Chapter Nine – Dante's Inferno
"Don't ever believe you are protected. No matter what you wear, no matter how you shield yourself. Never forget…you are an impossibly fragile, soft, pale, hairless organism with no natural defenses. Like something you'd find when you turn over a rock."
Kenneth Irons
The shiny black limo eased through the lavish, well-guarded security gate of the Irons' Estate at an unhurried pace. The uniformed guards carried automatic weapons slung over their shoulders as the master of the mansion passed. The tinted windows obscured any unwanted scrutiny from the outside, but gave Kenneth Irons his own biased view of the world. The bright morning sun warmed his face. On a sunny day as this, he knew to leave his sunglasses on for the tedious drive into the city to the offices of Vorschlag Industries, his pale blue eyes being sensitive to the light of day. Oblivious to the scenery that blurred past him, he mused at his own reflection in the window, admiring his silk, Italian made navy suit with a pale, lavender shirt, set off by an impeccable ensemble of tie and kerchief, with not a hair out of place. He had not aged much since encountering the Witchblade those many years ago. For such a brief engagement, the weapon had suffused him with a fountain of youth, of sorts. In other ways, it had taken his life as surely as if it had killed him, but he was grateful for having survived the experience.
Thinking of the person he had been prior to his encounter with the blade, Kenneth Irons refused to admit the power of the ancient weapon had altered him, as greatly as it most certainly had. He did not like to think that something held that much authority over him. As the road noise droned innocuously in the background, Irons' cell phone abruptly invaded his thoughts.
"Yes." His tone bearing its' usual impertinence.
"Mr. Irons. This is Randall Briggs."
"Yes, Mr. Briggs. Finding any success in your prosaic world?" He smiled at his cynicism. Briggs failed to notice his disdain.
"Just wanted to let you know that the bracelet is as good as yours, Mr. Irons. I have a lead on the low life that has it." Irons could hear the smile in the man's voice.
"My…that is good news, Randall. As I promised, if you succeed in this task, you will get exactly what you deserve…I assure you." Irons terminated the conversation with a push of a button.
Of course, it was yet to be determined that Briggs could pull this off under Nottingham's nose. Irons was not entirely sure he wanted to see that happen, knowing Ian had been trained far better than Briggs could ever hope to achieve in a multitude of lifetimes. Yet, if Briggs retrieved the Gauntlet and returned it to its rightful owner, then he should be rewarded, as was his due.
Yes, Briggs would have a bright future indeed at Vorschlag Industries! Irons smirked.
As the limo neared his secured underground parking entrance in the city just outside the Vorschlag Tower, another call interrupted his reverie.
"It's me." Irons took a deep breath, allowing silence to undermine the start of their conversation.
"Yes. What can I do for you?" Recognizing the voice of Captain Bruno Dante, his voice was icy cold. He had grown quite weary of this man.
"We need to talk…now." Dante demanded with urgency in his voice.
"What can be so urgent that you would forego common courtesy?" Irons detested Dante when he presumed too much.
"Had a visitor last night. I think you should hear about it." Dante began. He had heard the smugness in Irons' voice, the bastard. The Captain would not take 'No' for an answer. He wanted off this demented merry-go-round of Irons' fabrication.
Having a similar nocturnal visitor, Irons could guess what Dante wanted to talk about. It seemed young Nottingham had been a busy lad.
"Your mongrel dog came to visit me last night…at my apartment. My bathroom to be exact." Dante's voice was almost comical to Irons who was trying hard not to conjure up an image in his head of just how his Ian had cornered the man in his very bathroom…and what he might have been doing at the time.
"Oh, my good fellow…I can assure you that Ian is no mongrel. He is pure bred…care to see his pedigree papers? He is the best in the world. No one alive surpasses him…he has seen to that." Irons' tone of voice and disrespectfulness could not be restrained, making Dante shake with his rage.
"This is it! Either he goes, or I do! I refuse to be intimidated in my own home. I want out of this deranged circus of yours." Dante had threatened Irons on other occasions and had only survived the attempt because the eccentric billionaire had still found a need to use this man.
But things had changed.
"What exactly do you propose, my dear man?" Irons was enjoying this.
"Seems to me that I have served you well over the years. I would like to retire early…someplace warm. I won't have access to my pension for a number of years yet. With your financial backing and connections, I could accomplish this...now. All I need is a small sum…say one million dollars…call it a philanthropic contribution to my favorite charity…to help me over this hurdle. A man with your obvious means would never miss that kind of money." Dante thought his wording was clever.
"Is this some form of extortion?" Irons asked disingenuously.
"I would never think to do that to you. We have too much on each other for that to be a wise move on my part." Dante was artfully trying to separate himself from the man and thought he was approaching this tactfully. Two can play this brand of dodge ball, Bruno thought.
"Perhaps you are right. It is probably time for us to part company…but only on a few conditions." Irons coolly responded. Oh…here it comes, thought Dante.
"I will need to have you name your replacement as leader to your special fraternal association…your brothers in blue. It should be someone you feel is qualified to supersede a man of your skills. And I would want you to advise the man of your departure immediately…so we can have a smooth transition." Irons almost choked on his words, his insincerity abounding.
"I can speak to him today. Have him call you later this morning." Dante could not believe this was happening. Getting rid of Irons and retirement in the same day. Amazing! He thought.
"Also, I want you to turn in your resignation today. This should go without saying. Considering I am about to retire you." There was a smile in Irons' voice that Dante had mistakenly thought to be congratulatory.
"I also trust you can pack up your meager personal belongings and be ready to depart the state by this evening. I do not want any interference from you after you are replaced. Is this agreeable?" Irons asked.
"Certainly. Anything you say." Dante could smell his retirement now.
"And lastly, come share a drink with me after work today…at my offices. Think of it as a Bon Voyage…in recognition for the quality of service that you have given to me over the years. I will have the contributory funds you require. You are right. I keep such paltry sums in my safe here at the Tower." Kenneth Irons casually opened his black leather brief case and retrieved his appointment book, making a production of flipping the pages so Dante would have to wait for him to get around to the correct date.
"Ah…I have a notation here with your name on it. It appeared I had wanted to meet with you today after all. You have just made it more convenient for me, for which I am most grateful." Irons had almost forgotten about his entry under Things To Do. He continued.
"Meet me after work…say around six o'clock…in the West Conference room...Penthouse Suite. You can use the underground parking garage to secure your vehicle and personal belongings while we are visiting. I will notify security of your appointment." Irons made a note to contact security. He would not want any surveillance cameras recording this appointment. Irons continued.
"I have been renovating the room and need to inspect the progress. We can meet there. I trust with your skills…you can detect your way to the appropriate location. I can assure you, we will have complete privacy." Irons disconnected the call.
His limo had a scrambler installed, making it impossible for anyone to eavesdrop on his cell phone conversations, but Irons had also painstakingly avoided the use of the Captain's name and spoke in cryptic terms as an extra safety measure. To his credit, the Captain had done the same. His day was having an excellent start! Irons mused.
Dante allowed himself to think about his new retirement plan as he placed a call to Jerry Orlinsky, his successor to command the White Bulls. After his discussion with Orlinsky, he would have plenty of time to draft his resignation letter. It would not take him long to pack his clothes and give notice at his apartment. He was only renting month to month and would loose his deposit for lack of notice, but so what. He was retired now. It was a good thing he had never invested in furniture, having leased what he had with the cheap apartment.
La Vida Loca! Here I come! He thought.
*****
"Bastard!" Dante thought.
He was now pacing the large Vorschlag conference room, on his third glass of scotch. He more than suspected Irons had deliberately let him wait, perhaps while he arranged for a shoeshine or a manicure at his leisure. It was well after six o'clock. He wanted to know how heavy a million dollars was, having brought his own luggage in which to tote it. The one good thing was that rush hour would now be over, making it easier for him to get on the road and make some progress before dark. The cool and detached farewell that he had rehearsed, however, was now a forgotten memory. Irons had gotten the better of him again. Well, no more. He was retired.
The room was indeed undergoing renovation. Swatches of drapery material and floor tile samples were laid out on the console table along the left wall. It looked as if the walls were being prepped today for texturing and painting…a rich, bronze color seemed to be the color of choice. Plastic tarp material covered every inch of the room's floor and large wooden conference room table. As Dante paced, the plastic underfoot crackled with each step. Under the plastic were perfectly good hard wood floors and seemingly new carpet that were being ripped out, only to be replaced by new tile, wall treatments, and accompanying décor at the whim of Irons. What a waste, Dante thought.
"Ah, Bruno. I am delighted you could make it. I have been looking forward to our last visit. I trust you have not been waiting long." Kenneth Irons was a self-important and egotistical peacock, Dante thought. His demeanor a constant source of aggravation for Dante over the years. Today was no exception.
Irons strode into the room with supreme confidence, knowing he had just bested the man before him. He was in control at all times. Dante needed to know this, among other things, Irons thought. He carried a garment bag that he hung behind the conference room door as he closed it, securing their privacy. Tossing his organizer on the clear plastic protecting the lustrous mahogany conference room table underneath, he towered above the former Police Captain, choosing to remain standing and illustrate his dominance. Irons had been late, trying to confirm all of Dante's departure arrangements, discreetly of course.
"I don't have much time today…for our farewell. I am sure you don't have much time either." Irons had always chosen his words carefully.
Unfortunately for Bruno Dante, he had not noticed this.
Irons slowly strolled around the conference room table towards Dante. He reached over to open his day planner, reviewing its' contents dispassionately.
"Do you know what the key to success is, Captain?" Irons looked up from his notes, appearing to expect an answer for this seemingly pointless question.
"What does that have to do with anything, Kenneth?" Dante knew he was pushing all the wrong buttons with Irons, using his first name, but he was passed caring. He just wanted his money and to be on his way.
Ignoring Dante's overly familiar tone and insulting manner, Irons continued with a smile.
"Goal Setting. Organization. I have always set goals worthy of my attentions. Today…one of my objectives is certainly beneath my normally high standards, but then I can assure myself of completing it quite easily."
Irons turned his focus to his appointment book once again as he read aloud from it. Dante was starting to shift his stance from side to side, seeming to get more impatient with Irons' presumably incoherent ramblings, much to the enjoyment of the billionaire who had noticed the man's growing annoyance.
"You see…here…the last item on my list today. It states quite clearly…Kill Captain Bruno Dante." Irons raised his steely blue eyes to stare into Dante's.
"It seems you have outlived your usefulness, Bruno." His voice was chilling.
Bruno Dante had heard the words in disbelief. You have outlived your usefulness.
With one fluid motion, before Dante could utter a rebuttal, Irons grabbed the man's shoulders firmly with his left hand in an intimate embrace. Holding him in place, Irons buried a stiletto deep into the man's chest…to the hilt…quickly plunging the knife several times as he breathed in Dante's dying breath…and smiled one last time into his dead eyes.
Irons had moved to his side too quickly for him to react. He felt the excruciating pain as the blade thrust into his body. His lungs were now filling with fluid, he would drown in his own blood. He had expected that images of his life would have flashed before his eyes, but the last cruelty was that he would die looking upon the face of his killer, Kenneth Irons. As he stood on legs about to collapse, the room began to fade. His body grew colder from the inside out. Icy fingers seemed to clutch at his heart to stop it from beating. With his life's blood draining from his body, his heart slowed to an imperceptible cadence…and all went black as his soul left his mortal remains.
Remains he suspected would never be found.
As Bruno Dante collapsed to the floor, conveniently and squarely atop one of the many plastic tarps, Kenneth Irons calmly began to undress, tossing each garment he had worn to the floor, over Dante's body. He retrieved his handkerchief and brushed the cloth across his face and hands, discarding it in the same manner. Walking to the conference room door, he unzipped the garment bag and redressed himself with the fresh suit he had brought for the occasion, of the same designer and coloring as he had previously worn that day. He felt 170 pounds lighter, having rid himself of the liability known as Captain Bruno Dante.
He calmly walked over to his organizer that still lay on the conference room table before him. Taking a gold pen from his notebook, he crossed off the last item on his Things To Do list. He always made it a point to complete his goals each day. He tore the page from his day planner and strolled assuredly to a nearby shredder, conveniently located near a side console table in the large boardroom. Proceeding to a nearby phone, Irons dialed a number he knew by heart.
"Rolf… Ich habe etwas, damit Sie abzuschaffen. Ich bin im Westkonferenzraum des Penthouse Suite. Kommen Sie alleine." Rolf had assisted his employer on more than one occasion when disposing of something unsavory.
Irons' discarded clothes would be burned as well. With the renovations of the conference room, any trace that the good Captain had been there would be forever eradicated and replaced by his especially hand-picked Italian granite tile and other new and elegant décor of his tasteful selection. The security cameras would not have any recording of the man's entrance or exit. Dante's car and all his worldly possessions would be driven to another state and destroyed.
Irons smiled as he gazed into the dead eyes of Bruno Dante and awaited Rolf. He knew this body would never be found.