Cosmo slammed the phone receiver into its cradle and rubbed his eyes. He checked the rest of the third floor to ensure no one had overheard the short argument. All the makeshift cubicles were empty. Normally Kumar and Raju would have been in the office, but they hadn’t returned from lunch yet.

Cosmo hadn’t handled himself in the most godly manner during the heated conversation. He was glad the only apology he had to make was to God directly. Apologies aside, he still had to resolve the issue at hand.

He took the stairs several at a time and reached the lobby without encountering any of The Winning Team’s staff or volunteers. Most of them were attending a local football match. Cosmo kicked open the back exit and stepped into the alley.

Waiting for him were two burly men dressed in suits. “I’m glad you chose to meet sooner rather than later. The issue we have to discuss is rather time sensitive, seeing how elections are next week.”

“As I said over the phone,” Cosmo’s anger boiled quickly, “this conversation is not going to happen.”

“It never happened.” The spokesperson among the pair grinned.

Cosmo shook his head. “I’m not accepting money with strings attached. Donations only. No favors. No caveats.”

The suit tapped the briefcase at his side. “You’re the one who asked for the contribution. You know how the system works. My boss is already counting on your support.”

“I asked for a charitable donation, for which I will account and provide detailed receipts.”

“My boss isn’t interested in receipts. He’s interested in results.”

Cosmo stood firm. “My results are plainly visible. Hundreds of volunteers serving thousands of children and young people every week.”

“Those are not the sort of results my boss pays for, and you know it.”

“I’m under no obligation to deliver any other kind.” Cosmo stepped closer. His buttoned shirt and collar didn’t reflect the wealth or connectedness of the suits. His trousers didn’t speak of his fighting prowess. But his reputation spoke more loudly than any of those things.

These two men were clearly aware of Cosmo’s reputation—one that demanded you came with a dozen men if you intended to make threats. The fact they’d come as a pair revealed the nature of their visit. “My boss will be disappointed you’ve chosen that stance.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I had hoped his giving to be motivated by charity rather than selfish gain.”

Kumar and Raju rounded the corner as the suits turned to go.

The spokesman between the two suits laughed. “Everyone and everything is motivated by selfish gain. You should have learned that by now, Zimik.”

“If that’s how you feel, I suggest you keep your money and stop wasting my time.” Cosmo got in the last words as the suits brushed past Kumar and Raju.

Kumar watched the suits disappear around the corner. “What’s up?”

Cosmo didn’t want to go into it. While disappointed at losing the money, mostly he was upset at being naive enough to think his old friends would give simply to improve their karma. “A potential donor wasn’t satisfied with our results.”

Raju stared back and forth between Kumar and Cosmo. “What do they want? A sermon from the gold medal stand at the World Cup? Maybe we could part the waters of the Bay of Bengal and walk across to Burma.”

Cosmo shook his head. “They’ve got different ambitions than we do, less godly ones.”

“Much less.” Kumar added.

“Ah.” Raju put the pieces together.

“It’s nothing.” Cosmo sighed. “We won’t be bothered by them again.”

“We won’t be asking them for any more money, either.” Kumar said.

“What about the budget for this year’s Kenya Open?” Raju asked.

Cosmo gestured them inside. He opened the door and followed them up the stairs, talking as they went. “It’s a big expense.”

“Between the twelve players going, we know a dozen languages. We’ll be able to counsel and share with players from all over India and parts of Asia.” Raju built his case.

“I know.” Cosmo reached the third floor. “I want the team to go. Even if we don’t win like last year, it will be a great opportunity.”

“And the money for the plane tickets?” Raju shifted papers on his desk.

Still standing at the top of the stairs, Cosmo pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll find it. God will provide it somehow.”

“And the rest?” Kumar asked.

“We’ll have to trust God.” Cosmo paced the room.

Kumar plopped down in a chair with a torn cushion. “We can’t expect the team to sleep on the street and eat nothing but roasted dog.”

“We still have a couple of weeks. I’ll make some asks.”

Kumar sighed. “It seems like only yesterday when we didn’t have to make asks. The money just came in.”

Raju slipped on a pair of sparring gloves. “I’ve had enough of the office for today. Kumar,” he danced around jabbing the air, “how about you and I head down to the gym. It’s time for some of our kids to show up.”

“I wish I could.” Kumar laced his hands behind his head.

Raju continued his shadow boxing directly in front of Kumar’s face. “What’s so important you can’t work out for an hour?”

“I got a few more things to wrap up here.”

“You’ve changed, bro.” Raju tutted.

Kumar stood and shuffled toward his cubicle. “Half an hour, okay?”

“Fine, fine. I can find something to distract me for that long.”

Fifteen minutes later, Cosmo started at a crashing sound from downstairs.

Kumar looked up. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Thieves?” Raju rubbed his eyes, having fallen asleep at his desk.

Cosmo rushed to the window for a view of the street below. “Militants.”

“What?” Kumar pulled a knife out from beneath his desk.

“Kumar.” Cosmo nearly shouted as he rushed toward his compatriot. Instinctively, he batted the weapon out of Kumar’s hand. “No weapons.”

Kumar ground his teeth but made no effort to fetch the knife.

“Come on.” Cosmo led the charge down the two flights of stairs. Their footsteps betrayed their arrival. By the time they reached the lobby, the last of the militants had fled through a broken window.

Raju pursued as far as the street corner.

Cosmo didn’t have the heart. He surveyed the damage. In addition to the window, they’d broken down the front doors, smashed the lights and spattered cans of paint across the floor and walls.

His first thought was that he could have used the cans of paint. His next thought was that The Winning Team had suffered a losing season.