White Collar: An unofficial novel - part 8

Tuesday

As Peter drove the fancy car he realized what he was doing. And it was insane. It could cost him his badge. And now with the evidence gone, it would no longer be a short trip out of what was legally correct.

Peter steered into an industrial area and out to Mercadante Beach where he parked the car.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked.

"This ends here. We're meeting my team." Peter stepped out of the car. "I need to figure this out."

"Not with me, you're not," Jack returned, also out of the car. Peter stared at him. If it had been Neal on the other side of the car, the kid would have the decency to not put him in trouble after all he had done, but Jack did not have the same ideals.

"You can't run from this," Peter told him. If the man tried to run he would have to pull his gun and he hoped he would not need to.

"You saw what just happened! Deckard destroyed the only piece of evidence I'm gonna find that's gonna clear my name. And he's shooting to kill."

"We can fix this," Peter assured him.

"How are you gonna do that?"

Peter sighed. He had no clue. But the rotten tomatoes as Deckard always got what they deserved, sooner or later. That was the way the system worked. That was why there was a legal system where everyone was equal to, one size fits all.

"I don't know yet," he admitted. "But the answer isn't getting on a greyhound bus. Deckard knows that you're in contact with Rebecca. He's gonna go after her to try to get to you. There was a reason that you were willing to risk your career for the witness who was killed in the Sullivan case. I know you still believe in our system."

"Okay," Jack nodded, waving his hand. "You had me at 'he's gonna go after Rebecca.'"

Peter relaxed.

A black Ford came down the road towards them. Peter recognized the driver.

"It's all right. It's all right," he told Jack and walked to meet them. Jones stopped the car and Neal flung the door open.

"That car's got a tracking device as good as my anklet," he said. So that was how they got there as fast. Good thinking.

"Can you disable it?"

"Why?" Jones asked. "You're not coming in?"

"It's complicated," Peter said. "We got to lose the marshals."

Neal stared at him.

"They're not gonna be far behind us." Was the kid worried?

"Then you better get started."

Neal took off his suit jacket and handed it to Peter. It was something the kid had a tendency to do and somehow it annoyed him. He was Neal's supervisor, his handler, his nemesis even, and the kid used him as a clothes hanger.

The kid opened the passenger's door, fished out the car's tool kit, and sat down.

"Do I understand correctly that Peter Burke is on the run?" he asked as he dived down with his hands under the glove compartment. "The same Peter Burke who would neeeever run."

He was not running. He was... on the run.

"No talking."

"Tracking disabled." Neal stepped out of the car with a little black plastic thing with two wires in his hand. He took the gizmo. "You okay?"

It was an honest question from someone who cared. From someone who had been there and knew what lay ahead.

"Getting there," Peter answered, feeling no need to go down Emotional Road at the moment. "Gonna need a place to hide out till we figure out our next steps."