All right, that’s one. Now the other. Cari, if you could simply…?
Got it…Fuck, he’s heavy. Help me out.
Christ, you’ve gotten weak. Grab his arm…that’s it…now…there. That was easy. I think you might have been exaggerating a bit.
Whatever. Tell Jacob we’re ready to go.
------------------------
Cuba, March 23rd
15:30- Kane
It had been five days. Five days since Jenny died. Her body was sitting somewhere at the bottom of the lake, alone and forgotten, his note to her clasped in her cold hands. She would never read it now. His beautiful daughter, his last connection to his former life, had died hating him. Just like her mother. His son, daughter, wife…all of them had died, because of him. He had nothing left.
So be it. He would survive.
Lynch was still alive. Despite Kane’s desire to kill him on the boat and drop him into the lake as well, he had forced himself to let the bastard live. Kane had plans for later, and some idiot cannon fodder might be useful, no matter how unstable. Even though he had killed the other members of The7 and Retomoto, he had one last bit of revenge to take care of.
Shelley had taken the two million and left Kane, Lynch, and Jenny to die. Part of him wanted to blame Shelley for not being able to guard his daughter better, but he didn’t fool himself into thinking that his motives were so noble. He simply wanted his money back, and he wanted to teach Shelley what happened to people who were stupid enough to take what was his. He explained this to Lynch a few hours after they managed to find a harbor, outside of a run-down building half-smothered in creeping vines.
Lynch, of course, thought it was an incredibly stupid idea, and expressed his opinion concisely and eloquently.
“Go back? Are you retarded?”
Kane sighed. “It’ll only take a week or so. You won’t even-“
“Me? I’m not going. You can die by yourself.” Lynch sat against the wall, staring up at him, annoyed and arrogantly defiant. Kane held him in extreme contempt.
“Really? How interesting. You have a plan to survive in Cuba with absolutely no money? I must have been wrong about you being a complete fucking idiot.”
A pause. “I’ll be fine.”
“Right. So, are you going to get yourself shot or simply starve to death?”
“I’ll be fine, I said.” His voice had become strained, angry. Kane got an idea.
“Of course you will. You’ll be fine going completely insane and shooting someone, right? You’ll be perfectly fine getting shot and bleeding to death on the streets, you wife-killing bastard-”
That did it. Lynch hit the breaking point. He stood up immediately, fists clenched, face like thunder. “Fuck off, Kane!” he yelled. “I’ve helped you enough! I went all over the States, went to Japan, went to fucking Cuba helping you, all so you could screw up and get your family killed-“
“I didn’t-“
“Shut up! I helped you kill The7, I helped you find your daughter, and I helped you escape the village. For that, all I got was a bullet in the shoulder. I saved your worthless life, and instead of just leaving me alone, now you want me to go after Shelley when we don’t know where he is, if he has a fake name, or if he’s even alive. I’m not as stupid as you think I am, Kane. Going back to America is suicide. I know that- hell, anyone could figure that out. They’re looking for us. We won’t even be able to get on a plane. Even if we do get there, even if the cops don’t find us, then what? What will you do? How will you find him? At best, it’d take months to find even the slightest trace of him. At worst, you’d never find anything. It doesn’t even make sense. You have money. You don’t need the two million. It’s pointless. Christ, Kane, I’m not your fucking dog. Haven’t I done enough?” He stopped- his outburst had wearied him, and he almost collapsed back on the wall. He looked very tired right then, tired and old.
Kane's voice took on an almost patronizing tone. "I know a man in Chicago. We- The7- called him The Informant. One of his associates had a number that she would always keep the same, just in case. If she answers and he’s still alive, he’ll know where to find Shelley within a week. If she doesn’t answer, or he’s dead, that’s the end of it. I’ll give you a couple thousand, and you’ll never see me again. Do whatever you want.”
Lynch said nothing. Kane flipped through his address book, found the correct number, and dialed it, praying that his cell phone would last just a few more minutes.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring. Come on, you bitch, pick it up.
A woman’s voice answered, soft and at ease. “Hello?”
“Is this Crow?”
“…Who are you?” Her voice had changed abruptly, becoming as cold and sharp as it used to be. “ Who is this? How do you know that name?”
“It’s Kane.”
“Kane? But you’re…you’re supposed to be…”
Christ, he didn’t have time for this. “I’ll explain everything later. Right now, I need you to answer some questions. Is Alex still alive?”
“I…um…yes, he is.”
“Is he still working? Is he still in Chicago?”
“Yes. He is, and he still lives here. All of us do.”
“I need to talk to him.”
“You want his number?”
“No. Where do you live?”
“What? You…want to…” She stopped for a second, collecting herself, then gave him the address.
The phone died a bit afterward, but that was of no consequence. He had the information he needed. Now there was just one last problem to take care of.