‘I’m Robyn Dunmore. My dad was the editor.’ The old lady gave a sharp rustle to her long black dress as she stood up. She always used every inch...of her six-foot frame to intimidate strangers. Her steel-gray eyebrows arched above bifocals. ‘You’re the fourth editor those meddling executors have run in here since Mr. Dunmore took ill,’ she said. ‘So don’t you get fired up and try anything fancy. I’ve been here for ten years and I’ll damn well be here long after Global Media takes over.’ Robyn saw. .” she said in stead, grabbed around the railing´s end post and slowly got onto her knees on the cool marble look-a-like floor. She saw how he began to tie her hands with the belt from her house coat. This WAS happening!“Much easier this way, Ayse “ he mumbled as he tied the belt to both her wrists and the post. Getting free on her own would not be impossible but neither would it be easy. But for now she was kind of helpless and as strange as this may sound, it actually helped her relax a. More

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