Rinzon had shed his vampire costume but his eyes still glittered back and there was still something evil about his smile.

"Little did I realize, you truly are a team." He studied Peter. "You have one minute to convince me not to shoot you."

"Shoot him and I won't work for you." Neal fired back immediately.

"No? All these other people and this is the one that you would refuse to work if we will not spare?"

He looked back at Peter. "Who are you?"

Peter was silent.

"Mackson."

The thug they'd tied up stepped forward.

"Would you like to have the evening alone with Mr. Caffrey before he continues his work, a little time to readjust his attitude for embarrassing you?"

Neal's eyes widened and he clenched his fists.

The man's smiled slowly, a cut throat smile and looked Neal up and down. "Yes."

"You can have him."

"No!" Peter's lips tightened.

"You don't mind if our other guest watches your fun do you?"

"Not at all."

"Leave him alone!" Peter growled as Mackson stepped up to Neal, who was trying his best to look indifferent. It wasn't working. He was shrinking back, his nostrils flared. "I'll tell you."

"If I leave him alone, you'll tell me? You two do have an interesting relationship."

Neal shook his head at Peter in spite of the fear in his eyes. Peter was afraid too. This would either make them back off or get him killed on the spot.

"I'm an FBI agent and if you hurt either one of us you'll have the full weight of the FBI raining down on you."

Rinzon looked amused. "We are not in the United States."

"I bet you plan to go back eventually. Even if you don't you'll be on every international watch list. We know enough. Our team knows enough."

Rinzon stared at him and Peter glared back defiantly. "You are bluffing. Mr. Caffrey is a criminal."

"Working for us. He's our responsibility and we take care of our own. If you hurt us, you'll pay eventually."

Rinzon nodded slowly. "All right." He studied Peter carefully. "But no-one here goes without working for me." He smiled and glanced at Neal. "I know. He'll inspire you to work faster."

Neal frowned at this. They were taken back to his cell. They were patted down thoroughly. This time, they found the lock picks and took weapons and belts too. It wasn't until they were both dragged into opposite corners of the room and chained that he had an idea what Rinzon meant.

They forced Peter down and one of them came back with a needle and tubing. Neal shifted uneasily watching. Mackson had a painful grip on Caffrey, holding him against the wall but making sure he had a clear view of Peter. They put the needle in and finally started drawing blood. It took a second for Neal to register that they were stepping back and leaving the blood flow out into a bag. Peter struggled for a moment. But they'd chained him so he couldn't reach the needle and it only made it go faster.

Then they moved onto his other side and put another needle in with something flowing into him.

"What are you doing?" Neal's voice took on a note of urgency in spite of his attempts to ignore growing panic.

"We are making sure you are inspired to work quickly. Finish the piece before we fill too many bags." Rinzon came right up to him. "Now how much blood loss does it take to kill someone? And how much loss with the appropriate amount of a foreign drug cocktail pumped in before his mind is gone forever? Mackson will be checking on your progress."

Rinzon and goons finally left. Mackson cast him a chilling parting glance.

Neal stared at Peter in horror and then the canvas. He glanced around wildly but he couldn't see an escape route. He swore inwardly he'd kill Rinzon if anything happened to Peter. How could he paint under these conditions? His normally steady hand was trembling and he couldn't seem to stop it.

At least they were alone. "Peter?" His voice shook a bit.

"I'm here." Peter sounded good.

"If you see a way out, I'd be thrilled. I think that guard might be holding a grudge. My hand's a bit nervous..."

"So's mine." Peter said dryly. "I thought the vampire thing was just a costume." He was trying to calm his friend, for the legendary Caffrey cool was approaching the breaking point.

Neal tried painting, but his practiced eye could spot the wavers in the lines. Mackson kept coming into eye the two, gave him a grin that reminded him of a skull and then left. Neal fought to let himself be absorbed into working on the painting.

A noise made him look at Peter. His friend was gasping softly. "Hey. How are you doing? Any idea what that stuff is?" He wasn't even sure what they were pumping into him.

The response was slurred. "Dunno. Hot. Everything's fuzzy...tingling... my hand...ged id offff.."

Neal stared at Peter. He could see from here he was shaking. The floor was cold concrete but he was hot? His lips tightened. Peter started thrashing, trying to fight off invisible foes. He was hallucinating by the time Mackson came back to check on them.

With monumental effort, Neal put on his best con man attitude and gave the man an appraising glance. "That was kind of mean of your boss wasn't it? Here you are, a loyal worker and he offers me to you and then yanks me away."

Mackson just smiled, shook his head. "I'll have my way with you later."

"Not likely. I'm sure he wasn't impressed with your getting bested earlier."

Mackson's eyes narrowed and he approached slowly. "I could take you now and he wouldn't stop me as long as I left you able to paint."

"Think so huh? Think he wouldn't know?" Neal glanced at Peter. "I'd rat you out."

"Boss'll be gone for hours."

He'd be able to tell how fast I was painting by his condition..." Neal nodded at Peter.

"All he'll know is you didn't paint fast enough. I can neglect to tell him your done until it's too late for him anyway." He grabbed Neal slamming him against the wall. Neal had a momentary twinge of doubt as his head cracked against the concrete. The man was strong and he was pressing him in places that hurt. The more he squirmed the more the man seemed pleased. He gasped as Mackson tightened his grip, forced him down and leaned on a pressure point. Neal hissed with pain. Fingers feeling lightly along his foe, Neal's hand touched the gun. He slid it out and swung hard, clocking his attacker in the temple. Mackson collapsed, growled, tried to grab it and Neal swung again, cold cocking him until he landed limp at his feet. Breathing hard, he searched him,found the keys and freed himself.

He locked Mackson down and rushed over to the door and was relieved it could be locked from the inside. Then he hurried to Peter.