White Collar: An unofficial novel - part 10

Fighting a Fossbender

Peter cursed the safety pin for not being agile enough without moving a muscle in his face. He kept it in the lock, bending it, forming a key, and working the lock without being sure what he was working with.

"Head over to the hangar," Lang told his two men in his quiet voice. "I'll meet up with you when it's done."

They left, and he was alone with Lang. That was better in every aspect. If he got free, one enemy was enough.

"Keller is late," Peter pointed out, watching Lang place a golden ring with a gem onto one of his cigars. "I wonder what he's planning. He's a hell of a chess player. I imagine him sitting in his cell plotting every second of his escape. There's something he's not telling you."

"Hey, I have the ring," Lang returned, sounding bored. "So he's not going anywhere." He placed the adorned cigar back in the box and closed the lid.

"With all his debts to the Russian mob, and the security firm, I wouldn't be surprised if he already spent more than it's worth."

"Shut up."

"Are you sure you have the real ring?" Peter asked and Lang chuckled. How likely was it that Neal had a ring with such value? "Keller paid off your people. Wouldn't be the first time."

Lang grabbed his gun.

"Now is quiet time." A calm man, not easily provoked. He was just tired of listening to his hostage and probably tired of sitting all day in this basement as well.

But Peter had to provoke him. Had to get him closer to the bars. Because he had felt that lock click open, and it was to no use if he could not get his hands on Lang.

"I get it. The feds hassled you. They made your life very unpleasant. So you thought that you could do one last job and disappear." Lang finally rose from his seat, approaching. "He is not gonna hold up his end of the bargain. You are going down for this."

"Hey!" Lang yelled. "I know what I'm doing. Do you understand that? I shot him once, okay? And now I'm gonna finish the job."

So he was going to shoot Keller. Interesting, but besides Peter's point. Lang still stood too far away.

"The only thing is you're not good with a gun," Peter continued, making his best to sound patronizing. This got Lang's attention. "You hold it with no secondary support."

"Uh-huh..." Lang raised his gun and aimed it at Peter.

"And you use your trigger finger to brace for recoil, which means you shoot off-target. No wonder Keller survived when you first shot him. You couldn't hit a man 3 feet in front of you with a full magazine."

"Well, let's give it a try."

Lang took two steps up to the door and put his arm through the bars, getting the gun as close as possible, taking aim.

Peter shot out of his chair and yanked Lang's arm further into the cell, making the man's head knock into the bars. Lang fell down to the floor, unconscious. Peter stared at him through the bars. The gun had fallen too far away, but Lang's phone was in his chest pocket.

Peter sat on his heels and put his arm through the bars. Not even close. He gritted his teeth and looked around. Those mannequin dolls, were they not detachable? Even though they were dolls, they gave him the creeps. And to yank an arm off was nothing he wanted to do. But this was no time for being irrational.

Fortunately, the arm came off easily.

With it he pushed Lang's phone out of the pocket and down on the floor. He moved it over to the bars and took it.