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
‘I’m not paid enough for this …’ Carlos moaned, holding his back as he straightened up.
Now they felt safe, Alex and Georgia stepped around the sofas to get a better look. Julius was a beached whale, splayed over the collapsed table, with the syringes in his arse still swaying from side to side.
ONE
One Year Earlier: St Gilda’s High School – Akure, Nigeria
The bell had already signalled the end of school. Boys spilled into crisply air-conditioned hallways in white shirts and grey shorts, stripping ties as they headed for home.
Julius Adebisi was a fourteen-year-old in a hurry, but his class remained trapped behind desks. Their form teacher peered over gold-rimmed sunglasses, speaking with the deliberate authority of a former army officer.
‘While I am not averse to members of form 9C using this classroom for study during the lunch period, I do not find it acceptable if I return here to find food wrappings about the place, obscenities on my whiteboard and general disarray of the chairs and tables. If this happens again, my classroom will be locked. Is that understood?’
A lukewarm groan of yes, sir swept the room.
Julius jiggled his black shoe as the teacher paused. Come on, come on, come on …
‘Class dismissed.’
Chairs grated the floor. Julius hooked an overstuffed backpack on one shoulder and grabbed the battered shortboard propped against his desk.
‘Coming through. Major hurry!’ Julius shouted.
He was the biggest kid in 9C. But he wasn’t the strongest and at least one tough guy didn’t like being shoved.
‘Sorry!’
Most classes had been dismissed at the bell. But while the hallway had mostly emptied, there was a scrum by the doors at the far end and Julius thought it would be quicker to go out the back way. He almost dropped his board as he barged a door, exiting the school playing fields.
St Gilda’s grounds were immaculate. Bright blue tennis courts and six all-weather pitches, the largest surrounded by an athletics track. Beyond the track was a shaded grandstand with green and orange seats and a podium used for graduations.
But donations from wealthy parents couldn’t control Akure’s air. It was thirty-two degrees and it hadn’t rained for a couple of days. With nothing to flush the open sewers in the city’s slum areas, the afternoon breeze brought a strong kick of garbage and human shit.
Julius jogged through the heat haze around the building housing the school’s diesel generators, then through soccer players walking down from the girls’ school. He thought he’d probably left things too late when he glanced around the school’s main building into a jostling parking lot.