Arctic Zoo, page 35
He wheeled the scooter out of the cage and down a short hallway. Out in sun, the engine had a debate before starting, and since Julius hadn’t ridden in two years, he decided to practise, riding figure-eights around the concourse. The sun dazzled, but over several circuits, Julius noticed how concrete around one of the pillars was cleaner than everywhere else.
Where they scrubbed Duke’s blood …
Julius couldn’t look once he’d seen it. He throttled up angrily and blasted on to the street. He was a wary rider. Taking it slow, getting the feel for steering and earning honks from more experienced riders when he stopped rather than brave narrow gaps in traffic.
A roadblock took a couple of the two-hundreds he’d rolled up while eating breakfast. A tiny paper ticket gave him a pass for the rest of day, provided he didn’t lose it.
Pedestrians didn’t look, and truck drivers seemed to target scooters for sport, but Julius’s major fear was cops. Traffic police rarely wasted bribe-earning time arresting people, but they’d clean out his wallet for riding without a licence.
Julius tensed as he took the ramp on to the beltway, but while some cars moved scarily fast, he soon realised the straight road was less stressful than city traffic.
‘Young Julius,’ the guard on the development’s main gate said brightly. ‘Very long time! And taller than ever.’
Julius had worried about being let in. Now he’d been recognised, he worried the guard might tip someone off. After public roads, the deserted streets of the gated development felt like carpet. Unsure what he’d find at his former home, he buzzed past slowly.
The perimeter wall was unchanged, but there were no soldiers on the front gate. Between the heavy bars, he saw a dust-coated Lexus that couldn’t have moved in weeks and a battered VW minivan.
Julius stopped at the dust-blown lot where he’d jumped in the helicopter at the start of his exile. He decided to park the scooter behind a faded For Sale sign and walk back to the house.
He’d never had a key, because there were always guards to let you in. After a wary glance at the security cameras, Julius stayed close to the wall as he jogged down the alleyway to the service gate at the rear.
He’d seen no sign of life from the front. Through the rear gate, he realised there was no sound or exhaust coming from the generator building, and while he couldn’t see every roof-mounted air-conditioning unit, the ones he could were clogged with dust.
Julius looked at the brushed-steel keypad on the gate pillar and cursed himself for being unable to remember the code.
The numbers wouldn’t come, but muscle memory saved him. Moving his finger from the one to seven felt wrong. It was one, three, seven. There was definitely an eight … Unless they’ve changed the code …
There was a satisfying click, followed by a squealing hinge as Julius pushed.
Flies fizzed around the big waste container behind the generator building. Julius lifted the lid, enough to catch a stench and see fresh vegetable shavings.
The door at the back of the kitchen was locked, so Julius cut around the front. The Lexus looked dustier from close up, but the scuffed VW van had its sliding side door open. Its interior had a hydraulic ramp and a metal frame to stabilise a wheelchair.
The front door was locked too. Julius had almost reached the point where he’d decided to ring the front doorbell and hope someone friendly answered, when he saw a gap in the sliding doors on the pool deck.
He remembered the twins out on the tiles, playing music and acting like bullying dicks if he wanted to swim. The pool filter gurgled, and the water was chlorinated.
The living room had lights and a ceiling fan turning. Julius recalled that on a bright day the solar roof panels were enough to run Orisa’s kitchen and keep his mother comfortably cool in her office.
The furniture looked the same, though there were crumbs on the carpet and a wheeled table, designed for a wheelchair to park underneath. Julius knew Taiwo had been paralysed since the Mercedes ambush, but the plate with food cut small and a two-handled drinking cup made it real.
Julius thought he heard someone in the kitchen. It was most likely Orisa and part of him wanted to say hello. But he couldn’t be certain, and Orisa liked to think she was the boss when Bunmi wasn’t around. Julius didn’t want a grilling about why he’d come home and what his plans were.
The elegant bannister on the main stairs had been replaced by guide rails for a wheelchair lift. When Julius reached the first floor, he swept past his mother’s office and five bedrooms before stepping into a plant room.
Along with cleaning stuff, there were flashing internet routers, fuse boxes and master switches for everything from the fountain by the front gate to the solar panels on the roof. At the centre of it all were two screens, each split into nine pictures from the CCTV system.
The family rooms weren’t monitored, but there was a camera in the security booth that overlooked the front gate. Julius was sure he’d have been spotted if there was a guard on duty, but it was still good to see the booth empty, while several dead cameras suggested nobody had monitored the system in a while.
As Julius backed out, he heard a soap on the TV in Taiwo’s room. He tried imagining what he’d feel when he saw his brother in a wheelchair.
Focus, focus, focus …
Julius stepped into his own room. The air felt ancient, but the cleaning staff had done their job before the money ran out. Objects stirred memories of his old life. Graphic novels, skateboard parts and St Gilda’s uniform. Most cringeworthy were the girls he’d pinned to the wall to throw people off the scent.
Duke and Georgia would die laughing if they saw …
Julius reached deep under his mattress and was relieved to touch the gun and ammunition clip he’d grabbed on the day of the ambush. He found his old school pack in the bottom of his wardrobe. After tossing schoolbooks that simultaneously felt very familiar and like ancient relics, Julius dropped the gun in the bottom.
He added a couple of polo shirts so the shape of the gun wasn’t obvious, then grabbed a folding knife from the drawer of his desk, checked that his little LED torch had a battery and dropped both in the bag.
Satisfied with his haul, Julius headed quietly back to the stairs. His next stop would be the garage, where the security staff used to keep a good stock of stuff like extendable batons, ammunition, tactical vests and pepper spray to deal with armed thieves or a kidnap attempt.
But Julius only made five steps before his mother’s office opened behind him. He glanced back to see a spiky-haired woman leap into the hallway and before he reached the stairs she’d shot a metal barb into his thigh and zapped him with 50,000 volts.
SEVENTY-TWO
Julius used every swear word he knew as he spasmed into the wall, knocked down his mother’s African Businesswoman of the Year award and collapsed to the floor with his leg twitching violently.
Orisa came rushing up from the kitchen.
‘Burglar,’ the woman shouted anxiously. ‘I thought I heard something while I was putting Taiwo’s washing away …’
‘Don’t,’ Orisa gasped, waving her arms frantically to stop a second zapping. ‘It’s Julius.’
Julius’s legs were jelly as he noticed Taiwo wheeling himself out for a look.
‘Why are you sneaking around?’ Orisa steamed. ‘When did you get back?’
‘Who the hell is she?’ Julius asked, furiously pointing at the spiky-haired woman and feeling queasy as blood oozed into his shorts.
‘My friend Delilah,’ Orisa explained. ‘She helps me with Taiwo. I can’t look after him twenty-four/seven.’
Taiwo was arriving in a powered chair. The mashed food had made Julius imagine some tortured golem, but he didn’t look that different – dressed in a tracksuit, with patterns shaved in his hair. The only sign Taiwo couldn’t get up and walk was a dead left hand and a droop at one side of his mouth.
‘What’s the queer doing here?’ Taiwo asked, slightly slurred.
‘Nice to see you too, bro,’ Julius said.
‘Go back to your TV,’ Delilah told Taiwo.
Julius had never met Delilah, but knew the name of the woman Orisa met up with on her day off. He’d spent his boyhood imagining lunches and shopping trips.
‘Why’s he here?’ Taiwo repeated sourly. ‘Nobody tells me what’s going on.’
As Delilah stewarded Taiwo back to his room, Julius shuffled so that his back was against the wall.
Orisa crouched and looked at the barb, which was still attached to the zapper by two fine lengths of conducting wire.
‘Taiwo’s still a dick,’ Julius said, shaking his head. ‘Your girlfriend’s cute though …’
Orisa soured, before realising Julius was on her side and cracking a slight smile. She snapped the fine wires, then inspected the oval of blood growing in Julius’s shorts.
‘Does it hurt?’ Orisa asked, wiggling the barb slightly.
Julius yowled. ‘It does when you do that.’
‘Such a baby,’ Orisa said, giving the barb a contemptuous tug.
‘Oww, oww, oww, oww!’
Julius imagined a geyser of blood, but it just stung as he undid the top button of his shorts and peeled them down to inspect a wound no bigger than a fly.
‘Lunch?’ Orisa asked as she handed Julius a tissue. ‘I assume you’ll survive the walk …’
Julius limped down with a dead leg and settled on the living room couch with a foot on the coffee table. Delilah came in with clean shorts from Julius’s room and a plaster for the wound.
‘Not my best introduction,’ Delilah apologised. ‘I have heard much about you.’
Orisa was coming through with a bowl of pepper soup on a tray.
‘Don’t be sorry,’ Orisa told her girlfriend. ‘What can he expect, creeping about the place?’
‘I missed your cooking!’ Julius said brightly as he sniffed the bowl.
‘It’s just microwaved,’ Orisa said. Then, more stiffly, ‘So why sneaking around? I do not recall us falling out.’
‘I didn’t know who’d be here,’ Julius said, then blew to cool his first spoon of soup. ‘I’m not the most popular member of this family, in case you haven’t noticed.’
Orisa nodded. ‘You saw my little brother in London?’
‘Ken’s good,’ Julius said. ‘The twins are super cute.’
‘When did you get back?’
‘Yesterday,’ Julius said, then added a lie. ‘I stayed at a hotel.’
‘Do you need money?’ Orisa asked. ‘We’ve not got much, but we muddle through.’
‘It’s weird seeing this house run-down,’ Julius noted. ‘I heard the court froze all Mum’s bank accounts. Is SJ giving you an allowance or something?’
‘Not since the start of the year,’ Orisa said. ‘We’ve lived by selling your mother’s jewellery.’
‘Have you seen her in prison?’ Julius asked as he took a wallet from the back of his shorts.
Orisa nodded. ‘It’s a nasty place. I took Gabe with me the first time and he cried all the way home.’
‘Is Gabe OK?’
‘So popular at school,’ Orisa said. ‘Friends and parties, and an excellent soccer player. But he’s subdued around the house.’
‘He worries,’ Delilah added.
Julius reached across and handed Orisa a pre-paid Visa card. ‘That’s loaded with five thousand UK,’ he explained. ‘Minus twenty thousand naira that I took out of an ATM this morning. The PIN is 3301.’
Orisa exchanged a wary glance with Delilah as she took it. ‘Is this all of your money?’
‘There’s more – don’t worry,’ Julius said. ‘I’m gonna speak to SJ and sort things out.’
Orisa shook her head. ‘He won’t see you. I’ve called twenty times to ask for help and you just get his assistant. I’ve been up to his new apartment. The first time, I waited in the lobby for four and a half hours, before Luke came out and ordered me to leave. The second time, I wasn’t even allowed in the elevator.’
Julius nodded. ‘Everyone at the house in London said SJ was ignoring them. But I can be persuasive.’
‘You’re a boy,’ Orisa scorned. ‘We can look after you here. Things are bad, but family must stick together.’
Julius shook his head. ‘I’m sixteen. The same age my mother was when she started her textile business.’
‘What’s the masterplan?’ Delilah asked.
Julius didn’t answer.
‘I need some things from the garage,’ he said as he grabbed the clean shorts. ‘Then I have to get to St Gilda’s before school kicks out.’
SEVENTY-THREE
Julius’s height made it tough to hide, so he didn’t try. If anyone asked, he’d say he was planning to surprise Gabe when he got out of school.
St Gilda’s main parking lot had the usual mums and bodyguards waiting to pick up kids. Julius walked through the lot, then round the side to a single line of cars parked up against the senior school building.
St Gilda’s had no bays for top-form kids who’d earned driving licences, but some teachers sold their parking stickers. The senior school day was a few minutes from ending when Julius recognised the Mercedes that Collins received for his eighteenth birthday.
For his plan to work, Julius needed to get in the car alongside his cousin, without witnesses or fuss. If Collins arrived with mates or a friend to drop off, Julius would have to think up another plan, or try again the next day.
As the school bell trilled, Julius sat against a giant palm. A couple of guys from his old class stopped for Hi, why are you here? type conversations, but he acted stand-offish and kept a wary eye on the Mercedes.
He watched the senior year’s richest kids ride off in butch pick-ups, Japanese coupes and American muscle cars. By four, the lot was two-thirds empty and Collins’s Mercedes stood out amidst humbler cars owned by teachers.
Collins either had detention or training. The wait frayed Julius’s nerves, but the upside was a lot less people around than at school kick-out time.
It was closer to five when Collins showed, but signs were bad. He was with a line of guys, their football boots scraping the tarmac. Collins had always been more feared than liked and was a brooding, shirtless figure at the back. He had socks pushed down so you could see his shin pads and his training shirt wound around his hand.
A teacher got into a tatty Subaru across the lot as three players kept walking towards the main lot. One player jumped into a Mitsubishi pick-up, while another stopped to admire Collins’s car.
‘Nice wheels,’ the kid said.
Collins glowered wordlessly, making the younger boy scuttle off. Julius felt he only had seconds before Collins got in his car, but it was a huge risk with four soccer players and a teacher nearby.
But while the Subaru drove out and the players got further away, Collins walked around to drop a kitbag in his trunk. He threw Reebok pool sandals down by the back wheel, then leaned against the car to strip off his football boots.
As his cousin balanced on one leg, Julius stepped from behind the big palm. The Mitsubishi was leaving and the soccer players about to turn into the main lot as he made eight long strides. Julius had a hand on the passenger door before Collins even noticed him.
‘Don’t touch my car,’ Collins roared. ‘Hey!’
He ran to the passenger side as Julius slid into a bucket seat.
‘I’ll rip your arms off,’ Collins yelled, tugging the door. ‘Get out!’
‘Need to talk, cuz,’ Julius said as he slid the gun out of the backpack between his legs. ‘If you run, or yell, I’ll shoot ten holes through this fancy car.’
Collins bunched fists and the tendons in his huge neck went rigid. ‘Do you think you’ll get away with this?’
Julius ignored the question. Guns were lethal and noisy, so he kept one hand close to a stun stick hooked to his belt.
‘Take a deep breath,’ Julius urged. ‘Walk around the front and get in.’
There was a smell of armpits as Collins’s torso hit the driver’s seat.
‘Close the door, start the engine.’
‘If I don’t?’ Collins sneered.
‘I loved Duke,’ Julius said coldly. ‘You think I won’t shoot you?’
Julius imagined blasting his cousin’s brains over the Bengal-red leather. It was a satisfying mental image, but he had a job to do.
‘There’s too many people around here,’ he said. ‘I’ve found a spot a few blocks from here.’
There was a blast of rap music as Collins pushed the engine start button. He was impulsive and not very smart, so Julius saw short odds on Collins trying something rash as they rolled out of the school grounds.
It was the lull between school traffic and rush hour. Roads were clear as they drove a kilometre to a row of empty spaces behind a dental surgery that had moved to bigger premises. Duke’s scooter was locked to a sign advertising tooth whitening.
‘Now what?’ Collins asked. ‘If you kill me, my dad will hunt you down.’
‘SJ won’t let anyone in to see him,’ Julius explained. ‘He’s stopped taking my calls, so I need you to phone him.’
Collins’s iPhone was linked to the coupe’s Bluetooth. Julius watched him use buttons on the steering wheel to dial his dad.
‘Uncle?’ Julius said, gesturing for Collins to keep quiet as the call got answered.
‘Who is speaking?’ SJ asked suspiciously. ‘What are you doing with my son’s phone?’
‘Collins is here,’ Julius said.
‘Who is this?’ SJ repeated.
‘Your favourite nephew, Julius. I’m sat in a very nice Mercedes with a gun pointed at Collins. Say hello, Collins.’
‘Dad, he made me drive,’ Collins blurted. ‘I’m at—’
Julius jabbed his cousin with the stun stick.
‘Oh, God, God, God,’ Collins yelled frantically. ‘Dad, send all your guys to Smile Kleen Dental on—’
Julius squeezed the orange trigger, delivering another 250,000-volt spark.
‘Shut your mouth,’ Julius ordered. Then to his uncle, ‘I’ll be gone before anyone gets here. But your future will be a lot brighter if you listen to me for two minutes, right now.’
