Mann frowned. “What’s this about?”
“We would prefer to discuss that inside if you don’t mind.”
“Very well.” He led the men into the living room.
“You were recently in Switzerland, were you not?”
The question threw him off guard. “What? Yes, but what on earth …?”
“While you were gone we had your books audited, Mr Mann. Are you aware that there is a shortage in your bank of one million dollars?”
William Mann looked at the two men, aghast. “What are you talking about? I check those books every week myself. There has never been one penny missing!”
“One million dollars, Mr Mann. We think you’re responsible for embezzling it.”
His face was turning red. He found himself sputtering. “How … how dare you! Get out of here before I call the police.”
“That won’t do you any good. What we want you to do is repent.”
He was staring at them now, confused. “Repent? Repent what! You’re crazy!”
“No, sir.”
One of the men pulled out a gun. “Sit down, Mr Mann.”
Oh, my God! I’m being robbed. “Look,” Mann said, “take whatever you want. There’s no need for violence and …”
“Sit down, please.”
The second man walked over to the liquor cabinet. It was locked. He smashed the glass and pulled the cabinet open. He picked up a large water glass, filled it with scotch, and carried it over to where Mann was seated.
“Drink this. It will relax you.”
“I … I never drink after dinner. My doctor …”
The other man put the gun to William Mann’s temple. “Drink it or the glass is going to be full of your brains.”
Mann understood now that he was in the hands of two maniacs. He took the glass in his shaking hand and took a sip.
“Drink it down.”
He took a larger swallow. “What … what is it you want?” He raised his voice, hoping that his wife might hear and come downstairs, but it was a vain hope. He knew what a sound sleeper she was. The men were obviously here to rob the house. Why don’t they just get on with it?
“Take anything,” he said. “I won’t stop you.”
“Finish up what’s in the glass.”
“This isn’t necessary. I …”
The man punched him hard above his ear. Mann gasped with pain. “Finish it.”
He swallowed the rest of the whisky in one gulp, and felt it burning as it went down. He was beginning to feel giddy. “My safe is upstairs in the bedroom,” he said. His words were beginning to slur. “I’ll open it for you.” Maybe that would wake his wife and she could call the police.
“There’s no hurry,” the man with the gun said. “You have plenty of time for another drink.”
The second man went back to the liquor cabinet and filled the glass to the brim again. “Here.”
“No, really,” William Mann protested. “I don’t want it.”
The glass was shoved into his hand. “Drink it down.”
“I really don’t …”
A fist slammed into the same spot above his ear. Mann almost fainted from the pain.
“Drink it.”
Well, if that’s what they want, why not? The quicker this nightmare is over with, the better. He took a big swallow and gagged.
“If I drink any more, I’m gonna be sick.”
The man said quietly, “If you get sick, I’ll kill you.”
Mann looked up at him and then at his partner. There seemed to be two of everybody.
“What do all of you want?” he mumbled.
“We told you, Mr Mann. We want you to repent.”
William Mann nodded drunkenly. “Okay, I repent.”
The man smiled. “You see, that’s all we ask. Now …” He put a piece of paper in Mann’s hand. “All you have to do is write, ‘I’m sorry. Forgive me.’”
William Mann looked up blearily. “Tha’s all?”
“That’s all. And then we’ll leave.”
He felt a sudden sense of elation. So that was what this was all about. They were religious fanatics. As soon as they left he would call the police and have them arrested. I’ll see to it that the bastards are hanged.
“Write, Mr Mann.”
It was difficult for him to focus. “What did you say you want me to write?”
“Just write, ‘I’m sorry. Forgive me.’”
“Right.” He had difficulty holding the pen. He concentrated very hard and began to write. I’m sorry. Forgive me.