Master Ono’s training ground

Master Ono's training ground

Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean near the Equator and most definitely off the beaten track, lay the mysterious island of Valsieve.
Far from any shipping lanes and flight paths, and (thanks to contacts at the highest level of global government) hidden from satellite surveillance, the island was the one place where The Few were able to fully exploit and enjoy their technology without fear.
It boasted miles of unspoilt, golden sand, swaying palms and cool salty waters. Neat stone paths cleaved its dense jungle, running between rows of incredible tree houses. It was also home to chattering parrots, wide-eyed monkeys, snakes, lizards and all types of insects; and, at its heart, crowned with a ringlet of fluffy white clouds, was the volcano.
‘I thought we were done with tree houses?’ Veronique moaned when their khaki clad guide closed the door, leaving them in a particularly palatial high-rise dwelling. ‘I bet there’s no bath, no mirrors and dare I even mention a hair dryer?’
Fedor sighed, dropped his bag and stalked over to the bathroom. Inside were polished tiles and gleaming taps. Full-length mirrors covered one wall and a bewildering array of towels, scrubs and lotions adorned the other. There was a wet room larger than his mother’s kitchen and a bath that was arguably seaworthy

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