Conviction

by Dwayne Gill

  “Thank you, Cane, for saving my Kristy,” she said. “I’ve always hoped to meet you someday. I, we, owe our lives to you.”

  Cane looked at Kristy, who was also smiling. She got up and walked to the sofa, sitting on the other side of him. Though she wasn’t as outgoing, Cane still felt affection flowing from her.

  “Those three days were the worst of my life,” said Kristy. “But I’m home and alive now, and I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for you.”

  Cane didn’t know what to say. He hoped Bowman had told them enough about him that his silence wouldn’t offend them. It didn’t seem to; Cane felt more welcome here than he’d felt anywhere his entire life. When he looked at them, they returned looks of adoration, like he could do no wrong. He felt more comfortable, like it was finally dawning on him that he could be himself. He leaned back on the sofa and sighed. The two women sat back with him, both leaning casually against him.

  They sat in silence for a long time, and it was lovely. Cane didn’t force conversation, though he realized he still had barely spoken since entering. He had questions he’d love to ask Kristy, and he’d get around to it, but for now he was enjoying the silence.

  Helen turned on the television, which surprised Cane, but he was okay with it. “We watch this every Friday night,” she said. It was some kind of talent show where contestants took turns singing and being judged and scored. Cane relaxed, listening as Kristy and Helen went back and forth about different singers they liked or disliked, or who was good-looking. They were absorbed in the show, not paying much attention to him, and he loved it. He became so comfortable that he dozed off, and when he woke up his head was relaxed against the sofa back, the women still next to him. Helen was no longer holding his hand, but Kristy still leaned against him. They smiled at him when he woke up, and Helen even suggested he could stay the night, but he knew he shouldn’t.

  Kristy hugged him goodbye and Helen walked him to the door. When the two of them were alone, Helen wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.

  “Please come by sometime,” said Helen. “Kristy enjoyed seeing you.”

  “How is she doing?” asked Cane.

  “Kristy’s had a tough time. She doesn’t feel comfortable in her own skin right now. She has bad dreams. She’s seeing a therapist, but it hasn’t done much so far. She never went back to work.” Helen was losing control of her emotions. “Sometimes I fear she’ll eventually never want to leave the house.”

  “Give her time, ma’am,” said Cane. “Something like that is hard to recover from.”

  Helen smiled. “Thank you, Cane. I hope we see you again real soon.” He nodded and walked out the door.

  Cane learned a lot about himself from the visit. He was neither as invincible as everyone thought he was, nor was he fearless; his anxiety tonight proved this. The social anxiety he would eventually overcome; it was the other fear that concerned him. From the moment he left that house, he knew his greatest fear was something happening to one or both of the Campbells.

  All it would take would be the wrong person to see him coming or leaving, someone that would want to get him through them. He’d have to be careful, as Bowman said. He would never forgive himself if he ever became the cause of their demise, in any way.

  And for the man that would dare touch either one of those lovely ladies, there wouldn’t be a hole deep enough to hide from Cane.

  Unraveled

  Monday, 9/11/2028, 11:22 p.m.

  Perkins, Florida

  Cane was back at his and Lynks’ house in Florida, waiting on Calvin and Lynks to arrive. It had been a long day. He’d driven Calvin’s car back while Calvin drove Lynks’s mobile center. The van allowed Lynks to stretch out for the long trip.

  Calvin took Lynks to see a doctor friend of his in the Chicago area right after leaving the building downtown. Lynks’s injuries weren’t too severe, the worst of it being a concussion, so there was little that could be done to help. The doc recommended rest and recovery, so Calvin cleared out a spot in the back of the mobile center and they headed home. They didn’t have time to linger in Chicago any longer; they had less than twenty-four hours to prepare for whatever would happen with Daniel.

  The trip to the Clark Street building was nearly a waste of time, and would have been if Lynks wouldn’t have noticed the BioFare brochure on the table. He felt well enough to check out the company on the long drive back to Florida. BioFare was one of the first companies to mass-produce Eguns, but that wasn’t the only thing they specialized in. The US government also contracted them to produce EMPs.

  As Lynks looked through the company history and locations, he noticed the address of a building very near to the facility Calvin showed him the day before, which got him thinking. What if there was a facility in Oglethorpe, Georgia, near Macon State Prison? It would be a way to narrow down the routes Daniel’s transport would take from the prison.

  Now they had one day left to plan, and they all needed rest. Cane was about to call it a night when he heard a phone ring; it was coming from a spare phone inside his bag. Only one person could be calling that number. Helen. He only used it for their rare conversations. By the time he reached the phone, it had stopped ringing but immediately rang again. He picked it up.

  ◆◆◆

  Monday, 9/11/2028, 11:35 p.m.

  Campbell house

  Hart finished searching the Campbell house, finding nothing of value to help identify the perpetrator or to determine Kristy’s whereabouts. Now he paced the den, where Barkley still sat with Helen’s dead body.

  Calling Cane had been one of the tensest things he’d ever done. It was a strange feeling to hear his voice on the other end of the line, but it wasn’t how he’d ever envisioned it. Hart knew Cane wouldn’t be pleased with the news, but it was hard to read his precise reaction; he didn’t stay on the phone long.

  However, he talked to Cane long enough to tell him what he needed, and now Hart stared out the window in anticipation. Across the street sat the black car that had been following him and Barkley since they landed in Tallahassee. He couldn’t see well enough to recognize the driver, if there was one, but he was sure it was the same vehicle.

  Hart didn’t know what Cane would do, but it was easy to imagine. He presumed this was the only way to find who’d taken Kristy and why. Barkley agreed and had, in fact, first proposed the idea.

  Hart didn’t have to wait at the window long. As he watched the parked car, he saw it rock side to side and then stop. He’d heard nothing but knew something had happened. He realized he was witnessing the greatest assassin on the planet at work, someone that only a day earlier he thought to be a ruthless child killer. Now here Hart was, helping him. It was a surreal and disturbing feeling.

  He saw Cane emerge into the yard between the house and the parked car, dragging a man by the arm. He didn’t seem to be concerned about witnesses, though the Campbell house wasn’t in a densely populated area. Hart wondered, though, if Cane just didn’t care anymore. He had a determined look on his face as he walked toward the back of the house, and Hart was suddenly frightened for his and Barkley’s lives. What if he’d lost it?

  Cane looked every bit as intimidating as Hart had heard over the years. His scraggly beard and bald head made him look mean and wild; he was tall and thick through the shoulders and chest and looked as strong as anyone Hart had seen. He dragged the man effortlessly behind him. They disappeared around the side of the house, and Hart waited. He had left the back door unlocked and open; the door couldn’t be automatically operated without Helen or Kristy’s thumbprint.

  “Here he comes,” Hart said to Barkley. She looked nervous too. They moved to the kitchen to wait for him, where they had a better view of the back portion of the house. Hart heard the back door open and a faint rustling, and a moment later Cane came into view, still dragging the man behind him. However, instead of veering into the kitchen, he pulled the man into the big atrium and up the spiral staircase leading upstairs. The unconscious man’s
head was banging on each step as Cane dragged him, but the man still didn’t wake up.

  When they reached the top of the staircase, Cane moved his captive to the railing, picked him up, and dangled him over the side, head facing down. Holding the man by the legs, Cane used one leg to steady himself then kicked through the balusters to the man’s face. The man stirred but didn’t awaken fully, so Cane kicked again, the second kick landing much harder than the first, unimpeded by the balusters. This time the man woke up with a start, trying to figure out what was going on.

  “What’s he doing?” whispered Barkley. Hart shrugged.

  Cane still gripped the man’s ankles, who was awake now; he thrashed until he seemed to realize that if he caused Cane to lose grip, he’d fall headfirst to the floor below. He was grunting and moaning, disturbed by his predicament, but also looked angry.

  “I’ll ask once,” said Cane. “Where’d they take Kristy?”

  The dangling man looked right at Cane and smirked. He opened his mouth to say something but never got a chance. Cane released his ankles, causing the man to plummet to the floor and land with a smack.

  Barkley turned her head as the man landed, but Hart continued to watch. The man wasn’t dead; his head hit at an awkward angle on the tile, though, and he looked badly injured. Cane was in no hurry as he descended the stairs, and as he did, he made brief eye contact with Hart. There was no hint of emotion there.

  When Cane reached the floor, he walked over to the injured man and kicked him, forcing him to roll onto his back. His head was positioned at an awkward, painful-looking angle, and his smirk was gone. There only remained a look of fear as Cane stood over him. “I won’t waste my time with you. You have one more shot. The girl.”

  The man’s smirk returned, but there was pain mixed in with it. “You won’t save her this time.” He laughed, but only briefly.

  Cane shot him in the head.

  The sight was startling to Hart, though it wasn’t because he didn’t feel Cane was capable of such violence. It was because Hart had never seen an execution in person before. Barkley turned her head again, sparing herself the worst. She appeared to be more nervous, as was Hart, wondering what Cane would do now.

  Cane wasted no time as he walked straight toward them. Hart motioned for Barkley to move to the side, and she did, but he stood his ground. Cane’s eyes were blank; if he was angry, there was no hint. Hart didn’t have a gun drawn, and neither did Barkley; he knew this was a gamble, but he figured if Cane wanted them dead, a weapon would do little to stop it, anyway. Their best hope was for him to see with his own eyes that they weren’t a threat.

  When Cane got close enough he sped up, and before Hart knew what was happening, his feet were off the ground. Cane was holding him against the kitchen wall by his neck, squeezing slightly. Barkley looked like she was about to intervene, but Cane shot her a look, and she wisely stayed put.

  “Did you lead them here?” Cane asked Hart.

  Hart could breathe, but barely. He felt the effect of the lack of oxygen in his head and was getting dizzy. Cane dropped him, and he crumpled to the floor.

  “We led them here,” said Barkley. “But not on purpose.”

  Cane looked at her, then past her, and his expression changed as he saw Helen through the kitchen doorway. He walked forward, this time without his usual confidence. He looked smaller, weaker, more human now.

  Hart gathered himself and stood. Barkley looked relieved to be alive. They stepped through the doorway leading to the den and followed Cane at a distance. He was kneeling in front of Helen.

  They didn’t dare make a sound. They’d leave him there as long as he pleased. For a moment, Hart considered tasering Cane and bringing him in. He’d tried to find this man for so long, and here he was, within his reach. He knew it wouldn’t happen, though, for several reasons. Barkley wouldn’t let it happen, for one. Second, now that he’d seen Cane in person, he doubted a taser would subdue him. He’d end up dead trying something like that. And last, he didn’t want to bring him in. Things were different now. There was something bigger going on and Hart wanted to figure it out.

  Cane hadn’t made a sound and had moved very little. Hart didn’t know how close he and Helen were, but he suspected they cared a lot for each other, and judging by Cane’s reaction, he was correct. He didn’t appear in any hurry to leave her side; he looked like a defeated man.

  “Look,” Barkley said. She was pointing at Cane. “He’s crying.” Hart saw a glistening tear trailing down the left side of his face.

  The sight of Cane, broken, was sobering for Hart. He looked at Barkley, whose eyes were filled with tears, and was shocked to see her walk over to Cane. Hart wanted to grab her and pull her back, to tell her to stop, but he didn’t. Barkley knew how dangerous Cane was, and he assumed she knew, or thought she knew, what she was doing, so he kept his distance as she approached.

  She placed a hand on Cane’s shoulder and left it there. Hart tensed, but Cane did nothing to resist.

  “I met Kristy that day,” said Barkley. “I was the first officer at the scene.” Cane didn’t react, and Barkley continued. “That’s why we came tonight. I wanted to see her again.”

  Cane’s head dropped, and he was still. Barkley’s hand now squeezed his shoulder. “Kristy’s out there, Cane. Only you can find her. I swear we didn’t lead them here for this. We realized too late that we were being followed.” With that, she backed away and returned to Hart’s side. Hart smiled at her.

  A few minutes later, Cane stood up, turned to face them, and stepped forward. He appeared to have regained his composure. He stopped a few feet short of them and looked at Hart. “Why’d you call me?”

  Hart realized how confusing it must be for Cane; he didn’t know about any of the internal struggles Hart was having.

  “You’re the only one that can save Kristy,” said Hart.

  Cane thought for a minute. “I figured you’d be in Chicago, cleaning up the mess I made.”

  Hart looked confused. “What mess?” he asked.

  “Remember Connor?” said Cane. “I left his body on a rooftop downtown and a dead Russian across the street.”

  Hart knew Connor. He was one trainee he’d brought in years ago. “I don’t understand.”

  “Connor had the marking,” said Cane.

  Hart glanced at Barkley, who looked equally shocked.

  “That’s not possible,” said Hart.

  “It’s possible,” said Cane. “It’s a certainty. I looked him in his eyes as I killed him. He didn’t know me.”

  Hart shook his head in frustration. How could this happen and he not be notified?

  “Harvey Foster is part of this, I know it now,” said Hart. “He was the only other person who knew we were coming here tonight.” Hart looked over his shoulder. “The dead guy in there. He has a marking too?”

  Cane nodded.

  “He probably could’ve told you something helpful,” said Hart.

  “They don’t talk,” said Cane. “Not unless you have a lot of time and patience.”

  Hart had been wondering why Cane killed the man so fast; now he knew.

  “Do you know where they’re taking Daniel?” asked Cane.

  Hart was surprised Cane knew about Daniel, though he shouldn’t be. “I don’t know,” said Hart. “Bowman was the one that told me about them moving Daniel.”

  “If you want to help, that’s where they need it,” said Cane.

  Hart noted how he used the word “they” and not “we.” He nodded his agreement. “Should I call Bowman?” he asked.

  Cane nodded. “They’ll be at my house all day, planning.”

  Hart thought him having a house seemed surreal.

  “What are you going to do?” Hart asked Cane.

  “Whatever it takes to find Kristy,” said Cane.

  ◆◆◆

  Hart and Barkley had to sit for a minute after Cane left; it had been an exhausting night. He didn’t know what to do with Helen’s body, bu
t he figured he’d just call it in as he left. Cane took the other body with him.

  They were sitting in the dining area, facing away from Helen. They couldn’t bear to look at her any longer. Barkley was sitting with her head buried in her hands and Hart was staring straight ahead, thinking.

  He looked up the incident in Chicago but could find nothing. The only thing he knew to do was to call his old friend, Roger Bishop, with the Chicago PD. Anything pertaining to the marked men went through him.

  “Hart! Long time, buddy. How you been?” said Bishop.

  Hart cringed at how lively and enthusiastic he sounded; it was in stark contrast to how Hart felt. He tried to fake it. “Hey, Roger. I’ve been doing fine. Busy over here.”

  “Busy here too,” said Bishop. “I was thinking I’d see you today, was hoping we could’ve grabbed a beer and caught up on things.”

  Hart played along. “Yeah, I’ve had my hands full with something. I heard there was another dead body found there, one of the marked guys?”

  There was a temporary pause. “Uh, yeah,” said Bishop. “This one was different, though. The man was in military fatigues and perched on top of a building. He had a sniper rifle on a tripod like he was ready to pick somebody off.”

  “He didn’t have ID on him, did he?” asked Hart.

  “Nope,” said Bishop.

  “Who came and cleaned that up?” asked Hart.

  Bishop seemed hesitant, but he was probably just surprised because Hart was usually privy to the details. “I called Todd, like always, Lance,” said Bishop. “I let him know the moment we found out. But Foster was the one who showed up. I was surprised it wasn’t you but even more shocked that he came personally.”

  Hart’s suspicion was rising. “He was by himself?”