THE DEBT TO DANIEL
  
PROLOG
  

It was so cold that he could grasp the freezing night air in his bare hands. His fingers felt cold and sticky, a shimmering membrane seemed to be clinging to his skin. The cold nibbled away at his cheeks, bit into his naked ear lobes, chewing its way into his ears and as far as his ear drums. But it was not powerful enough to enter his body. It laced the strength to penetrate his flesh and his bones and into his innermost self, where he was ablaze.
   The cold could only irritate, and that made him feel strong. Calm, calculating, and strong. Fully aware of life. The life he loved and wanted to preserve; but he didn't know if he'd be able to hang on to it. He was also well aware of the life he was about to extinguish. The life that had robbed him of his future.
   The light had been out long enough for him to

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 feel confident. He'd soon be able to go in.
  He was surprised to feel so scared. Fear surged through his body in wave after wave as he opened the door and stepped into the murky hallway. The panic he felt took him aback.
   He could feel his pulse racing, his heart threatening to burst. He hesitated. Would he be forced to give up? Now, when he'd finally managed to get this far? He broke into a cold sweat. He could feel it running down his back and under his arms. He had trouble in breathing.
   He remembered to take off his overcoat an shoes, as planned, so that he wouldn't run the risk of his own clothes being stained. Before going upstairs he would put on one of Jerry's overcoats hanging there in the hall. He'd choose the lightweight poplin one, that wouldn't get in his way. But before he could go any further he felt the need to sit down and make a pause. The house was asleep. He had time to marshal his forces. Lean his head against the wall, just for