Even though they're not currently showing up on the site, thank you so much for all the reviews for chapter nine. They truly inspired me to write this next chapter as quickly as I could, so here it is! I updated these chapters close together, so please be aware to read chapter nine if you have not! (Especially, if the site doesn't move the story up the list like it sometimes doesn't when chapters are posted this close together.)

Testing Bonds Chapter 10

Neal stood in front of the warehouse and shivered as a cool breeze brushed across the back of his neck. The building looked deserted and unused, but he knew well that its looks were deceiving. Inside those walls, there would be numerous people and possibly a whole lot of trouble.

Slowly, he looked around to see if he could spot anyone else approaching the building.

The instructions he had received from Mozzie had been clear. There were to be no vehicles in the vicinity of the warehouse. Each individual needed to find their own way to the facility without drawing attention to the auction's location. That certainly made things difficult when Jerry and he had been discussing backup. They were five minutes out, and while that length of time had occurred once in a while with Peter's operations, usually he wasn't alone like he was now. Peter, Jones, or Diana had usually been on site, as well.

Swallowing the lump that had centered in his throat, he walked to the warehouse side door, wrapped it three times slowly, paused, and then gave two knocks rapidly. Immediately, the door opened and a big burly man in a black sweater and pants asked, "Name?"

"Oscar Wilde."

No one was using their real names. Everyone had an alias to assure the anonymity of everyone present. It had made the case intriguing to have an alias for his alias, and in some ways, he hoped it made things easier. After all, everyone was pretending to be someone they were not.

The doorman stepped aside and said roughly, "Three doors down. Wait at the entrance until you have been spoken to."

Neal nodded and strolled to the location indicated causally. He didn't want to give any indication that on the inside he was a little startled. Never before at an auction had he had such instructions. It was obvious that once he stood in the doorway, he would be on display for everyone and he quickly knew the reason for it. It was to give everyone a chance to look at his features, to remember him, in case something happened…and that something could be anything. It deterred crime from the criminals, since they didn't like to be seen by the masses while performing their craft. It was a smart move.

In a very short time, he reached the door and stood inside. Already, the room had perhaps fifty people inside and all of them had turned to look at him. One by one, slowly, they looked away, presumably after memorizing his face. Finally, someone spoke to him.

"Ah, Oscar Wilde, is it?"

A man approached him and extended his hand.

Neal shook it and plastered a smile on his face. "Yes. And, you are?"

"Frank Harris."

Neal immediately smiled and said amusedly, "Ah, one of my friends who tried to keep me out of prison."

Frank chuckled and said, "You know your literary history."

"I do try," Neal remarked.

Frank gestured to the room and said, "We are waiting on a few more people to arrive and then the auction will begin. Refreshments are found on the back wall over there." He pointed to his left. "Mingle but remember do not discuss anything that will allow others to identify you or them."

"I'll remember that," Neal agreed.

"Good, then, have a good time."

Frank walked away and Neal was left to his own devices. He walked over to the refreshment table and looked at the room slowly. He didn't see Jackson yet, so he quickly surveyed the room to make sure all the exits in the blueprints of the building were where it said they would be. Regardless of Jerry's reassurances that backup would arrive quickly if he needed it, he wanted his own escape plan, just in case.

=)=)=)

Several minutes before the auction was scheduled to begin, Thomas Jackson walked into the room and paused in the entrance as Neal had done earlier. Neal made sure to give no outward signs of recognition and took a sip of his wine slowly as he also pretended to study Jackson as though he didn't already have his features planted firmly in his mind.

After about a minute, Frank walked up to Jackson.

Neal turned his attention to the group he was currently socializing with and said, "I wonder if that's the last person. I'm ready for things to get started."

The group agreed, and as soon as Jackson entered, Frank walked to the front of the room and raised his wineglass. "Attention, I believe everyone is here, so it's time for the auction to begin…but first, we have a little bit of housekeeping to do."

It was obvious from the mutters and the looks around that no one knew what Frank meant as he nodded to a couple of men on the left side of the room. Neal looked over at them and noticed they were looking directly at him and began to walk his way. A knot of dread settled into his stomach as he glanced back at Frank and noticed that the man was smirking at him. Neal placed a hand on his temple and spoke into the watch on his wrist. "They know! Friday!"

Friday was his code word for backup, but he knew he didn't have time to wait on them. Quickly, he rushed around the back table for one of the exits. He opened it hurriedly and was surprised to see the doorman from earlier standing there. "You can't leave this way, son," the man said, ironically almost sounding sympathetic.

Neal tried to turn around, but the doorman quickly lifted his foot to entangle it with Neal's. It sent Neal flying into the table beside him, but he managed not to fall. Instead, he caught himself with his right hand planted firmly in a plate of deviled eggs. Not hesitating, he grabbed the food and tossed it into the eyes of the man approaching him. Unfortunately, it only distracted him for mere seconds. By the time Neal got to the end of the long table, he was surrounded.

Trying desperately to talk his way out of this, he called out, "Umm, what's going on? What did I do?"

Immediately, almost as if by magic, the men ceased their approach, but it wasn't at all comforting. He was still surrounded and he knew in order for him to escape, if they didn't let him go, things would have to get physical.

Before he could make his decision about what to do or say next, he noticed Frank had begun to approach the circle. He tapped a man on the back and like a door, he was let inside. "Oscar Wilde…or should I say Neal Caffrey?"

Neal immediately breathed in sharply. Frank knew him! But how? He didn't recognize anyone in this room!

Frank smiled and said, "I wish I had this on camera to show everyone your face right now. You know retribution is about to arrive."

"Retribution?" Neal asked. "I have no idea what you're talking about! I don't even know who you are!"

Frank laughed again and replied, "Most people don't, but many refer to me as Marcus Levington."

Neal paused. He had heard that name before. Marcus Levington. Marcus Levington.

He had heard that name whispered a couple of times while on the Pink Panther case. He had been one of the men behind the scenes, one he hadn't met. His eyes widened before he controlled the action and wiped all expression from his face.

Unfortunately, Levington saw it. He chuckled menacingly and stated proudly, "Yes, I thought you might recognize the name. I am surprised, though, that you would have the nerve to come to one of my auctions and then act shocked when I actually show up. I must say, I am impressed with your actions."

Neal closed his eyes momentarily and felt a rush of heat spread throughout his body. Whether it was anger or nerves, he wasn't sure. At the moment, it didn't really matter. Meeting Levington's gaze, he countered, "I didn't know you were here or in charge. I was genuinely interested in the Rembrandt."

Levington seemed to think about that for a moment, touching his lip with his left index finger. "Shame," he said softly. "Regardless, we need to be on our way. I assume you still work for the FBI, yes? They should be here any moment."

As gasps filled the room, he turned to the people and calmed them. "Don't worry. My men removed all criminating evidence from the vicinity when we saw Mr. Caffrey. The FBI cannot hold you on anything. You'll be free to go." He then turned back to Neal and whispered, "As for you, you will not be. You'll be joining our collection."

A man behind Neal grabbed him firmly by the arms and as they started to move towards the exit, he cried out, "What does that mean?"

Levington laughed and said, "Oh, you'll see!"

As soon as they were through the doors, Neal saw that it led into a larger room where there was a van waiting. He knew then if he allowed them to put him in that vehicle, he might not be heard from again. He wouldn't see Peter. He wouldn't work for White Collar, and he definitely wouldn't meet his namesake. All of those things rushed through his mind and he had no idea just how badly he wanted those things to happen until that very moment.

With a loud yell, Neal slammed the heel of his dress shoe on the man pushing him forward and dug it in as hard as he could. The man was wearing loafers, so he knew it might cause enough pain for the guy to release him. When it worked, he pushed the unaware people out of the way and headed for the lifting carport.

"Get him!" he heard Levington call out.

Neal believed he had never in his life run so quickly and that was saying something! He squeezed under the establishment's still rising door as quickly as he could. It slowed him down somewhat, but he knew he was still ahead of his pursuers. Once he was outside, he made his way to a neighboring building. He knew it was unwise to head to the main road, because he would be out in the open then. And, with all the people leaving, they might try to capture him to get into Levington's good graces.

As he reached the nearby building, he slowed down and took in his surroundings. His heartrate was elevated and his breathing had increased significantly, but he was still able to think. He couldn't see anywhere to go near this building, but he noticed by the next that there was a dock and a boat attached to it. With no other boats nearby that he could see, he knew he stood a real chance of getting away if he could get into the water and away from the shore.

Calming his nerves and breathing, he made his way to the edge of the building and waited. When he made sure he heard nothing moving around him, he peeked around the corner. Immediately, he was confronted by one of Levington's men. He let out a startled cry as he stepped backward and the man lifted his hand which had a gun in it.

Neal thought for sure that his life was over. Instead, he heard the cry of sirens in the distance and saw the whip of the man's arm towards his head.

Then, he was aware of nothing else…