White Collar: An unofficial novel - part 1

Escaping

Neal jumped into one of the old maintainer's trucks by the prison he just escaped from. They were not the most discrete vehicles but they were easy to hotwire. He got it started without a problem. With a grin, he pushed his old music cassette in the player and pocketed the three dollar bills he found in the unused ashtray.

So far so good. Now he was on the road. They would probably find out he had escaped within an hour, but then he would be long gone.

One hour later he reached the outskirts of JFK Airport. He pulled off his uniform jacket and abandoned the truck. In T-shirt and black pants he walked along the sidewalk with people having flea markets. He saw what he hoped to find: a yellow windbreaker jacket.

The seller saw his interest.

"Hi, how are you doing, man?"

Neal sent him one of his best smiles.

"Good, how're you doing?"

"I'm fine."

Neal put the jacket on in front of a mirror.

"Only five bucks, man."

"I'll give you three," Neal beamed back.

"Okay."

Peter paced back and forth in the bank, surrounded by FBI-agents. They were waiting, just as he.

"Drop three," was heard from within the vault where an agent was working to crack the code to a safe.

"Drop two... Drop four. All pins down, preparing to open."

Three, two, four? Peter frowned.

"Three, two, four?" In an instant, he knew. "Wait!" he yelled. But it was too late. There was a bang and from the vault burst a cloud of smoke and dust. Peter ran inside, grabbed the agent and pulled him out. At least he could not see or sense any fire.

"Are you okay!?"

"What happened?" the man coughed.

"I said wait, you didn't wait!" In his heart, he knew he yelled too late. The agent had no reason to wait. "Ah! Ten thousand man hours to get this close to the Dutchman and you blow up my evidence." Frustration took the better of him.

"Agent Burke, how did you know it was going to do that?" Jones asked.

Peter brushed the dust off his suit.

"Three-two-four. Look at your phones. What's it spell?" Jones was not the only one pulling out his phone. Every keypad also had letters.

"Oh, 'FBI.'"

"Yeah, 'FBI.'"

"Apparently knew we were coming..."

"You think so, Copernicus?" Oh, he was angry alright.

Peter noticed red, glimmering fibers on his suit. They were not that willing to leave when he brushed with his hand.

"Somebody wanna- wanna tell me what this is?" He pulled one off with his fingers, holding it "Huh? Anybody? Nobody knows what it is? Great! Where is Diana? Nobody knows that either?"

"She's got a call," Jones said.

"Then go get her!" Burke waved and Jones left. "Look at you. How many of you went to Harvard?"

It was a rhetorical question, but most of the agents raised their hands. Peter felt he was surrounded by idiots.

"Don't- don't raise your hands. Don't." He saw Diana walking towards him. Someone with a brain at last. "Ah, Diana. Look at this. Apparently, our boy has a sense of humor." Diana did not smile. "What?"