PROLOGUE
The last thing she remembered was running. Running, fast. Looking back over her shoulder every once in a while, half-scared of what she would see. Breathing hard, panting. Her labored breath coming out in frozen clouds before her. A cramp tearing at her insides, she ran on. So, so cold. Her vision became unfocused. It appeared that she was approaching the outskirts of a town. The ground spun, she began to stagger, lose her footing and finally collapse into a snowy ditch, blacking out.
A black supercharged Jaguar drives leisurely along, its occupant rather pleased of his recent purchases of a certain set of crystal glasses, which he has been searching for determinedly lately. Suddenly it slows to a stop. It stands still for a few seconds. A man sporting a long knit trench coat climbs out and leaves his engine running. As he opens the door, a wave of Scarlatti can be heard from inside. He descends down the steep side of a ditch and approaches the huddled mass of clothing cautiously. He crouches down next to the unconscious being and, judging by the long, brown hair and delicate fingers, learns that she is a woman. Gently, with a black-gloved hand, he brushes the icy hair aside to reveal frozen eyelashes closed over eyes, and a slightly parted mouth framed with blue lips. The man presses two fingers into her neck, feeling a pulse, but just barely. Glancing around him briefly, he scoops her up in his arms as easily as if he had scooped up bubbles from a bath, and trudges through the deep snow to his humming car.