Raucous by Ben Paul Dunn Page B

hand.  Raucous took it and the suit, looking toward seventy, held the shake firm and for too long.  His white head came up to the shoulder of Raucous.  His old-age stoop had taken centimeters from his youthful height.  But the guy had worked out a lot in his life, muscles still showed but his paunch said his gym days were long since gone.
    “I’m Alex Chamberlain, and you, I am led to believe, go by the name of Raucous.  Glad to make your acquaintance.”
    “And yours,” Raucous said. “Your face looks familiar.”
    “I’m a well known man.”
    Raucous pulled a gold gilded chair from the table.
    “No need to sit," the Turk said.  "He just wanted to meet you.  You can go."
    Raucous looked to Sir Alex.
    “I am usually a very good judge of character,” Sir Alex said. “Years of experience.  I remember everything."
    Raucous knew he should leave, smile, and make for the door.  He couldn't. 
    “Not everything," he said.  "You forgot we have already met.”
    Alex squinted.
    “I’m sure I would remember a man of your build.”
    “I was a young boy.”
    Raucous could feel Turk’s stare and see Sir Alex do impassive but his eyes were trying all they could to bore into the mind of Raucous.  He thought long and hard and smiled.
    “Did we have a pleasant time?” he asked.
    Raucous returned the smug.
    “I learned a lot.”
    “I always like to educate.  And I’ll see you tomorrow as the Turk has told you.”
    Raucous nodded and turned.
    "And Raucous, I believe you have a sentimental connection to Christian.  Maybe you have thoughts of finishing something you started all those years ago.  I would strongly suggest that if that is the case, you cease to hold such desires.  They will bring only harm."
    Raucous paused, looking into space.
    “Only man to blame is myself,” he said.  “I have no revenge to make.”

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
    Jean said yes, she always would.  Mitch and Ben had avoided the question, but they knew.  Doing nothing made them agree.  Jean had no thought of consequence and the deal was too good to turn down.  This was a life and the others would have to adapt.  Boredom was a battle she had faced for a decade.  She’d fought it off but now she had found the opportunity she wanted.
    Sophie knew the place, most people in this quarter of the city knew the Den.  A teenage boy's place of passage, a dream location within their own area. 
    There was nothing different; it had been designed to be exactly what it was, a large mirrored wall, four podiums with their floor to ceiling poles.  No windows so the day could be twenty-four hours of night.  And the walls covered in seventies mosaics of afro-headed women and coloured spots overlapping and glossy to reflect the beams of light that spun at speed to loud bass music.
    Jean entered at midday, the Den was closed. Two aged women were mopping the smooth linoleum stage.  The lights were bright and harsh.  The Turk sat at a circular industrial steel table.  Raucous was standing near the entrance and the Twins hung back, three meters behind the Turk, one to the side of each of his large rounded shoulders.  The Turk stood.
    “Welcome home,” he said.  “Take a seat.”
    Sophie walked two paces with Jean but she could go no further as Raucous stepped before her.
    “Not you, Sophie.  Go home, get some rest,” he said. “Come back tonight.”
    Sophie didn’t move until Jean nodded an OK.  She shrugged turned and left.  The double doors closed slowly on their hydraulic hinges behind her.
    Jean looked at the four men in turn and smiled.  They each held her look and smiled recognition.  Jean pulled a chair and sat down in time with the Turk as if they were synchronized.
    “I wasn’t expecting to see you again,” the Turk said.  “But on the positive side, I don’t feel so bad about not being able to attend your funeral.”
    “Don’t sweat it, I didn’t go either.”
    Turk looked around the room while pointing at Jean, a