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Dante's Fire Chapter Seven: Jackie
Chapter SevenJACKIEJackie called.She called her father's mobile phone, then she called the home cell. It was all the same result: no reply. A sense of foreboding loomed over her like a thundercloud on a rainy summer day. Her calls to his cell went straight to voicemail, and those she patched home went unanswered. She could not help feeling as though something had gone terribly wrong.Those were not gunshots she had heard over the phone, Jackie told herself. It was something else entirely. Perhaps firecrackers. Yes, firecrackers. Kids in the city were known to be crazy, wilding out at every given opportunity. She would not put it past them to be shooting firecrackers at the beginning of the season. They could totally do it. Right?Jackie had enough money to go to law school when the session began, then some extra. Her father had built a trust for her and all her money came from their. It was one of the nicest things the man had ever done for her. That way, Jackie did not need to ask
Dante's Fire Chapter Eight: Big Jack
Chapter EightBIG JACKA cop car sped past Big Jack, splashing muddy snow and spraying water. Its siren was on and wailing, and the colours blue and red flashed across the buildings as it blew past. On its side, the acronym NYPD was embossed in bold black letters.To Big Jack, wailing police sirens had to be the scariest sound a person could hear when he or she was a criminal. It was a lesson that Big Jack had learnt and relearnt, and then learnt again a dozen times. He had come to know fear intimately, because he had grown up in an atmosphere of it. And because he had come to know fear as intimately as he did, because it had become a regularity in his life, it was an easy thing to shake off.Yet, when he saw his best friend on the tile floor of the ware house, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes after Andre shot him, he had felt fear. Fear that was new and uncharted. Colder than a chilly December, it reached for and gripped his heart with icy fingers. He could not close his e
Dante's Fire Chapter Nine: Jackie
Chapter NineJACKIESitting at the back of the yellow and black taxi, Jackie watched the world spill by the windows. Even after being gone for so long, the city was as she remembered. Cold. Loud. Crowded. It was frigid enough that she could see her breath colour the air in front of her. Cars honked, people hurried by or walked leisurely, like the teenagers on the side of the road in full winter apparel, walking as though they had all the time there was. People sprung out from the subway, from beneath the bowels of the earth, hurrying as they went. The noises that could be heard were a hushed quiet from behind the taxi's stiff windows.As the scenery changed, Jackie could only think of her father. He had been gone since the day he called her and she heard gunshots over the line. She had called him repeatedly, texted, sent voicemails, panicked. It was all for naught. He had vanished. She booked a flight, and the next day, she had packed a bag and was headed for the airport. Her stomach
Dante's Fire Chapter Ten: Dante
Chapter TenDANTE'It is about time we buried your father, don't you think?' Orlando asked Dante after two weeks of inaction had passed.Dante just grunted at him, and slid further down into the plush sofa. He had placed Ambience, his nightclub, in the hands of his manager and had taken a small leave. A leave of a week had slowly and surely turned in a half a month's sabbatical. He asked to not be disturbed, and so far, the man had respected his request. It had been two weeks of saturninity. Two weeks of imposing reticence every day of which left Dante feeling more stripped and more depressed than he had been the day before, and the day before that one too. Some mornings, he barely felt the need to get out of bed.He had moved to his father's house in the city, leaving his beloved penthouse during the duration of time. After sending all the staff on leave, he tried to settle down. He had planned to gather what remained of his father's properties. Clothing, jewelry, footwear, and his m
Dante's Fire Chapter Eleven: Jackie
Chapter ElevenJACKIEHotels in the city were not often the cheapest form of accommodation, and unfortunately, the city was no well known for having motels.The hotel room that Jackie secured that night of her arrival was not what she would have called five star rated, but it was, fortunately for her, reasonably priced and relatively clean. The sink had burn marks like someone had put out a bunch of cigars in there, and the windows were dark with film. But it was otherwise habitable. After having lived in cramped dorm room for so long a time, Jackie could say she could acclimatize to nearly any living conditions, given time.She settled into the New York pace and began to try to get her bearing, her wits about her. It was a fortnight at the hotel before she called the number on the paper, four long nights of hoping and wishing her father would just call and end this jest that have soon began to transform into a nightmare. Like with the time she arrived at her house, with the interco
Dante's Fire Chapter Twelve: Jackie
Neil Hunter had chosen a restaurant. Bright lit with fluorescent tubes and with giant glass windows all around, so they could see what was outside, if anything or anyone was coming without being surprised. It still surprised her, he had told her to me alone, yet they were meeting at a public spot? Would it surmise to day he was just as nervous about her as she was of him? That would be good, she thought as she entered the restaurant. That would be very good, because it at least it proved that perhaps, he could be trustworthy. She spotted him as soon as she got in. The door bell jangled lightly. Neil Hunter was seated at the last end of the boot, his shoulders tight, his eyes anxious. 'You came quickly,' he said, sounding genuinely surprised. He stood to his feet at her approach and remained standing until she had slipped into her own side of the booth across from him.It was warm inside the place; Jackie relieved herself of her coat and her jacket. She talked as she worked to get t
Dante's Fire Chapter Thirteen: Dante
Chapter Thirteen DANTEDante's granny, Grandma Ursula, attended the funeral. Grandma Ursula had eyes like curdled chalk water, the watery white of albumen, and hands soft as a mattress. She gathered Dante's face in those mattress-supple hands of hers. 'Oh, Dante, my boy.' She rasped. 'Your father—terrible is what it is. Just terrible.'Dante could only nod and wonder how she was able to worry over him when he had merely lost his father. She had lost a son. It did not get any worse than that. Grandma was nearly a hundred, if Dante tried to do the maths. But he did not. Grandma Ursula had been there since he was waddling in diapers; she had also been there when his father was waddling in diapers too, since the beginning of time. There was no telling where she began or ended. She was one of the things in his life that had remained steady, perpetually present. Even when his mother died, she had been there for him and his father, a steady and unmoving boat on a running stream, holding the
Dante's Fire Chapter Fourteen: Dante
DANTEIf you had been at the reception, you would have thought the Bianchis a happy family, a bunch of haoyoy people. You would have thought perhaps that Raymond Bianchi died of natural causes. Maybe a heart attack. It was not uncommon for men his age. There was laughter and sparkling wine in squeaky glasses; there was clinking and toasting, most of which Orlando did.'To Raymond!' He roared, standing at the banister overlooking the gigantic living room.'To Raymond,' The crowd below raised their glasses along with him in salute, auriferous wine sloshing from side to side. Dante walked around, weaving through the crowd with no particular purpose but to tell those that milled about the house, the stairs, the rooms that his father had walked in, breathed in, lived in, danced with his wife in, that they were welcome. Thank you for coming, Dante said through tightly gritted teeth. Shaking cold hands that bore little more than sympathy. He hated the job. He hated the entire day. It was wo
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- Dante's Fire
Jackie & Big Jack: Chapter One-Hundred
JACKIEDante drove as though he meant to frighten her, in that peculiar fashion that she had seen people do in movies sometimes, when they meant to frighten their passengers into silence or verbosity. But he did not ask any more information of her, or her continued silence, which would have been unlikely. This left her to wonder what his endgame was. Was his plan to orchestrate an accident? To kill them both? He was intense, she granted him that. But he never appealed to her as suicidal.'Dante, what are you doing?' She asked tentatively.He kept his eyes on the road, never blinking. 'Is it not obvious?''You can stop the car. Stop the car, let's talk. It doesn't have to be this way.' She said. Now he looked at her. The rage that had returned had now dimmed in his eyes. Instead, there was only exhaustion. Soul-swallowing exhaustion.'You know,' he told her, 'you were the one person in this world that I believed I could grow to trust. Really trust. The one person. And then you just h
- Dante's Fire
Dante: Chapter Ninety Nine
DANTEJackie's phone beeped to life on the nightstand in the dark of the room, bathing the wall in white light, and for the third time, Dante ignored it. That night, the moon was a phosphorescent thing, and it poured into the room through the windows, spilling onto the floors. Over Jackie's shoulder, Dante watched it creep further into the room as the night drew on. The clock on the nightstand read 3 A.M in ominous red letters bright enough to betray the pistol Dante had laid next to it. But it seemed like nothing more than a few hours had passed since they had sex. The room smelled strongly of semen, fabric softener and—this close to her—cheap shampoo.Time stood still whenever Dante was with Jackie. He knew quite well that reality awaited him outside the doors of the hotel, outside of her arms, but while he was with her, his many troubles shrunk and the world ceased trying to swallow him whole, flesh and bone included.Even in the gloom, he
- Dante's Fire
Jackie: Chapter Ninety Eight
JACKIEThe Aurthurson Hotel burned a harsh silver under the glaring moon. Although it was gigantic in its own rights, it was dwarfed by the corporate skyscrapers around it. What they had in height, the hotel had in width.Dante parked the car in the parking lot and shut off the engine. He let out a long, tortured breath. Jackie examined him in the quiet darkness. He slumped into the seat and stared back at her.'Your grand plan is to sit here all night? Or are we ever going to go in?' She asked, humorously.He snorted. 'Real talk? I wish we would. It's peaceful out here. It's almost never peaceful in New York.'They stared at each other in the dim, contained silence of the car. It was the first time since the raid a semblance of calm had returned to him. He was composed again, the Dante she was accustomed to. Jackie knew caged rage intimately. In part, because she was Big Jack's daughter. In part, because she had felt it for herself. After the
- Dante's Fire
Nick: Chapter Ninety Seven
NickColeman Spears was the sort of man who did not give a sailing hoot about anyone else's sensibilities. Nick figured this out the day that he met him. A man who cared little for politics, but paid attention to it anyway, just like himself. So when he heard that the man had gone out of his way to go after Dante Bianchi, he was pleasantly surprised.It was in the tabloids, the raid. Not the police commissioner's involvement in the raid, but the raid itself. Bluish photos of Ambience taken from a distance showed dark police vehicles blocking off the main entrance from the street. Passersby stopped and stared in the snapshots. Were he younger, the old man would have been damn near ecstatic. But now, he only thought it would have been even better if Spears had finished it, had brought the goddamn Bianchi out of his precious night club in handcuffs. But hr had not. He had found nothing. This part did not leave Nick surprised. Impressed, but not surprised. Th
- Dante's Fire
Andre: Chapter Ninety Six
ANDREThe snow that gathered at the top floor of his building had melted with the coming of spring, and the water that it had left behind formed shallow puddles at the corners of the roof. Damp wetness was everywhere you looked on the roof, every surface you touched. Andre had not been here for a long while. He had forgotten what a view Brooklyn was at the darkest hours of night, and how much better the view was in the light of day. He had forgotten the rows and rows of buildings, some as tiny as pebbles in the distance, others skyscrapers, bursting through the cotton wool clouds.Memories are feeble things. But it was all coming back to him as he stood there, staring out into the day. It did not seem so long ago now, since he had been there with Nick Noah, Trent in a building some distance away, with a sniper trained on him. A much needed precaution.This time, however, like the last, Andre was not alone. Gloria was at his side. She was dressed as she oft
- Dante's Fire
Spears: Chapter Ninety five
SPEARSThe team of officers came through the front doors like an avalanche, breaking the mountain slope. This, at least, was what Spears imagined it would have seemed like to Dante Bianchi.He had taken the rear, coming in as the last man, his hands deep in the pockets of his Police parka, the handle of his firearm protruding like a leathery bone from his utility belt. Ambience was a tall building, and the lower floor could be traced with the eyes to the VIP section in the upper floor. Only staff were in the building at the time, and one of them, a woman was descending the stairs when they charged through the front door unannounced. She stopped, clutching the steel railing in a fright. Leo Daniels was ascending the steps, talking to the Oman as he climbed. The bartender was startled, too. Spears did not blame him. Cops were never bearers of good never.Soon Dante Bianchi answered them. He came rushing down the stairs, in a suit that distinguished him, gave him t
- Dante's Fire
Jackie: Chapter Ninety Four
JACKIEWhen Dante called again, asking if she would come to his club, Ambience, Jackie had said yes without pause. There should have been that fear of sounding desperate, that apprehension that he would hear her rapid, almost desperate yes, and wonder, and maybe even guess correctly that she wanted to be there only so she could go through his things so she could get into his head.But there was no fear. That gave her cause to worry. Neil had warned her many times already. The last time was the day before the call. He had picked her up from work the other day. She came down after a long, grueling shift to find him waiting in his car outside. Even though she would much rather had taken a taxi, she let herself be talked into entering the passenger seat.'Dante is dangerous.' He had told her. 'Volatile.''Oh, and you are not?'Neil ground his teeth together. She could tell he wanted to pound the steering wheel. 'Not like this. I watched him shoot a man in
- Dante's Fire
Big Jack: Chapter Ninety Three
BIG JACKHe cut the frizzly beard he had grown on the journey. In the mirror, when he looked he had become another version of himself. A man who was familiar in a distant fashion, but who was still a stranger. Big Jack washed the shaving cream off his cheeks and chin and felt the smooth, new flesh there. Another thing Joaquin would never be able to do.The fight at the motel had left him with a limp, slightly imperceptible, but still there. He limped out of the bathroom with its ornate mirror and shiny ceramic, back into the room that had been allocated to him. The windows in the room were open, and a gentle breeze played with the shutters. For there, Big Jack could catch a glimpse of the street. A row of palm trees lined both lanes on the road, the early morning sun was the colour of a cob of corn. He was leaving, finally. Everything felt distant in a way already. Like he was never there, like he was just passing through.McCoy had made his staff leave him some clean
- Dante's Fire
Dante: Chapter Ninety Two
DANTEColeman Spears was just as punctual as he had expected. The bloody man was correctness itself, what with that firm jaw, those self-righteous eyes that seemed to have the ability to make anything he did not approve of combust if he fixed them with a stare for enough time. Which was what he looked to be trying to do to Dante when he spotted him in the midst of the festivity.Dante took his hand in a firm grip. The man's giant paw of a hand almost swallowed his. 'Finally,' he said through a smile that was more clenched teeth than it was actually excitement. 'I get to meet the man running the city.'Spears snorted. 'I could say the same for you. The people seem to believe you are the one in charge.'Dante's arm was in grave danger of being crushed. Flattery and subtle violence? One handshake and a sentence and he absolutely loved this guy.He managed to get his hand out of the vice grip and smiled. 'Well, this is New York. The people think what they
