No Way to Begin [antikvár]

It was a dark, dank, fllthy night. One of those nights when nothing stirred, nothing but the relentless fali of fine drizzly rain from a low bank of cloud which hung oppressively overhead. Nina Lövell stood just inside a pair of wrought-iron gates, staring across the shadowed lawns at a whiterendered mansion house. There was somé kind of party going on up there. The driveway was packed with cars, and there was light spilling from almost every groundfloor window. The muted sound of music drifted towards her on the damp mizzly air. She shivered, huddling deeper into her thin summer coat, cold hands clenched inside her coat pockets. Somewhere inside that house, the man she had come here to see was enjoying himself, while several miles away, in a house not dissimilar to this one, lay the victim of his latest coup, dying from the horror of it all. 'He can't do it to me, he can't--!' Jonas Lövell had cried out just before a heart attack sent him crumpling to the study floor. But apparently he could do it, and was about to if he couldn't be stopped. Which was why she had come here tonight. She had come to beg, plead, bargain if necessary. Do whatever it took to relieve her father's stress. Did he know about Jonas Lövell's heart attack? And if he did know, didn't he care that in order to swell his own already massive property empire he had crushed another man into the ground? She despised men like him, and a deep shiver shook her slender frame. Her father did not deserve what was happening to him. His whole life revolved around