man in a cassock was watering these with a hosepipe. Makana recognised him as the sturdy fighter who had just been in the ring with Father Macarius.
‘You told me Meera used to help out here, teaching the boys to read.’
‘She was a charitable woman and will be sorely missed.’ Father Macarius pulled up suddenly and turned to Makana. ‘I don’t want the church drawn into this.’
‘The church is not only drawn into this, Father, it’s right at the centre of it. The murder of these boys is directly linked to your church and to Meera’s death.’
‘We can’t allow this. They will close us down.’
‘They are already closing you down.’ Makana paused. ‘Father, the other day you wanted to tell me something. What was that?’
‘Oh, I’m such a fool,’ the priest chastised himself.
‘I’m not the police, Father. It doesn’t have to go any further than me.’
‘I wish I could believe that.’ Father Macarius took a step away and then he turned back to face Makana. ‘It all happened a long time ago.’
‘Is it connected to the murders?’
‘I’m not sure, but I think it might be. I can’t tell you any more. Not yet. I need time.’
Makana watched him walk away, disappearing into the church with his athletic walk, the swaying black robes melting into the shadows. Back inside the gym, Makana found Antun mopping the floor by the entrance to the toilets. He looked up, his eyes wide. There was a strange, other-worldly quality to Antun.
‘Do you know this man they call Rocky?’
‘Rocky?’ Antun echoed.
‘Yes, Rocky. He used to box here.’ Across the room Makana caught sight of Ishaq scowling at him from behind a punchbag as one of the others hit it over and over. As he watched him, Ishaq let go of the bag and came towards him.
‘What do you want from Antun?’
‘This doesn’t concern you.’
‘Antun concerns us.’ Ishaq smiled. ‘What happened to your face? Did someone take offence to your sticking your nose in everywhere?’
There was a snigger of laughter and Makana realised that four of Ishaq’s friends had also moved to form a loose ring around him.
‘I go for Abouna,’ Antun muttered.
‘Leave Macarius alone,’ Ishaq ordered. ‘We can deal with this.’ Stepping closer, he said, ‘Why do you keep coming round here?’
‘I’m looking for Rocky.’
‘Oh yeah, a friend of yours, is he?’
‘I just want to talk to him.’
‘You’re wasting your time.’
‘What can you tell me about him?’
Ishaq shrugged. ‘He used to turn up here to box, about five years ago. He was in the army. He likes young boys. Now he runs a group of beggar kids. I swear some of them are not more than ten years old. He picks them up off the street and uses them like dogs. I wouldn’t stand for it. I swear, any man who tried to do that to me, I’d take a knife and cut his throat.’
‘Why do you say I’m wasting my time?’
‘He has protection.’
‘What kind of protection?’
‘The kind that makes you immune to stupid questions,’ said Ishaq as he brushed by, making sure his shoulder knocked into Makana’s. The others followed behind him.
There didn’t seem to be much more to be gained here. As he left he heard someone calling him and turned to see the shopkeeper from the other night hurrying after him.
‘Is there any news, I mean about that poor boy we found?’
‘No, no news,’ said Makana. ‘Have you spoken to the police?’
‘The police took the body away and left.’ The man glanced over his shoulder. ‘After that we haven’t seen them. Everybody is scared. I am afraid. For my family, for my business. One of these days . . .’ He shook his head in anticipation of the worst.
‘There is somebody I am trying to find. Maybe you can help me?’
‘Who is it? Just tell me. I know everyone in this neighbourhood.’
‘He used to box. People call him Rocky.’
The man drew back. ‘What do you want with him?’
‘What can you tell me about him?’
‘Nothing,’ said the man, his eyes cold. ‘I can tell you nothing. I have a family. You understand? I have children. Little boys.’
‘I understand.’
‘No. No, you don’t.’ The man made to move away when something made him stop. He was clearly scared, but he turned and led the way, and five minutes later they came to the corner of a narrow street. The man pointed at a building.
‘That’s where you will find him,’ he said.
When Makana looked back he was already walking away. A scattering of used coffee grounds had turned