When Makana arrived outside the police station a spectacle awaited him. The crowd from the previous day had swelled both in size and, it appeared, outrage. ‘Deliver him to us and we will show him our own justice!’ ‘Typical police corruption, arresting an innocent man!’ It seemed they were not all in agreement with one another. At the top of the steps Sadig was grinning with delight. Nothing he enjoyed more than the sight of people at each other’s throats. ‘What’s all this about?’ asked Makana. ‘We’ve got him.’ ‘You’ve got who?’ ‘The killer. The one who cut up the Qadi.’ Sadig rearraranged his beret on his head. ‘So lucky for you we won’t be arresting you, and we won’t be needing your help any more,’ he said with undisguised satisfaction. ‘Not that you’ve actually done anything for us.’ Inside, Makana found further pandemonium. What was going on exactly wasn’t clear. The families of the two victims had been let inside and were now busy harassing the officers whose job it was to hold them back.
