Chapter Text
It was already late afternoon but a few stragglers could still be seen returning to work from lunch. Overall traffic was little and the sidewalks clear, mostly. Alex Rider was one of twenty British schoolchildren, each carrying or pulling luggage behind them, crossing the street to an eight-storey hotel. He had packed light since it would be only a three night stay in Munich before they returned to London. The group was here for the European Schools Fair, and although Alex had been a last-minute addition to the party he was glad he had gotten to join. It would be good for him, as he settled back into normal life, especially after his most recent brush with death while working with both MI6 and the Australian Secret Intelligence Service.
Alex had been out of the hospital for a week now. That in itself was an enormous achievement. For the past nine months he’d frequently been made to wonder — with all the injuries, beatings, and being shot at — if he would survive to the year’s end. Somehow his life had managed to become increasingly dangerous since his uncle’s death in March, until the most recent mission after which Alex had resolved never to get involved with intelligence work again. No more recruitment. No more missions. He had definitively turned down the offer of future employment with MI6.
Although he had fully agreed to his last mission, it was in no small part due to the ASIS’s obvious yet effective manipulation. Moreover, its bitter end had shown Alex that there was nothing more for him in that world. To meet and be betrayed by a godfather he never knew he had, all within a month, made him realize no one would ever give him the answers he had been looking for. Everyone who could was dead. His parents, his uncle, and finally his godfather. Funnily enough he could also include Yassen Gregorovitch, a hired assassin and his father’s ex-coworker, on that list. Yassen had actually been the first to send Alex searching after the past but was himself now also history. Alex would have to figure out who he was without anyone’s help. The one upside was the relief that came with knowing he would never be called on for spywork again.
Alex followed his class through the hotel’s double doors and into the lobby. It was modest in both size and décor, but clean. The colour scheme seemed to be mainly fern and white, with amber sprinkled around. It was also empty, aside from themselves and the receptionist at the desk. Still the group was immediately ushered over to the side by the chaperone, Mr Donovan, so as not to impede a nonexistent flow of traffic while rooming arrangements were decided.
Alex saw a man slip into the stairwell. He had thought the lobby was empty but apparently he had been mistaken. Strange, though, because he would have noticed someone passing, and there was nowhere else in the room the man could have come from. No one had been in the seating area or at the desk. He was only half paying attention as Mr Donovan paired everyone up for room assignments. When Alex looked back he found that he had been issued a partner and a key. He shook himself. Suspicious men with sinister plots were behind him. The man was just another guest, and if not that then a staff member. Alex was being paranoid. And that was no way to enjoy a school trip.
They took turns piling into the two small lifts. Some of the more impatient students would have taken the stairs if their rooms had been on the third, or even fourth, floor. But even they weren’t willing to drag their luggage up to the sixth floor, so they waited. Alex’s roommate took the opportunity to introduce himself. George, or "Geo" to his friends, was considerably taller than Alex. He was also a year above Alex, which was why Alex hadn’t recognised him. That didn’t mean George hadn’t heard the rumours about Alex, though. Their turn for the lift was a welcome, if brief, interruption from George’s prodding. There was nothing to say, as far as Alex was concerned. He was done with all that trouble.
As it turned out, getting settled in the room was a lot more pleasant than the conversation preceding it. For one thing, the room was pretty good for a budget hotel. More importantly it turned out that George was also a huge fan of Chelsea and the two were able to have a lively discussion.
Mr Donovan had given them all until dinner, which would be at the hotel around six o’clock, to relax. So it wasn’t long until George declared he was going to explore.
“You want to join?” He asked. “I’m going to see if any of the others are itching to take a look around like me.”
“Go on, I’ll be down in five,” Alex replied.
“You betcha.” George grinned and exited, leaving Alex alone in the room.
Alex rolled off his bed and stretched. He didn’t need anything per se, but he wanted a few minutes to collect himself. Maybe he’d change out of his uniform before going down to meet with the others.
There was a rap on the door and Alex started. He hadn’t been expecting anyone… unless George had forgotten his key? But the door wasn’t locked and Alex got the sense that the other boy wasn’t the type to knock. And it was too early for Mr Donovan to be checking on everyone. So who could it be?
He walked over to the door and put his eye to the spyhole. A tall man dressed in the staff uniform and holding a covered basket stood on the other side. He seemed vaguely familiar… Alex felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to rise but forced himself to relax. It was probably the uniform that made him feel like he’d seen the man before. And there was no reason to think the man was here to hurt him. Alex was just a schoolboy visiting Munich and the man was just a hotel employee. He pushed away his mental image of a concealed gun nestled in the basket. Perhaps covered baskets were part of the hotel’s normal hospitality routine.
Alex opened the door prepared to speak, but the man beat him to it.
“Good afternoon, young sir!” The man said, and Alex was glad Ian had taught him German. “I bring a care package from some friends of yours at Royal & General. May I come in?” The man had an impeccable customer service smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. But that wasn’t what made Alex’s stomach drop. It was what the man had said: Royal & General. MI6.
Something else clicked in his mind as well. He knew why the man seemed familiar— he had been the one slipping into the stairwell earlier! Alex got the sense that the man had been waiting for his arrival, and that had prompted him to go grab the basket. Exactly what he wanted was unclear, but that was something Alex wasn’t interested in knowing. He had been right to be on his guard, but he wasn’t happy about it.
He opened his mouth to respond, to say no and that he should leave before closing the door on him, but the man breezed past him and into the room. Alex hadn’t even registered that the man had closed the door, but now he was setting the basket down on Alex’s bed. He frowned when the man followed that up by parking himself in one of the room’s chairs. He was beginning to feel a bit irritated.
“I never said you could come in. And please take the ‘care package’ with you. I don’t want it.” Alex glared at the offending basket.
“We have some important business to discuss,” the man began, ignoring Alex’s request. “And I think you’ll find that you want to keep the package by the end of our chat. It could make your work go smoother. Besides, it’s rude to return a gift.”
Alex managed to lower his voice to an appropriate level for his question, though it did not remove an ounce of venom. “Did MI6 send you?” he demanded.
The man chuckled, which conveyed an emotion that was amusement and apathy in equal parts. Then he directed his piercing gaze into Alex’s, pinning the boy in place.
“My apologies. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Martin Herrmann of the Bundesnachrichtendienst, the BND,” he quickly switched to English to say, “the Federal Intelligence Service.”
That was exactly what Alex had been worried about. This wasn’t MI6, but it might as well be.
Mr Herrmann continued, “So no, MI6 did not send me. In fact, they would be in a lot of trouble if they’d tried operating so freely in this country. However, we have been in contact and let me assure you that they have given us permission to recruit you. This is a matter of interest to MI6 as well. Think of it as being on loan, if you’d like.”
Alex did not like that one bit.
“Now, business,” Mr Herrmann rubbed his hands together and actually managed to smile with his eyes. “You and your peers are going to the European Schools Fair at Olympiastadion tomorrow. Of the attending schools there is one we would like you to find and follow, in particular a boy by the name of Artemis Fowl II—“
“Hold on,” Alex cut in. “I haven’t agreed to anything, and you shouldn’t be telling classified information to some kid. I don’t know where this goes, but I’m not listening to any more. Send a real agent.” Alex managed to get over to the bed, pick up the basket, and shove it into Mr Herrmann’s lap.
Mr Herrmann looked down at the basket, then up at Alex. He raised an eyebrow and set the basket on the desk next to him. Then he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms, a measured expression on his face.
“In that case, there is another matter which bears mentioning before you consider the BND’s offer. There is a problem with your school’s paperwork. It seems that someone overlooked it on your way into the country but it will no doubt be caught before your exit flight. What a delay that will be to your entire group! None of you will be able to leave until it’s sorted out. I imagine it will worry quite a few parents.
“Now, of course, your teacher could have the issue fixed before you all attempt to leave the country. But with no reason to suspect a problem he would not think to waste time reviewing it. Even if he did there would be no guarantee of finding the problem without the right set of eyes.” Mr Herrmann tapped his chin thoughtfully. “On the other hand, it would be a good deal easier to make allowances for someone who had provided a valuable service. Keeping an eye on an individual of interest, for instance.”
Alex couldn’t believe it. The German Federal Intelligence Service was threatening to detain not just him, but his schoolmates as well, unless he agreed to work for them! He knew Mr Herrmann was serious about the paperwork, but he was also sure that the problem would be entirely fabricated by the BND. They would make up some regulation that the school was in violation of, or just replace their papers with error-riddled fakes. It honestly made Alex a little disgusted to think that a country might do something like that. Then again, MI6 had had no qualms blackmailing him before, so perhaps he should expect this behavior from government intelligence agencies by now.
Before Alex could respond, Mr Herrmann abruptly stood and grabbed the basket. “But if you are quite sure, Alex Rider, that you are not interested in helping then I shall see myself out. I understand if you find your personal enjoyment of the trip greater than your peers’ ability to get home on time.”
Alex struggled to speak for a moment. How dare Mr Herrmann accuse him of that! It was one thing to enter uninvited with an unsolicited delivery, but another thing entirely to pin the BND’s future retaliation against him on him. It was mean, and it was unfair. But it had worked as intended. Whether he wanted to or not Alex’s only choice was to take the job. He put an arm out in front of Mr Herrmann and stepped between him and the door. Mr Herrmann stopped and pretended to be surprised, but he looked too smug to be convincing.
“Fine, I’ll help,” Alex grumbled. “But you didn’t need to try guilting me. The threat would have worked just fine on its own.”
At that, Mr Herrman perked up and reclaimed the chair he’d previously been sitting in. “Excellent! I knew you would make the right choice.” Alex shot him a look but said nothing, instead sitting on the side of his bed. If he was to endure a full briefing he might as well get more comfortable.
“As I was saying, we’re interested in a boy— he’s around your age— named Artemis Fowl II. He’s with St Bartleby’s. If you look in the basket from MI6 there’ll be a folder with a photo of him along with all the necessary details. Follow him, watch him, and even talk to him if you think you can get information that way,” Mr Herrmann made a vague hand gesture.
“Great, but what am I supposed to be getting from him? What’s he got to do with the BND?” Alex asked.
“His family is known for their wealth, and government agencies know them for being generations deep in organised crime. They go back to the Norman Conquest in 1066 and have made it their family’s one goal to accumulate wealth. Their family motto is even ‘Aurum Potestas Est’, or ‘Gold is Power’. In their early days it was racketeering, smuggling, and armed robbery but they’ve worked their way over to corporate crime, which is where they’ve settled this past century,” Mr Herrmann explained.
Alex frowned. “If you know all this then why haven’t you stopped them? It sounds like you could’ve arrested them already.”
“It’s true they’ve been evading the law quite well. And Fowl Manor, their home and literal castle, is a fortress. MI6 didn’t do so well sending agents in, and the BND wouldn’t want to follow suit even if we were allowed. But due to recent developments investigating the Fowls has become a greater priority, and this Fair is a perfect opportunity to do that in a more favourable environment.
“You see, Artemis Fowl Senior, current head of the Fowl criminal empire, resurfaced earlier this month after his presumed death over two years ago. The last anyone had heard of him the Russian Mafia had sunk him and his ship, The Fowl Star, off the coast of Murmansk. 250,000 cans of cola went with him.”
“Mmm,” Alex said. Mention of Murmansk brought back less than fond memories for him.
“While there’s been no indication of specific criminal activity at the moment, we don’t trust him. Not with his track record. His miraculous return would be worth investigating even without it, but with it… well, even if there’s nothing new there’s plenty of old evidence to dig up. Not to mention general operating methods. But we’d even settle for learning how Artemis the elder stayed completely off the radar and made it back alive, and if it is true, as we suspect, that his son is already following him into the family business. Junior has an extraordinary intellect and what he lacks in brawns he makes up for with his dangerous bodyguard, Butler. One of the most dangerous men in the world, I’ve heard. When handling the father or son, proceed with caution.”
There was a quiet beeping and Mr Herrmann glanced down at his watch. “We’re practically out of time, but let’s quickly go over your new toys from MI6 so you know what to do with them. Your man Smithers didn’t send instruction manuals, I’m afraid.”
He took the basket and pulled the cloth away to reveal its contents. There was the folder he’d mentioned, along with four other items: a pack of gum, a pen, a belt, and an mp3 player with earphones. Mr Herrmann pointed to each as he explained their use. “The gum is actually a memory stick, double sided. One side is USB, the other is ACP. It can hack into whatever device you plug it into then download its contents for us. The entire process should take about half a minute.”
So they wanted him to get information directly off one of Artemis' devices. Easy enough in a classroom or office, but a bit trickier with everyone moving around at the Schools Fair. Still, Alex was sure he could stall for 30 seconds if he managed to plug the memory stick in anywhere.
Mr Herrmann was already moving onto the next gadget and Alex redirected his focus. “This pen is loaded with a powerful tranquilizer. The tip is a hypodermic needle, so best not to write with it. The liquid would make terrible ink anyways. Just take off the cap, jab it into your target and watch them drop. Like an anti-EpiPen. I imagine Smithers was thinking of Butler when he made this.
“Next, the belt. Holds your trousers up and can jam cameras. Twist the prong three times to activate it. The clasp can also be pulled out,” Mr Herrmann demonstrated, “and there you have a nice blade for cutting through metal. Neat little gadget, but truthfully I think it’s overkill and you shouldn’t expect to need it.” He pushed the blade back into the belt.
“Last up is your new mp3 player. The songs do play, so you’re free to give them a listen. The only exception is David Bowie’s 1971 ‘Quicksand’, which turns on the mode for eavesdropping when selected. Point the end of the player towards the people you’d like to listen in on, and you should be able to hear as well as if you were standing next to them. It works through most walls as well. Apparently it’s ‘more powerful than the last one,’ as Smithers put it. I’m sure that means more to you than me.”
Alex thought back to his very first mission, in Cornwall. The Game Boy and its Exocet cartridge. It had been useful for learning about an early morning delivery, but the sound quality for distant conversations had left something to be desired. “Yeah, I get it.”
Mr Herrmann nodded in approval. “Good. I need to be on my way now, but take care.” He rose and tossed Alex a matchbox-sized cube. “Press the button when you have something to report and we’ll have someone pick you up.” When he reached the door he turned around one last time, “Enjoy your school trip, young man.”
Then Alex was alone in the room once more, only he was feeling much lower than he had fifteen minutes ago. It hadn’t even been a month since he left the hospital and already he was right back in with the kind of work that landed him there in the first place. It was maddening. Why couldn’t he just go to school and have a normal life like everyone else? He was angry at the BND, and MI6, but he was also annoyed with himself. Instead of standing his ground, he had allowed a government agency to twist his arm again. He shouldn’t have been so quick to give in. There was probably something he could’ve done, a way to force them to let his class leave the country, without doing their dirty work. Now he was stuck with a mission, and he was looking forward to the Fair a little less.
At least he knew exactly what he was up against this time. Not like with Ash during their ASIS mission, or when Alex had gone looking for Scorpia (which admittedly had been one of his worse decisions). He picked up the mission files folder and flipped through some of the pages. They detailed an impressive catalog, especially considering it was all carried out by a small family. That was one thing going for Alex, though. If he somehow managed to get on their bad side he wouldn’t have a whole network of killers after him. No, just one of the world’s most dangerous men, he reminded himself. Along with the head of a criminal empire and his son, a certified child prodigy.
Alex pulled out the attached photos and looked them over. The first was of a man with greying hair, tailored suit, and what Alex suspected was a prosthetic leg. Artemis Fowl Senior. It was a rather crisp image, which surprised Alex. For some reason he had expected something a bit grainy that had clearly been taken at a distance. It made sense, though. The Fowls had plenty of legitimate business dealings. There would’ve been opportunities to get clear photos of him.
Next, an extremely tall and muscled Eurasian man with a shaved head wearing a black Hugo Boss suit. Alex didn’t need to check the files to know that this was Butler. He didn’t look forward to crossing paths, but knew it was unavoidable given the circumstances. Speaking of which… he turned to the last photo which showed a pale, skinny boy with black hair. It could be none other than Artemis Fowl II; the family resemblance was obvious.
Alex examined the boy’s face carefully. He had to admit it intrigued him, being sent to investigate someone his own age: age 14, born 1 September 1988 in Dublin, Ireland. If it turned out that Artemis was already involved with his father’s machinations, then that would be one more thing they had in common.
He tucked the photos back into the envelope and slid the basket under his bed. There’d be time to finish reading later. He realised he’d promised to meet George in the lobby ten minutes ago, and it now occurred to him that the others might have left already. He glanced at the bed one more time before he closed the door. Alex was determined to enjoy what would doubtless be his last evening as a normal kid for a while.