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
- Discover more books and sign up to the Robert Muchamore mailing list at muchamore.com
- Have you read KILLER T?
- 1 SLASHED RUBBER
- 2 NOT HARRY POTTER
Duke accelerated hard, taking Julius by surprise and almost throwing him off the back. The modern roads in the gated estate made it easy to ride fast. They buzzed up onto pavement, skimming through an open pedestrian gate next to the traffic booth. After the development’s barren access road, they merged into late-morning traffic on the beltway.
Julius didn’t mind the sweat slick inside his shirt, the potholes or the diesel haze as the bike cut between lines of static trucks and dilapidated buses rammed with bodies. He felt free and uncharacteristically optimistic.
Biting Collins’s nose had flipped a switch. Julius’s bulk and surname had always offered some protection, but damaging Collins had made St Gilda’s bullies wary. It also helped Julius understand why Duke acted the way he did: it was better to be yourself and take shit than live miserably by pretending to be something you’re not.
‘I’ve not had breakfast and I know a place,’ Duke said, able to speak as they caught sluggish traffic close to Akure’s centre.
Transport Union officials marshalled all roads into the town centre. The scooter queued for ten minutes at a union roadblock. Duke handed three hundred naira to a fake gangsta with a black eye and gold tooth. A bored woman wrote the bike’s registration on a green ticket and passed it to Duke before they crawled another half-kilometre, swerving around pedestrians with eyes on stalls selling Chinese-made clothes and cheap housewares.
Duke locked his bike to a fence with a heavy chain and was rapidly surrounded by powerfully built men.
‘Five hundred to keep it safe!’ the biggest one demanded.
Duke shook his head and offered two.
‘Five hundred,’ the thug repeated, tapping his ear as if to say Are you deaf?
‘No man ever paid five hundred to chain a bike,’ Duke spat as he took out his keys and grabbed his padlock to free the bike.
‘You do not have that option!’ the man shouted, forcing himself between Duke and his scooter. ‘You lock, you pay.’
An older fellow with horrendous body odour chimed in. ‘We have to eat, you fancy boy!’ the meaty sweat-glazed head boomed. ‘He come to our corner and fix chain, he gotta pay our price, yeah?’
Five goons and a couple of hanger-on kids jeered in agreement. Julius felt useless as Duke bitterly handed over five hundred naira.
‘I’ll pay your five hundred,’ Julius told Duke as they walked away. ‘It’s not worth spoiling your mood.’
‘Five hundred to chain a scooter to a fence!’ Duke said, shaking his head. ‘It’s never more than three, but all my fault for chaining up before asking. But we’ll have pies to die for!’
The two teens jostled their way into a grubby concrete shopping precinct. The shops were busy and market stalls sold higher-end stuff like jewellery, sunglasses and fancy fabric.