The Imperial Family

Chapter Three: The Secret Code

"Lost causes are the only ones worth fighting for," - Clarence Darrow.

***

Buying the silence of a man who is better known for his silence will not cost one a dime. His value lies not in the words he keeps to himself, but in the ones he chooses to share - for when he opens his mouth, many are keen to lend him a listening ear. What secrets is he about to reveal? They'll wonder.

Buying the silence of a man better known for his voice will cost one a dime and a half. His value lies not in the words he speaks, but in the ones he chooses to keep to himself - for when he keeps mum about a thing, the world hungers for it even more. What will it take to buy his silence, and what will it take to buy his voice? A dime and a half.

Infiltrating the notorious Imperial Club would require The Sanctuary Team to wrestle both types of men. It was a battle they had been preparing for years.

Nanny Carol, as she was popularly called by the learners at Brownstone Academy watched from her storeroom window the fleet of luxury cars drive around the Vaillancourt-inspired fountain majestically standing at the centre of the elite school. After ten years of working as a housekeeper at the school, she still

couldn't resist watching the elaborate show of immaculately dressed chauffeurs moving in animated fashion as they helped the little heirs out of their cars.

Anyone new to the school would assume this show was mere protocol, but she knew better than anyone the extent the parents went to ensure that their drivers represented the value of their employers, not just in dress, but in manners too. There was nothing

'protocol' about that circus. It was a war of prestige and vanity. And Nanny Carol drank it all in every school morning...but not for the obvious reasons.

Brownstone Academy was the leading pre and primary school where Zambia's one-percenters sent their children under the age of thirteen. The school was highly regarded, not just for its obvious elitism and high-quality education, but also for its security. Parents who couldn't afford to get their kids in called it the 'Juvenile Prison' for having more security features and personnel than the prisons of Zambia, put together.

Nanny Carol checked her wristwatch for the umpteenth time since appearing at the window. She keenly watched the hands of time as they moved before starting the countdown to 8 o'clock.

"One, two, three, four, five." She lifted her gaze and watched as a slick blue limousine pulled up from the other side of the fountain and parked in the front. The Imperial Family heirs.

A tuxedo-clad heavyweight stepped down from the vehicle and opened the door. As one kid after another disembarked, Nanny Carol waited for the one kid she had been waiting for; seven-year-old Mapalo Nkole.

She waited until all the kids from the Nkole household had safely passed through the metal detectors and security check before leaving the storage room.

It was time.

Nanny Carol waited for all the kids in Class 2 to settle down before collecting their lunch packs for refrigeration. As usual, she chatted with a few kids as she made the round, placing one impeccably packed lunchbox into the trolley after another.

Finally, she was by Mapalo's desk, the beautiful and ever-smiling princess with an obsession for doves and the colour blue, royal blue to be specific. The thought of such an angelic girl being born into such an atrocious family broke Nanny Carol's heart.

"Nanny Carol!" The seven-year-old cheerfully greeted the housekeeper. "Did you see me waving at you when you were by the window? I told Stan that you always stand there on Wednesdays to watch the cars." She handed her lunch box to the elderly lady.