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Dante's Fire Chapter Twenty One: Big Jack
BIG JACKBig Jack had been watching the window for days without end. Just outside the dimly lit hotel, there was a tall dogwood tree, its leaves so white that you could barely contrast between foliage and snow, its branches reaching for something beyond them.He had noticed everything in the park beneath the hotel, from the strollers to the newcomers—who he could tell by the bewilderment on their faces at the busyness of New York—to the taxis and the delivery man. But he paid attention to the dogwood tree in particular, because a few dates before, a nondescript car had parked underneath it, and its occupants, what resembled a raven-haired woman and a short man wearing sun shades, spilled out of the car. They stayed there in the shade of the dogwood plant, silently staring up at the building.Big Jack had oiled his gun thrice now. Maybe more. He did not keep count. Dismantle, recouple. Dismantle, recouple. Dismantle, recouple. He did it until his fingers were sore. A better part of him
Dante's Fire Chapter Twenty Two: Big Jack
BIG JACK Big Jack did not take his car.Cars rolling through the city were far more conspicuous than people, he had learnt. Especially when the vehicle in question was a blue Impala. People could not always remember what a person looked like. They would say, He was big. They would use adjectives like tall, short, skinny. They would say, I think he had brown hair. But they often did not remember the vitals needed to differentiate one person from the other. The case was not always the same with cars. You saw a blue Chevrolet or a green bentley with obfuscated windows parked at the side the street, and you knew what you saw. Nobody could tell you different.So Big Jack took the bus to the deeper parts of the city, what some liked to call the city's 'underbelly'. It was in these cramped alleys that the most crimes were committed; it was at these corners that the mafia's 'snow' sold best. He knew the rough terrain like the back of his hand.He alighted from the bus when he had gotten as f
Dante's Fire Chapter Twenty Three: Big Jack
BIG JACK They were in bed, in the master bedroom when he came up on them. Natasha still had clothes on, underwear actually, a binder and tights; Palomar otherwise did not.There was a tray of what looked like strawberries and squares of brown cake in a intricately designed silver tray on the red-and-white sheets. There was a vase shaped bottle of wine on the hardwood floor. Two glasses sat beside the wine, another had rolled on its side across the room. Natasha had her back to the door which was cracked open just a small bit, while Palomar faced it, but her eyes were closed because Natasha had her face buried in her neck. She made purring noises, like a cat under the caresses of an agreeable hand. It struck Big Jack that, with her head tilted at that angle and her oblique eyes pressed shut so tightly, she had a remarkable resemblance to one too.He cleared his throat meaningfully.Palomar's eyes flew open and she let out a screech deserving of a banshee. Luckily, it was a big house, s
Dante's Fire Chapter Twenty Four: Jackie
JACKIE The apartment always smelled of musk in the mornings. Musk and coffee, to be fair. Jackie consumed coffee like a chain smoker burnt through packs of cigar, seeking out caffeine the exact same way they sought out the sweet flavour of nicotine. For her it was not only a stimulant, it was the one thing that stayed the same wherever she went. Everything else changed, passed, fell apart, but the aroma of mocha in her apartment was something that had become familiar, old, steady like a rock in the middle of a stream. As a person who was unused to stability, it felt good to have this, something somewhat permanent. This was why she noticed the difference the instant she stepped into her living room.The atmosphere in the small space was awash with a new fragrance that was neither musk nor coffee. It smelled like the outdoors in winter, like snow freshly fallen from the sky. The windows were shut when she went around the house. There was a pot of pinkish wandering Jew plant at her kitc
Dante's Fire Chapter Twenty Five: Jackie
JACKIE They sat at the counter in her kitchen, drinking coffee out of plastic cups. They had wandered into the kitchen after Joaquin said he would need a steaming cup of something. Even if the something was a cup of boiling water. The day was a particularly snowy one, the wind biting deep, without mercy. Christmas was about a week away, and as usual, the city was drowning in white and red, in wreaths of mistletoe, in vibrant green holly and merry bells. At the stores there were more things on discount, there were decorations and lights.For Jackie, Christmas was that time of the year that she had always spent alone, when she learnt to twist the insecurity of being abandoned into the peacefulness of solitude. The bells brought her no merriness, the hollies and mistletoes, no joy.Steam rose out of Joaquin's cup and he held it with both hands. It curled upwards, heavenward, like smoke from an immolation. He blew on it. 'You always do that,' Jackie said to him, watching him meticulousl
Dante's Fire Chapter Twenty Six: Andre
ANDREAndre dreamt that he was at the orphanage, that he was a boy again, starved, gaunt in face, still small. He dreamt that he was at the overseer's office, that he was standing as still as a statue, as most children were wont to do in the woman's presence. You stood before her and felt immediately like a criminal. It might have been her eyes, those hazel suns. They had an accusing way about them. It might have been the aura in the orphanage. A forbidding, gloomy aura that cast shadows over every thing and every child. It was a wonder that people were often surprised that adopted kids almost never turned out all right. It was just as he remembered it, that office. Even in his dreams, his memory of the place was hauntingly perfect. Poorly lit and cramped, it was filled up to bursting with shelves thick with files. These files were stuffed with papers browned at their edges. Identification passports littered the ground. Names, dates of birth, places of origin filled the pa
Dante's Fire Chapter Twenty Seven: Andre
ANDREThe Torrents was a bar about fifteen minutes from Andre's place, if he drive slow. It was run by an African-American woman who wore a loose, big afro that shrouded her head like a halo, and whose sunken in cheeks made her fleshly lips seem even more prominent than they were. She was bony every where but her chest, and it seemed to Andre that half the time, the men and women who patronized the Torrents were simply hoping to score. You could tell by their excessively sly smiles, by the pointed stares they gave, the lingering looks. They were usually encouraged by the fact that she was flirted with reckless abandon on a good night; that she was quite young; that she had an easy way about her. She could, for one, make anybody feel special, from the urbane businessman looking to unwind with a few drinks to the occasional fool who entered the bar half intoxicated and had to leave propped on the shoulder and arms of a grossly irritated friend. She was good at recalling names a
Dante's Fire Chapter Twenty Eight: Dante
DANTEHis uncle, Orlando, looked the part, if any thing.The man wore a grizzly fur coat over a formal shirt and suit pants. His fingers were fat with gold bands. Dante held the door to the Wrangler open for him. He had begun to use the car again since after he paid Natasha that visit. The house staff had returned from their leave and things were going as they used to preceding his father's murder. At least, at the surface, they seemed to be. He had visited his club, Ambience, twice already. As always, his manager was on top of things.Dante and Orlando settled into the backseat and the driver, Imani—a woman his uncle had personally referred for the job—fired the engine. Soon they were grinding off the gravel driveway and out of the mansion.Dante adjusted and readjusted his blazer. A Rolex encircled his left hand and a Cavier encircled his left. If you glanced at the two of them, the contrast between them, you would have thought that it w
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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
