“Did you say something?” Victor screamed.
“It barely finished cleaning. The cabinet should have some.”
“Before that, what did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Victor rushed to him with the gun in his hand. “You’ve got two seconds to explain yourself.” He loomed over the pitiful gentlemen who was now shaking like a complete coward. He said nothing. Victor chuckled. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet. He poured some wine for himself. “You want some?”
“Take the bottle. Take whatever you want. Just let me go.”
Victor ignored the rumbling. “When I know where the money is, I’ll leave.”
“I am an office worker. My name is Henry Bridgeman.”
Victor’s phone chimed.
“Hello, dear.” The man listened. “Yes, I’ll be there. As soon as I’ve got it, we can fly away from this place.” He replied. “Something’s breaking up. It must be the reception. I can’t hear you.” Victor checked his phone. There was no reception. His battery was running low. “Don’t you have any cell towers around here?” he complained.
“I appreciate privacy.”
“That’s not what I was asking.” Victor left his phone on the counter and returned to the gent. Alright, office worker, how long do you drive to work?”
“How long do you drive to work?”
The gent shook his head. The trauma was hitting him intensely. His fears redoubled. The most obvious question now posed a problem for his mind that was poisoned by a very rational fear. Victor smacked him on the head. “My commute is 2 and a half hours.”
“Name of the company.”
“Light Way Incorporated.”
Victor jumped to his phone. He browsed and then snickered. “That’s kind of funny since that place doesn’t exist around here.”
“Yes, it does. Check again.”
Victor count’s hold it anymore. Something was rupturing inside him. His unchained anger was roaming around his mind. He felt his chest pounding, ready to burst open. “Stop lying! Stop lying, you dimwit!”
“My name is Henry Bridgeman!”
“You’re Nicholas Theroux, a common thief. You were born in NY. We met five years ago. I married your sister! We robbed the bank and cashed in over 100 million in our last heist. That’s when you disappeared, and so did the money!”
“I’m a mere office worker. We’ve never met!”
“Where is the money?” Victor took out his gun. “The money!” He screamed in anger. His face turned red and sweat dripped down his temple. In silence, his finger was ready to pull the trigger.
“Okay, okay.” The gent sighed in defeat. He felt humiliated and conquered. “I am…I was Nicholas Theroux. But I’m not that man anymore.”
Victor oozing with rage, shoved his leg into the chair. The chair collapsed to the ground with intense verve. The gent’s head hit the hardwood floor. He felt dazed. He lost sensation in one of his hands as the wood was blocking circulation.
Victor walked around as he tried to get a hold of himself. He took a sip of wine, and suddenly, he felt a colossal pain in his foot. Something thin pierced his shoe. He shot up with an intense scream. Unable to preserve balance, he fell to the floor, shrieking. His gun slid on the floor. The gent was unconsciousness.
TO BE CONTINUED
Thanks for reading. Part 3, which is the last one, will be up later this week.