Jack had gotten far away enough from the construction site where he shot Dana but knew he couldn't relax yet. He looked around himself frantically, listening out for sirens almost to the point of paranoia. As soon as law enforcement knew, Chloe would send anyone and everyone after him. He understood this was out of concern for him, which he respected. But Jack would not let her get in the way of what had to be done. Not when he knew now that Taylor was looking the other way. He clutched the data card in his hand in a fierce way that was indicative of his seething rage. Jack had to keep reminding himself of Taylor's actions to justify what he was planning because, unfortunately, part of him was beginning to understand why Tony had done what he had done.
How the hell did he end up here? One minute, he had been happy, so happy. He and Renee had shared such a vulnerable moment. He had made promises, none of which he could keep now. He didn't even have the necessary resources to honour her. He knew nothing of her family and friends — except perhaps Agent Gold, from what he remembered. This was what he should be spending his energy on: asking Chloe to put him in touch with Renee's family. That would be the logical thing to do. If Kim was here, he was sure she would agree. But he just couldn't let it go. He couldn't look past the injustice in front of him. That was what it always came down to. That was why he could never leave things alone because the guilt of knowing he could have prevented part, if not all, of something terrible would eat him alive.
But right now, he had more heat on his back than he could deal with alone, so he needed help. Ricker had done more than enough for him; if Jack tried to return to his apartment, he risked exposing him, and he had every intention of upholding his promise to keep him underground.
There had never been very many people Jack could trust implicitly, and now most of them were dead, incarcerated, or otherwise unavailable. But Ricker could put him in touch with somebody else — certainly not an ideal choice, but the best one he could make.
He took out one of his burner phones from his bag and called Ricker's number.
"Jack, what the hell is going on? I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt before, but now police scanners are going nuts, saying you killed some woman-"
"I won't tell you because I don't want to put you at risk. There's just one more thing I need you to do."
"Jack, I held up my end of the deal," Ricker reminded him. "I told you I'm done with this. Getting some supplies was one thing. This is too much."
"I need you to put me in touch with Tony."
He scoffed. "Tony? If you're referring to Almeida, he's in solitary confinement in DC."
"Cut the crap, Ricker. I know you got him out of prison, and I know he's in New York."
There was a beat. "Well, l see you haven't lost your personal touch." Ricker huffed. "I don't think he's exactly in the mood to see you, Jack, based on what I've heard."
He rolled his eyes. "I don't care what kind of mood he's in. If you're not going to help me anymore, he's the only one who can."
"Fine," Ricker conceded. "I'll send you where he's been hiding out."
"Thanks," Jack said. "Be careful."
"You, too."
Jack didn't know how Tony would react to seeing him, given they hadn't exactly had the most amiable farewell, and whether Tony would agree to help him was another battle. Really, there was a decent chance he would try to blow his brains out as soon as he stepped through the door.
But what Jack knew for sure was that if Tony had any shred of his old self left, he was going to help him.