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Red Rag.
    As his career progressed Reynolds used his anger to devastating effect, working his way through a swathe of more experienced opponents. The longer he fought the more it felt like his rage was controlling him rather than the other way around. Joel had seen him fight a couple of times when Reynolds was still allowed in the ring. He’d seen that focussed fury in action but he hadn’t seen the match which finished the boxer's career. The one which had ended with his opponent near dead. Joel knew people who had been there. They said that the final, most damaging punches had landed after the referee had called for the fight to be stopped. Reynolds had never faced charges for some reason, despite the fact that there must have been a fair few policemen in the audience that night. Probably, Joel reasoned, because Reynolds was too useful to too many powerful people. He made as much money for throwing punches out of the ring as he did in it. That was why he was here now.
    Joel’s fist connected with that grinning face. It felt like he’d punched a brick wall. The only difference being that a wall wouldn’t have punched him back. His arm went numb up to his elbow but he didn’t have time to notice because Reynolds’s famous right hook had already slammed into his gut. Joel doubled over gasping. He felt like he’d been hit by a car, his internal organs rearranged slightly by the boxer’s fist. 
    Reynolds laughed. “That’s no way to greet an old mate,” he said, his gravelly voice carrying down to Joel as he struggled to breathe. He pulled some air into his lungs at last and straightened, rubbing his tender abdomen. He looked the boxer in the eye. As he’d expected Reynolds had barely noticed the punch. There was a slight reddening on his left cheek but that was all. Apart from that the big square head looked untouched. Joel was still glad he’d done it. If nothing else it had made him feel a bit better.
    “Fuck this,” he said and turned away. “There is no way I’m working with you again.”
    “I’m hurt, Joel,” called Reynolds after him. “All broken up inside.”
    Joel walked back down the steps.
    “Joel, wait,” shouted a voice from the house. Danny.
    Joel turned in surprise. Danny never came to any of the pre-meets. Never. His involvement ended when he passed the details over to whoever he’d recruited. Until he picked up his cut of the proceeds at the end of course. The fact that he was here was even more surprising than the location for the meeting.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” said Joel.
    Danny pushed his way around Reynolds and trotted down the steps. The boxer stood there like he was enjoying the show. 
    When Danny reached Joel he put an arm around his shoulders and led him up the street away from the house. Joel could smell his aftershave and the mint on his breath. Danny was always so well groomed that Joel felt shabby just looking at him.
    “What the hell is going on?” he said to the older man. “Why are you here? Why is HE here?”
    Danny paused before speaking. “I’m gonna be straight with you,” he said. “I swear on my kids’ lives I didn’t know he was on the crew when I hooked you up for this. I’m here because he is. I wanted to explain to you .” 
    Joel frowned. “Why not tell me beforehand? Why make me come all the way out here.”
    Danny was silent.
    “It’s because you knew I wouldn’t come, isn’t it ?” The scar on Joel’s cheek was starting to burn. It did that when he was stressed. His hand went up to his face and his index finger traced the line of it from his cheekbone to his jawline.
    Danny stopped walking and looked him straight in the eye. "I need you in this, Joel. This is big, much bigger than I thought it was. That's why Reynolds is here. It needs his muscle as well as your skills. You know no-one else is as good as him. Just like no-one else is as good as you."
    “Don’t try and flatter me into this. It won’t work. I'm not