'So you brought in the SAS?’ Rebus suggested. Father Leary was slow to get the joke.
'Not at all,' he said, `just a young man, a very ordinary young man but with inner strength.’
His fist cut the air. 'Spiritual strength. And for a while it looked like a disaster. Nobody came to the club, the windows were smashed as soon as we'd replaced them, the graffiti got worse and more personal. But then he started to break through. That seemed the miracle. Attendance at the club increased, and both sides were joining.’
'So what's gone wrong?’
Father Leary loosened his shoulders. 'It just wasn't quite right. I thought there'd be sports, maybe a football team or something. We bought the strips and applied to join a local league. But the lads weren't interested. All they wanted to do was hang around the hall itself. And the balance isn't there either, the Catholics have stopped joining. Most of them have even stopped attending.’
He looked at Rebus. 'That's not just sour grapes, you understand.’
Rebus nodded. 'The Prod gangs have annnexed it?’
'I'm not saying that exactly.’
Sounds like it to me. And your… outreach worker?’
`His name's Peter Cave. Oh, he's still there. Too often for my liking.’
'I still don't see the problem.’
Actually he could, but he wanted it spelling out.
`John, I've talked to people on the estate, and all over Pilmuir. The gangs are as bad as ever, only now they seem to be working together, divvying the place up between them. All that's happened is that they've become more organised. They have meetings in the club and carve up the surrounding territory.’