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 kept raining as he Ubered to a Nigerian cafe behind Oxford Circus station.
‘Ayamase stew and rice.’ The waitress grinned, as she found Julius a seat at a long counter lined with padded green bar stools. ‘Right?’
‘You know me too well,’ Julius said cheerfully.
The place heaved with a mix of West Africans seeking comfort food and Brits in office wear, wanting more adventure than a chicken sandwich. The waiting staff were all authentically Nigerian, but it amused Julius whenever the door swung open into a kitchen filled with Asians and Eastern Europeans.
Well fed, Julius took the Underground to a Camden side street known for skate and trainer shops. He knew shopping wouldn’t quell loneliness, but tried his best, dropping several hundred pounds on trainers, a limited-edition bamboo skate deck and a trio of pricy hoodies.
Bunmi had fixed Julius a debit card and monthly allowance. But his departure for London hadn’t been planned. When he first arrived, he’d been given the code for a walk-in safe in the basement and permission to take a few hundred pounds for taxi fares and school uniform. Julius had been dipping into stacks of mint £20 notes ever since.
Matt called as Julius headed back to the Underground, apologising that he’d left it until Wednesday because his dad had gifted him flying lessons for getting an excellent school report.
‘Come and hang tomorrow,’ Matt said. ‘My family are doing a birthday dinner for my sister, which will be snores, but you can hang out. I think there’s go-karting booked, but you don’t have to—’
‘I’m up for anything,’ Julius said cheerfully. But a tick later he noticed that he – or more accurately his top-of-the-line phone and shopping bags – were getting eyed by three sturdy lads leaning on railings outside Mornington Crescent station. ‘See you tomorrow, Matt. I’ve gotta run.’
The three dudes tailed when Julius went past. It was a quiet time of day. He didn’t fancy his chances if they got in the station elevator, but not going into the station seemed just as risky. He saw salvation in the orange light on an approaching cab, but the driver saw a soggy black kid in a hoodie and kept driving.
Julius anxiously decided his best option was to cut between the traffic and call an Uber from inside McDonald’s, but a second black cab pulled up to the kerb with a smiling lady driver.
‘Where to, young man?’
‘King’s Road,’ Julius said, then changed his mind. ‘Actually, Leicester Square.’
The taxi windows were steamed from the warmth in the cab. As he wiped the foggy glass with his sleeve, Julius saw one of the three lads mouthing abuse. It was a scary reminder that he was alone and a long way from home.