“First, it’s a cube,” corrected Artemis. “And second, it’s not for sale.”
Jon Spiro took a deep shuddering breath. “Not for sale? You brought me across the Atlantic to show me something you’re not going to sell me? What’s going on here?”
Butler wrapped his fingers around the handle of a pistol in his waistband. Arno Blunt’s hand disappeared behind his back. The tension cranked up another notch.
Artemis steepled his fingers. “Mr. Spiro. Jon. I am not a complete idiot. I realize the value of my Cube. There is not enough money in the world to pay for this particular item.
Whatever you could give me, the Cube would be worth a thousand percent more in a week.”
“So what’s the deal, Fowl?” asked Spiro through gritted teeth. “What are you offering?”
“I’m offering you twelve months. For the right price, I’m prepared to keep my Cube off the market for a year.”
Jon Spiro toyed with his ID bracelet. A birthday present to himself. “You’ll suppress the technology for a year?”
“Correct. That should give you ample time to sell your stocks before they crash, and use the profits to buy into Fowl Industries.”
“There is no Fowl Industries.”
Artemis smirked. “There will be.”
Butler squeezed his employer’s shoulder. It was not a good idea to bait a man like Jon Spiro.
But Spiro hadn’t even noticed the gibe. He was too busy calculating, twisting his bracelet like a string of worry beads.
“Your price?” he asked eventually.
“Gold. One metric ton,” replied the heir to the Fowl estate.
“That’s a lot of gold.”
Artemis shrugged. “I like gold. It holds its value. And anyway, it’s a pittance compared to what this deal will save you.”
Spiro thought about it. At his shoulder, Arno Blunt continued staring at Butler. The Fowl bodyguard blinked freely. In the event of confrontation, dry eyeballs would only lessen his advantage. Staring matches were for amateurs.
“Let’s say I don’t like your terms,” said Jon Spiro. “Let’s say I decide to take your little gadget with me right now.”
Arno Blunt’s chest puffed out another inch.
“Even if you could take the Cube”—Artemis smiled— “it would be of little use to you. The technology is beyond anything your engineers have ever seen.”
Spiro smiled a thin, mirthless smile. “Oh, I’m sure they could figure it out. Even if it took a couple of years, it won’t matter to you. Not where you’re going.”
“If I go anywhere, then the C Cube’s secrets go with me. It’s every function is coded to my voice patterns. It’s quite a clever code.”
Butler bent his knees slightly, ready to spring.
“I bet we could break that code. I got one helluva team assembled at Fission Chips.”
“Pardon me if I am unimpressed by your ‘one helluva team,’”said Artemis.“Thus far you have been trailing several years behind Phonetix.”
Spiro jumped to his feet. He did not like the P-word. Phonetix was the only communications company whose stock was higher than Fission Chips.
“Okay, kid, you’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn. I have to go now, before the satellite beam gets here. But I’m leaving Mr. Blunt behind.” He patted his bodyguard on the shoulder. “You know what you have to do.”
Blunt nodded. He knew. He was looking forward to it.
For the first time since the meeting began, Artemis forgot about his lunch and concentrated completely on the situation at hand. This was not going according to plan.
“Mr. Spiro. You cannot be serious. We are in a public place, surrounded by civilians. Your man cannot hope to compete with Butler. If you persist with these ludicrous threats, I will be forced to withdraw my offer and release the C Cube immediately.”
Spiro placed his palms on the table. “Listen, kid,” he whispered. “I like you. In a couple of years, you could have been just like me. But did you ever put a gun to somebody’s head and pull the trigger?”
Artemis didn’t reply.
“No?” grunted Spiro. “I didn’t think so. Sometimes that’s all it takes. Guts. And you don’t have them.”
Artemis was at a loss for words. Something that had only happened twice since his fifth birthday. Butler stepped in to fill the silence. Unveiled threats were more his area.
“Mr. Spiro. Don’t try to bluff us. Blunt may be big, but I can snap him like a twig. Then there’s nobody between me and you. And take my word for it, you don’t want that.”
Spiro’s smile spread across his nicotine-stained teeth like a smear of treacle. “Oh, I wouldn’t say there’s nobody between us.”
Butler got that sinking feeling. The one you get when there are a dozen laser sights playing across your chest.
They had been set up. Somehow Spiro had outmaneuvered Artemis.
“Hey, Fowl?” said the American. “I wonder how come your lunch is taking so long.”
It was at that moment that Artemis realized just how much trouble they were in.
Eoin Colfer, The Arctic Incident
(Series: Artemis Fowl # 2)
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