Thanks so much for all the reviews. I'm so happy some of you are enjoying my twisted little story.
Unfinished Business
Chapter 10:
Peter accused Neal of having a bad concussion when he brought up lock picking.
Sure, Neal had mastered lock picking but it was his trade. Peter never had the pleasure. Though, now that he thought about it, he wondered why FBI agents weren't trained for this sort of thing? He'd have to bring the topic up at their next quarterly meeting. Neal could easily be the one training them so there was no way Hughes could complain about funding. Yes, that was a brilliant idea! As soon as he got this lock picked and Neal to safety.
Focus. It was so hard to focus. He looked back up at Neal who had passed out again. He was trembling so hard he was slightly swinging himself from the ropes. Was that a symptom of shock? Was it just cold in here? Given the temperature outside and the lack of heating in this run down building, it had to be.
Then why was he wiping sweat from his own eyes? Who would have thought something that took no physical energy whatsoever could cause a man to perspire profusely? It had to be all mental. He took another rub at the salty fluid dripping from his forehead and went back to work.
Neal's lock picking 101 instructions were short and to the point. They involved bending a paperclip, pushing it halfway into the lock, bending the tip of the clip into a 50-degree angle arc, taking it out, putting the clip above the pin in the flat part of the lock, sliding in-between the notches while applying pressure and presto get us the hell out of here.
Of course it took Neal what felt like an hour to spit that many instructions out. Peter had to listen closely and ask him several times to repeat words that were so heavily slurred he couldn't make them out. Neal paused several times to cough. It sounded more like gargling and when the speckles of blood spewed onto his lips with his last cough it almost sent Peter into another raging fit of yanking that pipe from the wall or ripping his own arm off trying.
Instead, Peter repeated Neal's instructions back, hoping he had them straight.
Neal's breath hitched and he moaned his approval.
Heartbroken and feeling helpless, Peter had to inform him he didn't carry paperclips and unfortunately, there weren't any within his reach. The only pointy objects even close to him were in the form of used syringes and the closest one to him would be a gymnastic olympian stretch of the leg.
Neal's last word was 'Improvise' before his eyes rolled into his head and his head lolled across his chest.
Improvise. Peter had ripped his belt off so fast the friction marks across his back were already stinging. Between chewing on the leather with his teeth and digging his strong nails in the buckle it became free.
Improvise. There was a bobby pin in his wallet. He had accidently pulled it out El's hair when he caressed her goodbye at the airport. She had snorted and told him to hold onto it until she got back and that he "better not lose it".
He continued to struggle with the lock. Focus. Improvise.
BAM!
The door nearly ripped from it's rusty hinges.
"Sorry Al! I didn't bring them here!"
"Do you realize what you did!"
"Al, please, I think they were on to us. Don't blame me."
"I'm talking to Agent Burke, not you!"
TBC... one chapter left.