The Fowl Twins. Eoin Colfer

situations.

      ‘The fairy situation,’ said Jeronima, and she placed a black plastic card on the table.

      Myles did not touch the card and he made no attempt to scan it with his augmented spectacles. Even basic credit cards had photon technology now. Jeronima had presented her card with such a flourish that Myles felt sure it was packed with advanced sensors and would detect a scan. Then he would lose his precious spectacles and he would have no contact with NANNI, as his watch and smartphone were still beside his bed in Villa Éco.

      ‘Don’t worry, niño,’ said Jeronima, sensing Myles’s hesitation. ‘It is nothing but a card. We are very old-school down here. There is not even the internet.’

      Myles engaged his organic scanners, those being his eyes. At first glance, the card seemed blank, but then Myles noticed seven embossed letters.

      ‘ACRONYM,’ he read. ‘I presume ACRONYM is an acronym.’

      ‘Sí, correcto, Myles,’ said Jeronima. ‘ACRONYM stands for: Asociación para el Control, la Regulación, y la Observación de los No-humanos y la Magia.’

      ‘You’re telling me that the acronym for ACRONYM is ACRONYM?’ asked Myles. ‘That sounds a little forced, if you don’t mind me saying. And it only works in Spanish, though the agency name itself is English.’

      ‘I suppose you could do the better acronym, chico,’ said Jeronima, which was unfortunate, for Myles Fowl had always been a whizz at wordplay.

      ‘Most certainly I could do better,’ said the bespectacled twin. ‘Let me see … Off the top of my head, what about IMP? Imaginary Monster Patrol. I have added a second layer to the acronym there by linking the word itself to the organisation.’

      Jeronima smiled thinly. ‘Most amusing. But also insulting, no?’

      ‘I take your point. Let’s try another one: ELF. Excellent Leprechaun Force. I could do a few in Spanish if you like?’

      Jeronima shrugged. ‘English, Spanish, it does not matter. The name is no importante – it is our actions that count. We are an international intergovernmental organisation charged with monitoring fairy activity.’

      ‘Los no-humanos,’ said Myles, not bothering to suppress a smirk. ‘So tell me, Sister, if I ignore the ridiculous premise for your group’s very existence, what does your ACRONYM want with us?’

      ‘Nada. We do not want anything,’ said Jeronima, wide-eyed. ‘We are merely protecting you.’

      Myles laughed. ‘From a gunshot? Why would fairy-hunters care about a shot from a human gun? We had a close shave, that is all.’

      ‘We do not care about this gunshot, but we are most interested in the disappearing island.’

      ‘There you have me at a disadvantage,’ said Myles. ‘I genuinely have no idea what you are talking about.’

      Which was not the whole truth.

      The nun’s eyes narrowed and she began twirling the throwing knife on the table. ‘After the gunshot, the island simply disappeared, momentarily, then came back into view. We do not have such technology. So it must be magic.’

      Myles laughed. ‘Really, Sister? Magic is your first port of call? Why not aliens? Why not alternative dimensions? Your reasoning is fatally flawed, I’m afraid.’

      Jeronima thunked the knife into the tabletop, where it quivered and sang. ‘Listen to me, niño. There is another race under our feet with superior weapons and advanced technology. Some years ago, there was an event that shut down the entire world. Airports, hospitals, everything. It took months for civilisation to recover, and it cost billions. Several governments collapsed.’