Dirk Gently Jacket Novels & Stories

I turned slowly toward the armchair in the corner. Derrick’s tuxedo jacket, the one Roger had brought back from the hospital, lay draped over the back of the chair. The sound was coming from the inside pocket. My blood ran cold, colder than the grave. I lowered the landline, but the ringing continued from the jacket, shrill and demanding. I walked toward it, my legs numb. I reached into the pocket, my fingers brushing against the silk lining, and pulled out a sleek, black phone. The screen lit up the dim room.

"What's that?" "A little... schematic of Herley District," he replied. "Figured we'd be needing it." "Yeah we would," I replied, looking up at him gratefully. "We might not have another chance at this," he said, reaching out for the center console in the van and flipping a hidden compartment open. A short range jammer, tranquilizer pistol, gloves and even a lock decoder were carefully packed inside it. "Help yourself Ashley." With that he took some items and fit it into his jacket. I did same, taking as much as I deemed necessary after a quick thought.

Margie met them in the kitchen, she had daggers laid out on the table. Dimitri handed Jayden a jacket, “Eh Jayden since you didn’t bring your things with you. You can use my old jacket.” He said. “Thanks, brother,” Jayden said. Jayden put the jacket on, and took a pair of daggers off the table, and put them in his belt. He watched the others get ready.

His jacket seems to be made out of a hardened mesh fabric - as if to drain away the blood of an unfortunate victim - with hardened panels on the breast area and shoulder. Whoever he is, I’m about to obey his every word. I wouldn’t stand a chance against him. I can see the thickness of his muscle stature under his clothes. One wrong move on my part could mean the end of my life. He flicks a finger toward the door. It’s covered in a leather glove, to leave no trace of himself. It’s frightening. I noticed the camera’s mounted in the corners of the room yesterday. Are they not seeing this?

Even without being in the same room, I could picture each of them. Jack would be in something dark, probably navy with that annoying smirk that said yes, I am rich and I know it. Bobby always liked something that showed his broad shoulders, probably a fitted black suit that made him look like he was walking into a magazine cover. Gentle…well, Gentle dressed like he didn’t care but still ended up looking expensive. Something simple, clean lines, nothing dramatic. He was always the opposite of all of us.

Instead, I stood up and scanned the room for any sign of a weapon. The dresser was heavy oak, the mirrors polished to a frightening shine. I opened the top drawer, but it was empty. He had scrubbed the room of anything sharp. My gaze fell on the chair where he had left probably one of his suit jackets. I walked over, my bare feet silent on the amber floors. My fingers brushed against a cold, heavy object in the side pocket of the jacket. I pulled it out, my breath catching. It was a small, silver folding knife with an ornate wolf head crest.

Karma is dealing with her in the cell she is already. “Now the problem is how to return the jacket to the owner without having to hear him question about who had his jacket the whole time.” I forced a smile on my face, attempting to push away the disquieting thoughts. A silent prayer escapes my lips, hoping against all odds Derek wouldn't ask any questions concerning the jacket but who was I kidding? “So you mean…?” “Yes, I have your jacket now.” I greeted attempting to overlook his undertone of irritation. “When has it been or this while? Or should I accept this as some kind of hide and seek you are playing with me?” He remarked and asked, visibly annoyed. He was standing with his black hel

I’d completely forgotten about it in my rush to avoid him this morning. “Do you have makeup in your bag?” he asked. I shook my head. I’d packed light, not expecting to stay long enough to need a full beauty routine. Knox’s jaw tightened. He pulled off his leather jacket, revealing a black t-shirt that clung to every muscle I’d just been pressed against. He draped the jacket over my shoulders. “Keep the collar up.” The jacket was warm from his body heat and smelled like him. Leather and aftershave and something darker, and more dangerous.

His charcoal wool suit was so well-tailored it looked annoyed to be touching human skin. There was a blue silk handkerchief in the pocket of his jacket and his pale blue eyes looked faded in comparison. He wore black turtleneck, no shirt or tie, and he had a thick tanned neck. His features were heavy and well-punched to the right, especially in the nose area, but still handsome. He had two inches less of height than Elky had. His light hair was short, crew cut which reminded me of Gianni’s, so I didn’t like it. Apart from all this he had the general appearance of a smug-faced gangster who would wear a silk handkerchief with a black turtleneck. The gold chain was missing though.

But now, for the first time, he saw something different. The jacket she wore was gray, soaked in blood. But underneath it—just visible where the fabric was torn and stained—was a strip of dark material. Faint diamond shapes stretched across it in a pattern that moved from gunmetal gray to black. He blinked. The graphene vest. That was the exact pattern. He knew it well. He had one just like it. But if she had been wearing the vest... and the blood was on top of it... then how the hell had the bullets gone through?