Julius laughed. ‘In my town, you can bribe your way out of anything. My cousin Ken says the new governor ran up big debts fighting the election campaign. Our family is the richest in Ondo State, so he wants cash and a cut of some fat contracts SJ awarded to Adebisi family companies while he was governor. Then all our legal problems will go away.’

‘Surely SJ is in trouble too?’

Julius shook his head. ‘Senior Nigerian politicians are immune from prosecution after they leave office.’

‘Convenient,’ Georgia snorted. ‘And he left all these papers lying around the house?’

‘They were in a safe,’ Julius explained. ‘SJ wasn’t expecting to lose the election. I was the only one in London to do his dirty work and go to the bank when it happened.’

‘So what are you trying to do?’ Georgia asked.

Julius looked unsure. ‘I already forged my uncle’s signature a bunch of times. I’m wondering if I could write myself a big cheque? Or I could blackmail my uncle into helping the family, because I’ve got heaps of evidence about the money he stole …’

‘You said he had immunity,’ Georgia pointed out.

‘That would stop them sending him to prison in Nigeria,’ Julius said. ‘But they could take the money back.’

‘Do you want me to have a go at sorting these papers?’ Georgia asked.

‘If you wish,’ Julius said. ‘I’ve called Matt’s dad. He’s a financial advisor. He’s got an early meeting, but he said he’ll come by at eleven and look at what I’ve got. I haven’t had breakfast or coffee. I might go get something.’

Georgia was thirsty from her run. ‘The hipster coffee place on the corner does good smoothies. I don’t have cash on me though …’

Julius unzipped a battered wheelie bag. ‘If you’re short, there’s about a hundred grand in here.’

‘Flash!’ Georgia grinned, staring at neat bundles of new £20 notes, plus euros, dollars, fancy watches and a necklace set with huge diamonds.

‘Rent money,’ Julius joked, flipping Georgia a £1,000 bundle.

‘I can’t take that,’ Georgia said, but she couldn’t resist sniffing the centimetre-thick pack and flicking the pristine notes with her thumbnail.

‘Promise not to leg it with my cash while I get your smoothie?’ Julius joked.

‘I’m less guilty about you paying,’ Georgia noted as she dropped the twenties back in the wheelie bag and zipped it shut. ‘And I demand a blueberry muffin.’

As Julius put his T-shirt back on the right way around and pulled on jeans and hoodie, Georgia looked at the mass of random financial papers on the desk, plus a full suitcase under the table, and realised she was going to need pens, Post-its and plastic file wallets.

When Julius got back with breakfast, Georgia had found her stationery and was happily ordering papers into piles, based on which company or bank account they related to.