In another life, when Overeem’s had just opened, he and Davey had been two of their casual dive instructors. It was how he’d gained his dive master certification. During his time working here, he’d spent a bit of time in the maintenance tunnels that ran under the whole centre. This is where all the pipes that fed the different aquariums and pools ran. Once upon a time they’d had public facilities down here, but they’d been replaced by fresher change rooms when the aquarium wing was added.

Forest had followed him into the pump shed, but Ahab ordered him into the corner. ‘Stay put. I’ll be back.’

‘I’m coming too.’

‘Too dangerous. Don’t worry, I know I need you to get Davey to talk. Assuming he’s here. Assuming you’re telling the truth.’

‘Just wait until Mackerel answers your call,’ said Forest, crouching in the corner. ‘He’ll confirm it.’

‘Stay,’ said Ahab, as he began climbing through the trapdoor. Forest did as he was told. ‘There’s a good boy.’

At the bottom of the ladder, his torch revealed wide tunnels lined with dirt and cobwebs. The concrete walls were covered in moisture that caught the torchlight; a steady dripping echoed from somewhere.

He crept along, covering his torch with his hand. No need to give anyone else down here forewarning of his presence.

A little further along he found an old storeroom. A printed ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign was tacked to the door, but it had none of the patina of age and wear that everything else down here had.

A flimsy disguise.

He listened at the door, staying still for the longest time, taking calm breaths.

He stayed that way for one minute.

Then two.

Then three . . .

There. A shuffle inside. A cough.

He kicked the door open and quickly scanned the room with his torchlight.

A man gave a holler and backed away, shielding his eyes. He was dressed in a raincoat, dishevelled, his hair matted, his beard thick and scruffy.

Davey Dempsey.

‘Bloody hell . . .’ said Ahab.

So he was alive.

This changed everything.

‘Wha— Ahab?’ said Davey.

‘Hello, Davey.’ Ahab grinned. A fearsome, terrible grin. ‘Let’s have a chat.’

Davey looked back and forth. ‘You’re Blackbeard?’ He groped around in a pile of filthy clothes behind him, then pulled out a dive knife. ‘Stay the fuck back.’

‘Of course I’m not Blackb—’

Davey lunged forward with the knife, shouting.

Ahab leapt out of the way and scrambled back out the door, slamming it shut and putting his foot against it, trapping Davey inside.

‘Calm down, Davey!’

His cousin pounded on the door. ‘Fight me like a man, Ahab! It’s the least you can do! You’ve taken everything from me!’

‘Will you shut up! Do you want someone else to find you? Obviously I’m not Blackbeard – do you think I’d have come alone and unarmed?’