Chapter 20
DING DONG.
DING DONG.
Calm footsteps. Door opens.
“May I help you, sir?” the maid inquired.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m here with a package for Mrs. Rachel Haufensehn.”
“Oh, I’ll see that she gets it,” replied the maid, extending forward her hand in a routine fashion.
“Pardon me, ma’am, but it can only be delivered to Mrs. Haufensehn herself. She’ll have to sign for it,” the tall, moustached man replied with benevolent firmness.
“Sarah, who’s that at the door?” inquired a somewhat haughty voice.
“Pardon me, miss. He says you must sign for the package.” Sarah looked low to the ground as if expecting a beating.
“Why, I don’t know why anyone bothers having servants anymore,” the voice said, as its owner’s footsteps began rapidly approaching the doorway.
When she reached the doorway, she looked the man over from his face down to his toes and then back up with the studious contempt of a connoisseur who has determined the object in question is of inferior quality.
“Sir, are you aware of the purpose of having servants? Don’t bother guessing. It is to save one the mundane tasks that plague the commoner.” But before elaborating further on the subject, she reached forward to snatch the extended ink pen held in the man’s hand.
Before she could grab it, he grabbed her wrist with a vice-like grip, spun her around, and charged into the house, immediately followed by four individuals who had been hiding near the doorway amidst several large bushes.
The moustached man held a damp cloth to her mouth before she had the chance to let out what would have surely been a dreadful scream, and seconds later she fell limp to the ground. While the four men closed the door and kept watch for any surprise arrivals, the moustached man held a knife to the quivering maid’s throat.
“Shhhhhh,” he said calmly. “This can all end without so much as a scratch on your body if you just answer a couple questions.”
The maid nodded her head up and down, her lips stretched back in apprehensive horror.
“Where is the boy, and are there any guards in the house?”
“No guards,” she whispered.
“And the boy?”
The maid hesitated.
The moustached man put a little pressure against her throat with the knife. She flinched and began to cry.
“We won’t hurt him. You have my word,” the man assured her.
Whether consciously or unconsciously it was unclear, but she suddenly looked in the direction of the upstairs.
“Now that’s a good girl,” the man said and then put a damp rag over her nose and mouth. Seconds later she slumped over, by which point the four assistants were already most of the way up the stairs.
As he tied the maid up, he heard a brief cry from upstairs and then rapid footsteps coming his way. Just as he finished tying her to the stairwell, the four men appeared with a sleeping child.
They looked at the moustached man, he nodded, and then they proceeded quickly outside. The moustached man then set the package next to the door, stood Mrs. Haufensehn up, and walked outside with his arm around her. He leaned her against the outside wall of the house briefly while he then put a large metal pole between the floor and the door handle to make it more difficult for anyone to open it from the outside.
He then quickly proceeded towards the street. A carriage was calmly taking off, while another stood there waiting for him, a well-dressed footman in front holding the door open.
The moustached man walked Mrs. Haufensehn into the carriage, and then as the carriage calmly took off, the moustached man secured his passenger to ensure she did not suddenly awake and become frantic, necessitating that he employ violence, something he was instructed only to do as a last resort.
The International Businessman Page 22
