Okay. I thought I'd post the prologue of my novel for some feedback. I'm currently on my third polish and getting it ready to send out but I've had a few problems with the opening and would like a broader range of criticism so I can nail down the problem and fix it. But first a quick synopsis...
The Twilight End: 1914, the world is on the brink of what will be known as “The Great War”. But, for affable rogue, Renaissance man, and wayward soul, Richard Grant, none of that matters. He has been called to Sarajevo at the urgent request of his childhood friend and sometime accomplice, Jonathan Edges, on the eve of Archduke Ferdinand’s planned visit. When Jonathan turns up dead at the famous Hapsburg Hotel, Richard finds himself embroiled in a conspiracy amongst the most powerful empires in Europe, at the middle of which is a device so powerful that it threatens to unravel the very fabric of civilization.
“The Twilight End” Features a cast of eclectic characters which include a beautiful and secretive Austrian pianist, a powerful German prince, a dangerous Serbian Captain, a jovial Englishman who may be more than he lets on, and two love-struck Russian youths, each with their own motives and back stories. Navigating the intrigue, Richard Grant must also face the hard truth about how he has chosen to live his own life and the ingrained beliefs to which he so desperately clings.
Most of the novel is from the perspective of the main character - Richard Grant (most easily described as a mash-up of Richard Hannay (from John Buchan's 39 STEPS and various other awesome works) and Indiana Jones with a liberal dosing of existential angst. The Prologue is from another character's perspective that we never see again but its contents deal with one of the central focuses of the novel.
Where possible I tried to keep as many historical facts, timelines, and characters as true to life as possible. So, as you read (hopefully), you'll be presented with a fictional happening through a factual world.
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Prologue: Property of the United States Department of War
It was a cold winter’s night as George Scherff made his way through the elegant hallways of the Metropolitan Tower. After taking the stairs to the Twentieth story (he never trusted a lift in sub-freezing temperatures), it was a welcome breeze that greeted him upon entering his friend and sometime employer’s office. He dabbed his perspiring forehead as he locked the door behind him; best not to take the chance of Nikola laying eyes on his damp skin. Knowing the man, he was sure to be sickened by the sight of human sweat, and that would just make the evening…more difficult. The books had to be looked at, the numbers crunched. Waydenclaff was hemorrhaging money, money that Nikola did not have. Plus there was the move to consider. The Woolsworth Building promised to be the tallest in the world upon completion, even taller than the Met, and Nikola always had to be in the biggest and the best. The cost would be astronomical; still, if things began to turn around they might just be able to scrape by.
