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
The perimeter wall was unchanged, but there were no soldiers on the front gate. Between the heavy bars, he saw a dust-coated Lexus that couldn’t have moved in weeks and a battered VW minivan.
Julius stopped at the dust-blown lot where he’d jumped in the helicopter at the start of his exile. He decided to park the scooter behind a faded For Sale sign and walk back to the house.
He’d never had a key, because there were always guards to let you in. After a wary glance at the security cameras, Julius stayed close to the wall as he jogged down the alleyway to the service gate at the rear.
He’d seen no sign of life from the front. Through the rear gate, he realised there was no sound or exhaust coming from the generator building, and while he couldn’t see every roof-mounted air-conditioning unit, the ones he could were clogged with dust.
Julius looked at the brushed-steel keypad on the gate pillar and cursed himself for being unable to remember the code.
The numbers wouldn’t come, but muscle memory saved him. Moving his finger from the one to seven felt wrong. It was one, three, seven. There was definitely an eight … Unless they’ve changed the code …
There was a satisfying click, followed by a squealing hinge as Julius pushed.
Flies fizzed around the big waste container behind the generator building. Julius lifted the lid, enough to catch a stench and see fresh vegetable shavings.
The door at the back of the kitchen was locked, so Julius cut around the front. The Lexus looked dustier from close up, but the scuffed VW van had its sliding side door open. Its interior had a hydraulic ramp and a metal frame to stabilise a wheelchair.
The front door was locked too. Julius had almost reached the point where he’d decided to ring the front doorbell and hope someone friendly answered, when he saw a gap in the sliding doors on the pool deck.
He remembered the twins out on the tiles, playing music and acting like bullying dicks if he wanted to swim. The pool filter gurgled, and the water was chlorinated.
The living room had lights and a ceiling fan turning. Julius recalled that on a bright day the solar roof panels were enough to run Orisa’s kitchen and keep his mother comfortably cool in her office.
The furniture looked the same, though there were crumbs on the carpet and a wheeled table, designed for a wheelchair to park underneath. Julius knew Taiwo had been paralysed since the Mercedes ambush, but the plate with food cut small and a two-handled drinking cup made it real.