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investigation. That goes without saying. Important questions will be asked.”
    “Of course.”

8

A Boxer
    The marketplace was in a wide-open expanse with a few scattered factory buildings and garages as the only neighbors. The final heat in the tractor race had just finished and the exhaust fumes still lay thick over the field as they pulled up in front of a large tent. The market buzzed with activity, the stalls rang with calls and shouts and everyone seemed to have a glass of beer in their hand and a smile on their face.
    “Party and commerce in splendid union,” Andrew said. “Don’t suppose you have anything like this in Norway.”
    “Well, we have markets. They’re called
markeder
.”
    “Maaar …” Andrew essayed.
    “Never mind.”
    By the marquee there were some huge posters proclaiming “The Jim Chivers Boxing Team” in big red letters. Below were pictures of the ten boxers who obviously comprised the team. Name, age, birthplace and weight of each were also given. At the bottom was: “The Challenge. Are you up to it?”
    Inside, young men were queuing by a table to sign a piece of paper.
    “What’s going on?” Harry asked.
    “These are young men from the area who are going to try and beat some of Jimmy’s boxers. If they can there aregreat rewards, and even more important, local honor and fame. Now they’re signing a declaration that they’re fit and healthy and have accepted that the arranger will not take any responsibility for any sudden deterioration in their physical condition,” Andrew explained.
    “Sheesh, is that legal?”
    “Well …” Andrew hesitated. “There was a kind of ban in 1971, so they had to change the procedure a bit. The original Jim Chivers led a boxing team that traveled round the whole country to rallies and fairs after the Second World War. Many of those who went on to become boxing champions were from Jimmy’s team. There was always a variety of nationalities—Chinese, Italians, Greeks. And Aboriginals. In those days volunteers could choose who they wanted to box. So, for example, if you were an anti-Semite, you could pick out a Jew. Even though the chances of being beaten up by a Jew were pretty high.”
    Harry chuckled. “Doesn’t that just stoke up racism?”
    “Maybe. Maybe not. Australians are used to living with different cultures and races, but there’s always some friction. And then it’s better to have a scrap in the ring than in the streets. An Aboriginal guy in Jimmy’s team who did well would have been a hero to his own wherever he came from. He created a tiny sense of solidarity and honor in all the humiliation. I don’t think it widened the gulf between the races, either. If the white boys were given a hiding by a black boy it created more respect than hatred. Australians are pretty sporting on that front.”
    “You sound like a fully signed-up redneck.”
    Andrew laughed. “Almost, I’m an ocker. An uncivilized bloke from the outback.”
    “You are not.”
    Andrew laughed even louder.
    The first bout started. A short, compact red-haired guy with his own gloves and his own gang of supporters against a much smaller man from the Chivers team.
    “Mick against Mick,” Andrew said with a knowledgeable expression.
    “Your sixth sense?” Harry asked.
    “My two eyes. Red hair, so Irish. Tough buggers. This is going to be a hard fight.”
    “Go, Johnny, go-go-go!” the gang chanted.
    They managed two more choruses before the fight was over. By then Johnny had been punched on the nose three times and didn’t want to go on.
    “The Irish aren’t what they were,” Andrew sighed.
    The speakers crackled, and the MC introduced Robin “The Murri” Toowoomba from the Chivers camp and Bobby “The Lobby” Pain, a local giant who entered the ring with a leap over the ropes and a roar. He pulled off his T-shirt and revealed a powerful hairy chest and bulging biceps. A woman dressed in white was jumping up and down close by the ring, and Bobby