White Collar: An unofficial novel - part 10

Proof of life

How much time had passed? Peter was not sure. Training as well as common sense told him that it felt a lot longer than it was.

Lang took Instamatic photos of motifs only he could see in the strange mannequin dolls in the room.

Peter saw something. Inside his suit jacket was a number fastened with a safety pin, a marking by the dry cleaners that he had not thought about removing this unfortunate morning.

He pulled the jacket backward, keeping his eyes on Lang and doing his best to keep a straight face. Slowly he searched the fabric as he pulled it past his hands inches by inches. Then he found the note and, more importantly: the safety pin.

He freed it and made sure to keep it secured in his hand, not dropping it.

Lang rose and drank from a soda can. Peter bent the pointy end and searched his way to the lock of the cuff.

"You should stay hydrated," Lang said and dropped the empty and inside the bars. An effort to humiliate him that was pathetic.

A young guy turned up with a padded envelope.

"Caffrey is on his way to the exchange," he said.

Peter frowned. Caffrey? The FBI would never have agreed to any terms. They did not negotiate with kidnappers taking their staff. That was a risk he signed on to.

"Check in with Ridgefield?" Lang asked.

"Yeah. The transfer is in motion."

Lang checked the content in the envelope. It seemed to be two passports.

"Okay, all right. Terrific," Lang nodded to them and put them back in the envelope. "Well, you stay here. All right? Don't talk to him. Don't let him talk to you. And don't take your eyes off him." He picked up his latest photo that had developed on his desk. "That's nice."

"Lang, did I hear you mention Ridgefield?" Peter asked.

"Keep your mouth shut."

"Ridgefield. Private security firm that the government has contracted out to transfer prisoners."

"Could be," Lang agreed. "Or maybe I have a cousin Elmo Ridgefield."

"Sounds to me like you're helping Keller escape during his transfer," Peter continued, trying to push the man out of his comfort zone. "You're meeting Neal for an exchange. So you're using whatever he gives you to buy off Ridgefield. And they're gonna let Keller escape during the transfer."

"You are a smart guy. You know what? I genuinely like watching you work. So you probably also picked up on the fact that I don't care if you heard us."

"Which means you don't intend to let me go. You intend to kill me." Peter knew that from the moment he was kidnapped.

"No. No, I don't intend to kill you," Lang replied. Peter knew what the man was telling him.

"No. Keller does. Once he's free."

Lang just smiled and shrugged.

"Keep an eye on our friend," he told the other guy and left.

Peter returned to lock picking. The principle of a handcuff lock and its key were simple. It was possible to bend a needle or a paper clip to a key. But it was much, much harder when you had your hands cuffed on your back. You had no visuals, and your hands were in a more awkward position.

He was a federal agent, trained by the best in the country. He had to keep his fright away and focus on what he could do.