Raucous by Ben Paul Dunn Page A

been.  There was no way of putting a single piece together to make a whole.  They would be this way forever.  There was nothing they could offer, nothing that they held that could help people like this.  But they were alive, there was a way in.  They couldn’t be a danger, not yet, if ever.  The past, the years as infants as adolescents as teenagers was nothing.  They had one incomplete illogical dream, one nightmare that repeated night after night and yet they had come.  First Jim, then Parker, then Raucous.  They were being pushed into a single lane that went forward without their control.  Everyone asked, insinuated demanded but explained nothing.  They seemed to be waiting for an internal epiphany.  They had come, they had been found and there was no way of stepping back.  But they were pushing and waiting, waiting for them to say something they needed to hear.  Seventeen years in institution and nothing was left.  This was a new life with no escape.  Mitch could not understand.  But he knew he had to try to find a way through to the end.  The old rules he had created to keep them safe were no longer holding, no longer valid.  The system of holding themselves together was broken, the wrong frame for the present state.  He looked through the open window above the kitchen table.  He saw the dark clouds mixing with the white, the Christmas illuminations that were never taken down.  He rose and dressed.  He had made his decision.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
    Raucous tried to hide his emotion.  He could do it well, and when he failed, he masked what old men would call weakness in pure anger.  He had envisaged this moment, sometimes he killed, sometimes he spoke, mostly he tortured.  But not now.  He had a different outcome, he had been convinced.  Hold it back, he thought.  Now is not the time.
    Turk was sat at the restaurant table.  The restaurant was his, the food was cooked by a chef with equal skill in food preparation and perversion.  The Turk ate one and fuelled the other.  There were no Michelin stars, no notoriety, but famous people came to eat and the Turk entertained them through free dinners and the finest Italian wines.
    Turk had told him to be there at nine, to dress as smart as he could and to say nothing beyond pleasantries. 
    Raucous entered through the darkened glass doors.  The interior was mock Atlantic city from the 1920’s.  Circular tables, fine cutlery sets of silver and the waiters looked like they idolized a clean-cut Charlie Chaplin.  All the tables were full, the higher classes, important men with women who accepted the money they could give in exchange for indifference and the role of a fashion accessory to impress their friends.  Expensive cars and pretty, obedient wives or lovers defined the importance of a man.  There were many important men and the conversation revolved around money and power.
    The Maître D’ recognized Raucous.  He moved forward, walking as if on skates.  A drift and then he arrived.  He told Raucous to follow.   They walked through the crowded room, through the wall of chatter, faces turned to see if Raucous was important enough for a hello.  He received no greetings.  A wooden swing door with a circular glass window opened at the smallest push from the Maître D’ and a small white room was revealed.  There was a table, without cloth or cutlery and the Turk and an expensive suit sat waiting for Raucous. The Turk looked away from the suit to watch Raucous stand uncomfortably inside the closed door.  The Maître D’ left without word.  Turk spoke.
    “Here he is.  The new man.”
    The Suit turned, an elderly man, thick white hair with longer strands above his ears.  He had large grey eyes, full of confidence and arrogance.  Raucous looked into them, and hid his emotion. 
    “You probably know who I am,” the Suit said. 
    “Enlighten me; I’ve been away for a while.”
    The suit stood and offered Raucous an outstretched