The Hostage: BookShots (Hotel Series) by James Patterson
Authors: James Patterson
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Crime, Mystery, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Crime Fiction, amateur sleuth, Murder, Serial Killers, International Mystery & Crime, Noir, Thrillers & Suspense, Kidnapping, Amateur Sleuths
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PROLOGUE
Kensington, London, 2000
Everything was exactly as he’d said it would be.
Silently, he climbed the grand staircase, turning to his right when he reached its elegant summit.
He looked down the wide hallway.
The night light was on outside the boy’s bedroom, as he’d been told it would be. He crept down the corridor and stood outside the dimly lit room. The door was decorated with the boy’s own colourful drawings.
Inside, he could hear the child’s gentle breathing. His anticipation grew and his heart beat faster. For a moment he froze, until his adrenaline pumped again and he stepped forward into the room.
There was no going back.
In one rapid movement, he scooped up the boy along with his soft, warm comforter. A second later he was back in the hallway, holding the boy and walking quickly towards the stairs.
Did he hear a noise? He quickened his pace.
Three steps from the foot of the stairs, the boy stirred.
He stopped. The boy stretched up an arm, turning his body, before almost immediately settling into a deep sleep once again.
A voice at the foot of the stairs told him to hurry. A flashlight pointed the way, down the hall and into the kitchen. Both men walked quickly. He followed the light through the kitchen, out of the back door of the house and into the pitch black of the night.
The late-winter cold hit him as he entered the garden and he instinctively wrapped the boy’s comforter more tightly around his small, vulnerable body. Exactly as he’d been promised, none of the security lights were activated.
The flashlight pointed his way across the grass, through the shrubbery and onto the gravel track at the back of the house. As soon as he arrived, the waiting BMW opened its trunk and he stepped forward to lay the boy inside.
The boy was awake.
For the first time he panicked and clumsily bundled him into the dark space. He slammed the lid shut as the boy cried out for his mother.
Both men jumped into the rear seat of the car. The driver fired the engine, hit the accelerator hard and the car disappeared into the dark London night.
CHAPTER 1
Mayfair, London, 2016
Welcome, friends and honoured guests, to the brand-new Tribeca Luxury Hotel, here in the heart of the world-famous Mayfair district of London. Thirty years ago, in conjunction with my esteemed business partner, Oscar Miller, I opened the very first Tribeca Luxury Hotel in New York City. My aim today remains exactly as it was those thirty years ago – to deliver the ultimate in indulgence and service, set in the most opulent and tranquil surroundings.
When we opened our very first hotel, we placed our guests and the service we provided them at the very heart of everything we did. I am proud to say across our twenty-seven luxury hotels in operation around the world today, and of course in this, our twenty-eighth, that personal service remains. Every guest is treated as an individual and welcomed every time they visit as if they are returning to their very own home – the most luxurious home in the world.
In three days’ time I will fulfil a lifelong ambition of opening a luxury hotel in Mayfair. For the very first time, we are bringing our unparalleled levels of exclusive accommodation, opulence and pure indulgence to the people of London and its international visitors. We take delight in offering our guests incomparable levels of comfort, consideration and security and our brand-new forty floors of palatial rooms are our finest demonstration of this yet.
I am honoured you are able to join us today at the exclusive preview of what I believe is the finest hotel in the world. Each one of you is my personal guest and I could not be more thrilled to welcome you to the new home of luxury in London, the Tribeca Hotel.
Jackson Harlington
Chairman, Tribeca Luxury Hotels
Stanley Samson stood in the marbled lobby and watched as each VIP guest was handed a branded magazine with a welcome letter from Jackson Harlington. This wasn’t
Kensington, London, 2000
Everything was exactly as he’d said it would be.
Silently, he climbed the grand staircase, turning to his right when he reached its elegant summit.
He looked down the wide hallway.
The night light was on outside the boy’s bedroom, as he’d been told it would be. He crept down the corridor and stood outside the dimly lit room. The door was decorated with the boy’s own colourful drawings.
Inside, he could hear the child’s gentle breathing. His anticipation grew and his heart beat faster. For a moment he froze, until his adrenaline pumped again and he stepped forward into the room.
There was no going back.
In one rapid movement, he scooped up the boy along with his soft, warm comforter. A second later he was back in the hallway, holding the boy and walking quickly towards the stairs.
Did he hear a noise? He quickened his pace.
Three steps from the foot of the stairs, the boy stirred.
He stopped. The boy stretched up an arm, turning his body, before almost immediately settling into a deep sleep once again.
A voice at the foot of the stairs told him to hurry. A flashlight pointed the way, down the hall and into the kitchen. Both men walked quickly. He followed the light through the kitchen, out of the back door of the house and into the pitch black of the night.
The late-winter cold hit him as he entered the garden and he instinctively wrapped the boy’s comforter more tightly around his small, vulnerable body. Exactly as he’d been promised, none of the security lights were activated.
The flashlight pointed his way across the grass, through the shrubbery and onto the gravel track at the back of the house. As soon as he arrived, the waiting BMW opened its trunk and he stepped forward to lay the boy inside.
The boy was awake.
For the first time he panicked and clumsily bundled him into the dark space. He slammed the lid shut as the boy cried out for his mother.
Both men jumped into the rear seat of the car. The driver fired the engine, hit the accelerator hard and the car disappeared into the dark London night.
CHAPTER 1
Mayfair, London, 2016
Welcome, friends and honoured guests, to the brand-new Tribeca Luxury Hotel, here in the heart of the world-famous Mayfair district of London. Thirty years ago, in conjunction with my esteemed business partner, Oscar Miller, I opened the very first Tribeca Luxury Hotel in New York City. My aim today remains exactly as it was those thirty years ago – to deliver the ultimate in indulgence and service, set in the most opulent and tranquil surroundings.
When we opened our very first hotel, we placed our guests and the service we provided them at the very heart of everything we did. I am proud to say across our twenty-seven luxury hotels in operation around the world today, and of course in this, our twenty-eighth, that personal service remains. Every guest is treated as an individual and welcomed every time they visit as if they are returning to their very own home – the most luxurious home in the world.
In three days’ time I will fulfil a lifelong ambition of opening a luxury hotel in Mayfair. For the very first time, we are bringing our unparalleled levels of exclusive accommodation, opulence and pure indulgence to the people of London and its international visitors. We take delight in offering our guests incomparable levels of comfort, consideration and security and our brand-new forty floors of palatial rooms are our finest demonstration of this yet.
I am honoured you are able to join us today at the exclusive preview of what I believe is the finest hotel in the world. Each one of you is my personal guest and I could not be more thrilled to welcome you to the new home of luxury in London, the Tribeca Hotel.
Jackson Harlington
Chairman, Tribeca Luxury Hotels
Stanley Samson stood in the marbled lobby and watched as each VIP guest was handed a branded magazine with a welcome letter from Jackson Harlington. This wasn’t
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