Since he arrived at the Libertalia mansion, William was put to work immediately.

‘Here,’ Edward commanded, handing William a pile of papers. ‘Go shred these and don’t bugger up the machine. Three pages at a time.’ It had taken a full day to shred the entire pile. Edward also instructed all his desk-bound employees to hand their wastepaper to William. For a week, he fed pages into the temperamental machine, cutting his fingers in the process and getting covered in tiny white flecks as he tried to add more than three pages at a time. Other than paper shredding, his father only made him do menial work like filing, fetching and carrying things and making him strong coffee. William swallowed his own pride, knowing that it would take time to win his father’s confidence back again.

Edward’s business was conducted in what had once been a ballroom — a long, large room that could probably fit around 200 people. The walls were covered in ornate wallpaper with gold leaves that seemed to sprout down the side of the walls from the elaborate cornice above. On the second floor of the mansion, the

room overlooked verdant gardens and the quiet beach and bay in the distance. If you stood right up against the three-metre-high windows, it felt like you could step out onto the horizon. Late one evening, William came to fetch some papers for his father and pressed himself right up against the glass. His chest opened as he took a deep breath; his body aching to be free from this place and when he closed his eyes for a second, her face was the first image in his mind — Karabo, lit up and smiling at him. He smiled back at his reflection, unable to stop himself. He missed her; he missed them all. Making friends had the nasty downside of caring for someone other than yourself — something he’d always been taught not to do. Blinking away the memory, he pushed himself away from the glass.

William spent most days running errands for his father and Charles. The strange accountant, who bit his nails and spent a lot of time smoking outside, would call him over as if he wanted to ask him to do something. Then he’d look William up and down, before changing his mind and shooing him away. This annoyed William, especially as he’d been trusted by his father to undertake a number of tasks. What could the accountant possibly think he was unable to perform?

As far as William could tell, the business was run in the same way that any business was run: people came and sat at their desks every day, spoke on the phone, spent hours typing things on their computers, and occasionally meander around and talk to each other.

Edward’s desk was positioned at the far end of the ballroom — an enormous oak desk that could easily have ten people seated around it. Father kept it spotless, except for some pens and his laptop. The size of the desk matched his frame — large, powerful and solid. He could issue instructions in his booming voice across the ballroom to Charles’ desk, yet when Edward was on a call, William couldn’t hear a word. Father’s bodyguards were also always hovering nearby, with one in the room and the other not too far away.

‘Do you really need these guys here?’ William commented one afternoon when he returned to his father’s desk with coffee. It seemed unlikely to William that anyone was going to come and attack his father on a tiny island in the middle of the Indian ocean.

Edward looked up at William, his small, laser eyes boring into him. In an instant, William felt stupid and tried to qualify his statement.

‘I mean, it’s pretty safe here in Madagascar, isn’t it, Dad?’ he asked. ‘Sit!’ Edward demanded.

William pulled out the heavy, oak chair and scraped it along the marble tiles.

‘If your mother and that fool Cedric could find me, then many other, less-friendly associates can too,’ explained Edward, his large upper body straightening to reveal muscles straining against his grey shirt.

‘We have a very special business, William, a business that people want. We own people’s secrets and help people to move things, steal things, buy things that they wouldn’t normally be able to. We enable an “alternative” trade, and few can comprehend the breadth of our operations. As a result, there are many who want the information we have, the things we move and the scope of our contacts,’ said Edward, watching William’s expression. He blinked back at his father, his face showing no emotion.

‘People want me, and everyone in this business, dead. Including you, my boy. I’d stick with “these guys” if I was you. The cameras are for your protection William, playing hide and seek with them is childish,’ Edward remarked.

William felt his eyes widen in surprise. Charles had clearly told their father that he ran and hid from the cameras when he went to the mountains at the pinnacle of the bay. Typical Charles — Father’s pet.

William knew that his father was testing him, as he tried to figure out what to do with him and where to place him in the business. More than anything, William needed a real position in the business so that he could learn how this underground business worked — especially if his plan was going to work.

That’s why he was relieved when Edward found him in the server room and finally decided he had a job for William. If he couldn’t find a use for him, his father would simply send him to his brother, Harrison, in the US to study some inane course. Harrison — the eldest of the English brothers — was much more personable than Charles, but he was no angel and also enjoyed a certain degree of cruelty for fun.

William stood at his father’s desk, backlit by the soft pink light in the distant sky. The rain had stopped for the moment and the humidity was rising. Even in the cool, air-conditioned ballroom, he could feel the sweat collecting on the back of his t-shirt. His hair, still wet from the shower, continued to drip down the back of his neck as he waited apprehensively for his next instruction.

Edward looked up. ‘Good, you’re here. Let’s chat before we go to supper. Sit down, William,’ he said.

Desperately trying to seem confident, William slouched into the chair and flicked his hair out of his eye.

‘What’s the big idea, Dad?’

Edward’s smile barely moved across his face before it was gone.