‘Are you wearing the earplugs?’ he asked his employer.

Artemis sighed deeply. ‘Yes, Butler. Though I hardly think we are in danger here. It’s a perfectly legal business meeting in broad daylight, for heaven’s sake.’

The earplugs were actually sonic filter sponges, cannibalized from fairy Lower Elements Police helmets. Butler had obtained the helmets, along with a treasure trove of fairy technology, over a year previously when one of Artemis’s schemes pitted him against a fairy SWAT team.

The sponges were grown in LEP labs, and had tiny porous membranes that sealed automatically when decibel levels surpassed safety standards.

‘Maybe so, Artemis, but the thing about assassins is that they like to catch you unawares.’

‘Perhaps,’ replied Artemis, perusing the menu’s entree section. ‘But who could possibly have a motive to kill us?’

Butler shot one of the half-dozen diners a fierce glare, just in case she was planning something. The woman must have been at least eighty.

‘They might not be after us. Remember, Jon Spiro is a powerful man. He put a lot of companies out of business. We could be caught in a crossfire.

Artemis nodded. As usual, Butler was right, which explained why they were both still alive. Jon Spiro, the American he was meeting, was just the kind of man to attract assassins’ bullets. A successful IT billionaire, with a shady past and alleged mob connections. Rumour had it that his company, Fission Chips, had made it to the top on the back of stolen research. Of course, nothing was ever proved — not that Chicago’s district attorney hadn’t tried. Several times.

A waitress wandered over, giving them a dazzling smile.

‘Hello there, young man. Would you like to see the children’s menu?’

A vein pulsed in Artemis’s temple.