The Hostage: BookShots (Hotel Series) by James Patterson Page B

himself breathlessly onto his side, he was greeted by the sight of his captor standing over him. Picking up a heavy-duty rope from beside the bed, he was tying a hangman’s noose.
    Panic flooded across his body. Trapped and tied, he was physically defenceless. He knew his only hope was to talk to his captor.
    ‘Tell me what you want. If it’s money I will get whatever you ask for. I’m a wealthy man. I can get you anything. Absolutely anything. Just tell me what it is you want.’
    In silence the captor continued to tie the noose.
    The hostage sat himself upright on the bed.
    ‘I can get you cash here today. Or I can put you on a plane to anywhere. Anywhere in the world. You hear me? I’ve more money than you could ever dream of!’
    The captor tightened the noose.
    ‘I said, did you hear me?’ screamed the hostage. ‘I have more money than you could ever dream of.’
    The captor walked to the bed and struck his hostage on the side of the head, throwing him back down.
    The noose was tied.
    ‘Tell me what you want! You must want something? Make demands. Make them now. I can pay you. I’ll pay you anything!’
    But the captor had slipped the noose over his head and was dragging him to his feet. The hostage cried for help but it was hopeless. With the exception of the invited guests gathering thirty-eight floors below, the hotel was empty.
    Being pulled like a dog, with the noose choking his airway, the hostage followed his captor out onto the balcony of the Presidential Suite.
    Thirty-eight floors below, standing on the carefully manicured lawns, the gathering luminaries were being served the finest caviar, flown in from Russia that morning. Savouring every mouthful, their enjoyment was suddenly interrupted by an ear-splitting crash. Looking skywards, they saw shards of glass falling like ice towards the ground.
    Standing on the edge of the balcony was a masked man with a hostage tied in a noose. Slowly, the man raised his knife and ripped through the shirt of his captive. In the gardens below, guests began to scream.
    Forcing his hostage to his knees, his arms above his head, the captor tied his wrists tightly to the iron frame – all that remained of the Presidential balcony.
    He secured the noose.
    Then, with one kick, he pushed his hostage off the edge of the balcony, leaving the man hanging thirty-eight floors above the ground.

CHAPTER 2
    ON THE HOTEL lawns below, cameras and smartphones turned upwards as the man swung from side to side. Stripped to his waist, his overfed figure exposed to the watching audience, he had no defence. Any attempt to escape now seemed futile, as he screamed in desperation at the crowd below.
    Not wanting to keep his audience waiting, the masked man stepped forward and knelt closely beside his suspended hostage.
    He was ready to continue the performance.
    He raised his knife, its sharp blade glittering in the spring sun. The crowd gasped as, slowly, he pressed the knife against the man’s face, letting it delicately cut his cheek as he edged it down towards his throat.
    ‘Don’t do this, don’t do this,’ gasped the hostage. ‘It isn’t too late. However much money you want I’ll get it for you. Anything, absolutely anything. You can have it all. Do you hear me? Anything.’
    The captor let the cold knife press deeper into his hostage’s cheek before pushing his hidden mouth into his ear.
    In a barely audible whisper, filled with hate, he spoke.
    ‘That’s a greedy gut, isn’t it?’
    He twisted the knife, dropping it down, cutting into the tight skin covering his hostage’s obese stomach.
    The hostage shrieked in pain as his captor rose up on his knees, reached skywards and showed the bloodied knife to the screaming crowd below.
    It was time for the final act.
    The captor pressed the knife against the rope that tied his hostage’s wrists to the balcony frame. One cut of that rope and the man would be left hanging by the noose, thirty-eight floors above the ground.
    The