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 whiskey 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 would 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 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 this is what it’s all about. They’re 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.”
The man took the paper from Mann’s hand, holding it by the edges. “That’s very good, Mr. Mann. See how easy that was?”
The room was beginning to spin around. “Yeah. Thank you. I’ve repented. Now would you leave?”
“I see that you’re left-handed.”
“What?”
“You’re left-handed.”
“Yes.”
“There’s been a lot of crime around here lately, Mr. Mann. We’re going to give you this gun to keep.”
He felt a gun being placed in his left hand.
“Do you know how to use a gun?”
“No.”
“It’s very simple. You use it like this…” The man lifted the gun to William Mann’s temple and squeezed the banker’s finger on the trigger. There was a muffled roar. The bloodstained note dropped to the floor.
“That’s all there is to it,” one of the men said. “Good night, Mr. Mann.”
FLASH MESSAGE
TOP SECRET ULTRA
CGHQ TO DEPUTY DIRECTOR NSA
EYES ONLY
COPY ONE OF (ONE) COPIES
SUBJECT: OPERATION DOOMSDAY
7. WILLIAM MANN—FORT SMITH—TERMINATED
END OF MESSAGE
Day Ten
Fort Smith, Canada
The following morning, bank examiners reported a million dollars missing from Mann’s bank. The police listed Mann’s death as a suicide.
The missing money was never found.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Day Eleven
Brussels, 0300 Hours
General Shipley, the commandant at NATO headquarters, was awakened by his adjutant.
“I’m sorry to wake you up, General, but we seem to have a situation on our hands.”
General Shipley sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had had a late night entertaining a group of visiting senators from the United States. “What’s the problem, Billy?”