Rage changed to dull loathing as the car crawled through school traffic. As Julius stared at the lights on the dashboard, he was startled by knuckles tapping on the driver’s side window. A body-built Transport Union thug had his face close to the glass, while the road ahead had been blocked with rusted oil drums.

‘Our cars never get stopped,’ Gabe told his friends curiously as he leaned between the front seats.

The driver lowered his window, but instead of a rolled banknote, he confidently flicked an ID, showing he was part of Governor Adebisi’s security detail. The goon looked at the card with contempt, then pounded on the metal roof. This was a signal for half a dozen union officials to swarm the car.

‘Up your ass to the governor’s office!’ the man leaning in the window shouted furiously. ‘He let the precinct be torn away from us. Now we move patrols out here and you pay like everyone else!’

The men outside shouted agreement and several thumped on the hood. The driver wasn’t going to risk the car getting scratched or losing a door mirror for the sake of two hundred naira and handed over the money. But the man at the window pointed at Julius and wagged a finger.

‘I have seen you in photographs,’ he said. ‘Tell your mother to dial back this aggression. People have died. For what?’

Before Julius could answer, the driver blasted his horn and rolled off, fast enough to scatter the men in front of the car.

‘Don’t tell your mother I paid a bribe,’ the driver begged Julius. ‘It will come from my own pocket.’

‘I’m not the snitch in this car,’ Julius said sourly, cutting a backwards glance that made Gabe freeze.

Orisa had prepared kebabs, fries and Fanta for Gabe and his friends. She still seemed sore at Julius and made no attempt to enforce Bunmi’s no food upstairs rule as he put skewers on a plate and walked to his room.

Julius switched on his air conditioner and threw open the curtains. The sun had broken through, turning the afternoon rains into a heat haze, but he could still see the soldiers on the gate. One was the guy who’d sold Julius the army cap and jacket, and he wondered what he might charge for a revolver and a box of bullets.

His thoughts switched to Duke as he pulled off his shoes. Remi was struggling for money, and Julius imagined Duke getting his teeth looked at by one of the dubiously qualified dentists who set up in slum areas or rooms behind shops. The thought depressed Julius so much he buried himself in bedclothes and listened enviously to Gabe and his friends, bantering as they played Call of Duty in the room next door.

He’d just dozed off when his mother stormed in without knocking.