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Shehu gasped, making a wheezing sound as he struggled to breathe. Next to him, also plastered to the smouldering mattress, Amaka coughed. The smoke was so thick that they couldn’t see each other.

Another swoosh and a gust of white smoke blew over their backs and cooled their exposed necks.

‘Is anybody there?’ a voice shouted.

Swoosh. A fire extinguisher ate up the flames clinging to the ceiling along the corridor. Swoosh. Swoosh.

‘Yes!’ both Amaka and Shehu shouted back. They stood and spread their hands out into the white cloud.

A tall man in khaki shorts, his lean muscular body glistening with sweat, led Amaka and Shehu down a charred staircase and out of the building past men rushing in with fire extinguishers. The gate was wide open. A dog barked in the background. Everywhere there were people tackling the blaze, breaking windows to pour water onto the flames. A woman kneeling at the edge of the swimming pool was scooping water into pails and passing them to a chain of people that extended into the building. More people with fire extinguishers rushed in through the gates: housemaids, gatemen, gardeners, children, and the homeowners of the neighbourhood. The siren of a fire engine grew louder from down the road.

The tall man led Amaka and Shehu onto the road where people surrounded them. Someone brought plastic chairs but Amaka stood. Shehu sat and took a full blast of water in the face from an old lady with grey cornrows. With water from the plastic bowl in her hand, she wiped sweat and soot from Shehu’s face.

All around them people were talking and asking questions.

‘Madam, is anybody else in the house?’ the man who had led them out asked.

‘No. Nobody,’ Amaka said.

Shehu coughed. The old lady sprinkled more water on his face, backing away from the road to make way for the fire engine.

‘My driver will take you to the hospital,’ the woman said. ‘You, you look familiar,’ she said to Amaka. What is your name?’

‘Mrs. Bakare, you don’t remember me? I’m Amaka, Emma’s friend.’

‘I thought I recognised you,’ the lady said. ‘What happened? What were you doing in that house?’

That house, Amaka thought.

Shehu coughed.

‘We need to get him to the hospital,’ Amaka said, looking into Shehu’s eyes. ‘He’s asthmatic.’

Shehu continued coughing into his hand while the driver hurried off to fetch his madam’s car.

‘I know about your asthma,’ Amaka said in the back of a speeding 1980 Mercedes S-Class.

‘How?’ Shehu asked.

Amaka looked at her phone, which had started vibrating, as she answered Shehu. ‘After I saw you in Ojo’s suite at Eko hotel, I found out everything I could about you.’

‘Ojo.’ Shehu shook his head. ‘You need to release those videos. You need to make sure he doesn’t have a chance in hell of becoming governor.’

Amaka held her phone out. ‘I will do whatever it takes. Listen, I need to take this call. It’s urgent.’

Shehu nodded.

‘Ibrahim,’ Amaka said. ‘Yes, yes, I got out. Did you get him?’

She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and exhaled ‘OK. Listen, I’m on my way to Oshodi. Remember Chioma?… Yes. Her ex-boyfriend asked her to meet him there…. Yes, the person responsible for her brother’s death.’ She turned to Shehu. ‘I need your keys.’

‘What?’

‘Your car keys. I need to be somewhere and it’s urgent.’

‘My keys?’ Shehu began searching his pockets. ‘Why?’

‘I bashed my car into the back of his. I need a car the police won’t stop.’

‘Oh. I get it now. But, shouldn’t you get checked out at the hospital at least?’

‘No, I’m fine. You go to the hospital; I need to get to Oshodi. A girl’s life is at risk.’

Amaka caught the elderly driver’s eyes looking at her in the mirror. He’d been listening. ‘Madam said I should take you to her hospital,’ the man said.

Amaka leaned forward and wrapped her hand around the headrest of the passenger seat in front. ‘Sir,’ she said to the driver, ‘our cars are on Ozumba Mbadiwe. You can drop me and take him to the hospital, but you have to drive faster than this.’

The old man searched for Shehu’s face in the mirror.

‘You heard her,’ Shehu said. He turned to Amaka. ‘You’ll explain later, abi?’ He handed her the keys to his wife’s Prius.

The driver floored the throttle and the 1980s V6 engine responded with a growl that thrust the two-tonne limousine forward as if it had been at standstill all along.