Chapters (88)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dear Reader …
- Also by Robert Muchamore
- PART ONE
- Walter J Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit – East Grinstead, UK
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- PART TWO
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART THREE
- Walter J. Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit – East Grinstead, UK
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- PART FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- EPILOGUE
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- Have you read KILLER T?
- 1 SLASHED RUBBER
- 2 NOT HARRY POTTER
It had been a couple of years since Julius had been on a scooter. He liked the sense of freedom and the rush of wind through sweaty hair. But a couple of streets was enough to remind him about grit in your eye and potholes trying to throw you off your seat.
Duke sped north, choking on fumes as they zipped between clogged traffic on the four-lane beltway around the town centre.
A chunky traffic cop waved the bike to the side of the road as they exited a junction. The officer noisily sucked air between his teeth and suggested that Duke’s front tire had insufficient tread. To nobody’s surprise, the problem disappeared the instant Duke palmed him a 
200 note.
‘Drive safely, young fellow!’ the cop said politely as they pulled off.
They wound up on hilly ground in the Old Town, a couple of kilometres from Akure’s centre. Over the last stretch, they’d passed several grand houses and an abandoned colonial-era governor’s mansion.
The city’s wealthiest citizens now preferred life behind high walls, in guard-gated communities at the south end of the beltway. But despite a drop in status, Old Town remained one of the nicest parts of Akure. The kind of place where a doctor or senior union official might live.
‘Is this your area?’ Julius asked, shading his eyes from late-afternoon sun.
One side of the street was level with rooftops of houses below. The other had a rocky embankment, topped by a crumbling latticed-brick wall. The high ground gave a view over lines of modest houses with Korean SUVs and rusty satellite dishes.
‘My apartment block is the other side of the hill,’ Duke explained. ‘You’ll see it when we get inside.’
Duke glanced about to check nobody was around, then rolled his scooter behind a mound of rocks, tilted it carefully on its side and shifted a graffitied sheet of wood over the top. It was clearly something he’d done before.
‘Now the tricky part,’ Duke said, taking a run, before starting to scramble up the steep embankment.
‘What’s inside?’ Julius asked.
‘Paradise,’ Duke teased, one skinny arm hooked through the latticed bricks, the other aiming down to grab Julius’s board. ‘Don’t you trust me?
His friend wasn’t expecting an answer, but Julius pondered the question.
Duke was in form eleven, so they didn’t share any classes. He often walked around St Gilda’s with a plastic tube containing drawings over his shoulder. Combining that with pierced ears and big hair was enough to get the wrong sort of attention in an all-boys high school.