Lomba laughs shakily. The locks and chains have shaken him more than he thought possible. James’s lesson is direct and effective, like a blow to the stomach.

A week after the trip to Badagry, Lomba is in James’s car; they are on their way to the office after a visit to the National Union of Journalists’ office in Victoria Island. The sun is low in the sky, tickling its spherical belly on the treetops and tall buildings; but it illumines less and less, and the heat increases.

‘It’ll definitely rain,’ James predicts, glancing up through the windscreen at the low sun.

A girl, tall and fair, waiting by the roadside, makes Lomba think of Sarimam. They have the same way of holding their heads, bent a little, expectant. He wonders where she is now; probably with her new lover.

‘You’ll find somebody else. You’ll love again,’ she told him at the door before she left. She sounded experienced about it, as if he was just one in a long line of somebody elses for her. If only he had been able to tell at the outset that he was just being used as a rest station, a brief stop for refuelling… The beep of James’s mobile phone brings his mind back to the present.

‘Yes? Adam… hello…’ He has one hand on the wheel; the other holds the phone to his ear.

‘What breaking news? Dele, Dele… who? Dead?!’ His voice shoots up, and Lomba stares at him curiously.

‘Wait, let me park…’ He turns to Lomba. ‘It is Adam, from the office. He says they just got a report that Dele Giwa has been killed by a bomb.’ He turns the car off the road abruptly, veering a bit too far on to the grass verge before coming to a stop.

‘Adam, go on. I am listening…’

When he finally puts the phone down, he turns to Lomba.

‘I don’t believe this.’

Dele Giwa is – was – the founding editor of Newswatch Magazine, and the loudest voice against continued military rule in the country. He was among James’s few close friends. James is staring through the windscreen at the empty road ahead.

‘A bomb,’ Lomba says, wanting to hear more.

‘A letter bomb. It exploded as he unsealed it. He died at the hospital. Bomb. What a way to go,’ James says. His eyes are still blank, still staring ahead. Lomba wonders what he is thinking. Finally, James starts the car. ‘I told Adam we’ll meet him at the office. We’ll go to the hospital together.’ Then he adds quietly, ‘I have a feeling this is going to be a very long day.’

They do not meet Adam at the office; he stops them a block away from the office, appearing suddenly before them – as if he has been there waiting for a long time – waving frantically.