‘I need you to explain to me again how Davey moved his drugs around,’ said Forest. ‘You touched on it a bit in Seaglass with Shelby, but you didn’t go into much detail.’

Mackerel twisted his mouth. ‘It’s not good for you to know that sort of thing . . .’

‘If he tries to recruit me, I’ll need to fake interest,’ said Forest. ‘It might be the difference between life and death!’

‘How good are you at acting?’ said Mackerel. ‘This is Blackbeard we’re talking about. All sorts of people will have tried to get one over on him.’

‘I’m good enough,’ said Forest, lying back on the bed, feeling the sheets. Yep, silk sheets. ‘Tell me, Mack. Please. It could save my life.’

Mackerel took a bottle of spring water from his desk and took a swig. ‘Alright, well . . . abalone fishing requires a diver to go down to the bottom of the ocean. If you mark out a spot where another boat, from anywhere in the world, could sink a barrel of product, then a diver could use the shot line to bring the barrel to the boat, hide it in a hatch . . .’

As Mack explained the complicated logistics, from falsifying warehouse inventory numbers to manipulating the gross weight of refrigerated trucks, Forest thought he saw a gleam of hunger return to his eyes, but the more he spoke, the gleam faded and was replaced by fear again.

Forest liked Mackerel. He wondered, again, how a family this dysfunctional had produced such a nice guy. He looked around the room, feeling intensely sorry that Mackerel clearly didn’t fit in here.

He’d have to fix it, somehow. As Forest Dempsey, surely he had some sway? He had to find a way to look out for Mackerel.

Even though they weren’t truly family, he’d do his best.

Once he’d farewelled Mackerel, Forest headed down to the beach and followed it to the abandoned boatshed. He found Huck reclining on the roof, smoking, watching the sky above.

He climbed up beside him, panting from the long walk from Homeward. He hadn’t seen or heard any police cars racing around, so he suspected Ivy hadn’t found him missing.

‘Late night for a stroll,’ observed Huck.

Forest lay down beside him with a sigh of relief. The sticky heat had begun to be dispelled by a soft breeze here by the water. The moon had nearly set now, revealing more stars in the sky. Shacktown had little light pollution, save from the plaza near Overeem’s Dive Centre, meaning when the stars were out, the Milky Way put on a show. Orion’s belt, Sirius, Betelgeuse, the Southern Cross . . .

With his eyes on those sparkling points of light, Forest told Huck everything. About Davey being alive, about the drug business, about the Dread Pirate Blackbeard, how he might be Jesse.