Julius walked slowly, so as not to arouse suspicion. He was in an alleyway used only by trash and delivery vehicles. Thick walls on either side marked the boundary of two compounds, each topped with electrified wire and CCTV. Besides the walls around individual compounds, there were massive outer walls enclosing the entire development. Julius had rolled through thousands of times in a car and never given the space much thought, but on foot the empty pavement, red tarmac and long blank walls felt like a surreal maze.

‘Cigarette, soldier?’ an overweight private sat behind a gate across the street shouted, with a strong Hausa accent. ‘I’m all out and not halfway into my shift.’

‘Don’t smoke,’ Julius said, quickening his stride.

‘I’ve not seen you around,’ the young soldier said, pressing his doughy cheeks between the bars like a bored zoo animal. ‘Are you new? Where you posted? The Adebisi place?’

‘Adebisi,’ Julius confirmed. ‘I’m in a hurry, sorry!’

‘All that textile money, but the Godmother don’t give no sun shade!’ the soldier said, before erupting in a deep laugh.

Julius had read news articles where Bunmi got called the Godmother, but even St Gilda’s thugs didn’t make jabs about his mother, lest Collins or the twins found out.

As he strode briskly past a cart sweeping non-existent dirt from the gutter, Julius guiltily realised he’d never considered how the guards sat by the compound gate without shade.

Those guards must really hate me … They were kids who’d joined the army to escape rural poverty, watching Julius ride chauffeured limousines, or skate the compound in sneakers that cost more than an army private earned in two months.

But these thoughts were wiped when Julius saw Duke, squatting on the kerb, with his scooter leaning against a high purple wall.

‘Jailbreak!’ Duke said, standing up and high-fiving as both lads cracked huge smiles.

‘Walk took longer than expected,’ Julius said, taking a furtive glance behind, before giving Duke a hug.

Julius had been tantalised by forbidden glimpses of Duke at school and hours bouncing messages on his secret phone. Now his best friend was real. The slender limbs, wild hair and dusty skin after a long ride south.

‘We should probably get out of here,’ Duke said.

‘How was the ride out?’

‘It’s the furthest I’ve been,’ Duke replied. ‘The beltway’s smooth. No cops around. Biggest problem was getting through the gate into this compound. I babbled something about collecting a suit for dry cleaning.’ Duke undid a buckle holding a spare helmet to the back of the bike. ‘Catch!’

‘Safety first!’ Julius laughed, getting a whiff of old sweat as he pulled the thick foam over his head.

‘Six thousand in the market,’ Duke explained. ‘It’s beaten up, but nobody will recognise you with that on.’