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of his Procurement Division against Tom and
Tom had never been beaten. Whenever a new aircraft request came in, the Alba
team would drop everything as they tried, in vain, to better ‘Donald’s’
proposal.
    It hadn’t taken Tom long to see the commercial viability of his
services and so he launched WhatJet.com, the home of a truly independent advice
service for those wanting to buy the best fit-for-purpose aircraft they could.
When people were spending tens of millions of dollars on something, they tended
to want to make sure that they were buying the right thing at the right price.
Tom had also built an enviable list of ‘actual’ cost rather than ’list’ price
and in general, saved his customers around 5% on the purchase price. His fee
was 0.5% of the purchase price which was minimal
compared to the savings made, so nobody had ever complained. In his first year
of business, Tom had made over $2 million profit and his company was valued at
double that amount.
    Only
Lela knew about Tom’s little ‘ sideline ’. His father
was famous for having started Alba at the age of 14 and keeping it a secret
until his 16 th birthday when he
announced to his bewildered parents that he was leaving school and going to run
his multi-million pound business. Tom was planning to trump that, although he
perhaps would forget the leaving school part, not many people left school at 16
any more.
    Tom flicked back to his search. He would deal with the new
enquiries the next day, after his friends had left. Thirty minutes later, he
hit the print button and the page shot out of the printer.
    “Done it, got it,” announced Tom grabbing the sheet of paper.
    “Got what?” asked Lela, pausing MTV.
    “The school’s location, of course!”
    Lela looked at her watch, they had only been there 45 minutes.
    “What, you’ve just found the secret school on the internet in
less than an hour?”
    “Yep and I’ll tell you something, if you thought my mum was
pissed off earlier, just wait ‘til she hears this,” said Tom as he led the way
to the study. He thought it was only fair to warn his father first.  
    Tom knocked and they both entered. His father was on one phone
and had another call sitting off the hook on the desk. He didn’t normally work
from home but had decided he wanted to spend as much time as he could with Tom
on his birthday.
    Donald ended his call and retrieved the other handset from his
desk.
    “I’m so sorry about that Sam, we’re just finalising the IBC bid, it’s all rather hectic. Now where were we?”
    Donald looked down at his list and began to run through the list
of questions Rachel had given him.
    Tom and Lela waited patiently as Donald talked. They assumed
their favourite seats on the huge sofa in front of the fireplace. They both
jumped when Donald suddenly raised his voice.
    “What do you mean you can’t tell me!” he shouted. “Don’t be
ridiculous! How can you expect me to say yes without knowing that ?! ”
    Tom walked over to the desk and looked at the sheet of paper in
front of Donald, his pen was doodling next to the world ‘Location’. As Donald
argued, the pen began to bounce up and down. Tom put his hand over his father’s
to stop his tapping and placed his sheet of paper in front of him and directed
his father attention to it.   
    “Hold on Sam, Tom’s just giving me something.”
    He looked at the sheet of paper and then at Tom, quizzically. Tom
nodded.
    “Sam, I’ll just put you on speaker, Tom and Lela are both here.”
    “OK,” replied Sam, his Southern American drawl booming across the study.
    “Tom just handed me a sheet of paper which has the name of two
islands on it – one’s called Bassas da India
and the other Ile Europa. Their geographic locations are 21 30 S 39 50 E and 22
20 S 40 22 E respectively.”
    The former president said nothing.
    “Sam, are you still there?” asked Donald.
    “Yes. Tom, where did you get that information?” he asked,
shocked.
    “My dad