he said softly.

The Bentley started on the first turn of the key. In less than an hour they arrived at Saint Bartleby’s main gate.

“Make sure your phone’s switched on,” Butler said, holding the door. “The Helsinki officials should be getting the results of their trace from Interpol soon. Your father’s file has been reactivated in their mainframe, thanks, once again, to Foaly.”

Artemis nodded, checking that his phone was activated. “Try to locate Mother and Juliet before the news comes through. I don’t want to be hunting through every spa in the south of France looking for them.”

“Yes, Artemis.”

“And check that my accounts are well hidden. No need for father to know exactly what I’ve been up to for the past two years.”

Butler smiled. “Yes, Artemis.”

Artemis took a few steps toward the school gates, then turned.

“And, Butler, one more thing. In the Arctic . . .”

Artemis couldn’t ask, but his bodyguard knew the answer anyway.

“Yes, Artemis,” he said gently. “You did the right thing. It was the only way.”

Artemis nodded, standing by the gates until the Bentley had disappeared down the avenue. From this moment on, life would be different. With two parents in the manor, his schemes would have to be much more carefully planned. Yes, he owed it to the People to leave them alone for a while, but Mulch Diggums—that was a different matter. So many secure facilities, so little time.





Counselor’s Office, Saint Bartleby’s School for Young Gentlemen


Not only was Dr. Po still employed at Saint Bartleby’s, but he seemed to have been fortified by his break from Artemis. His other patients were relatively straightforward cases of anger management, exam stress, and chronic shyness. And that was just the teachers.

Artemis settled onto the couch, taking care not to accidentally press the power button on his mobile.

Dr. Po nodded at his computer. “Dean Guiney forwarded me your e-mail. Charming.”

“I’m sorry about that,” muttered Artemis, surprised to find that he actually was sorry. Upsetting other people didn’t usually bother him. “I was in denial. So, I projected my anxieties onto you.”

Po half chuckled. “Yes, very good. Just what it says in the book.”

“I know,” said Artemis. And he did know. Dr. F. Roy Dean Schlippe had contributed a chapter to that particular book.

Dr. Po laid down his pen, something he had never done before.

“You know, we still haven’t resolved that last issue.”

“Which issue is that, Doctor?”

“The one we touched on at our last session. About respect?”

“Ah, that issue.”