Read Online The Hostage: BookShots (Hotel Series) by James Patterson - Free Book Online Page A

19
    SITTING IN THE stylish office at the rear of the lobby, Jocasta Harlington felt numb. She held her daughter’s hand tightly in her own while Oscar Miller, his head bandaged, paced the room, desperately searching for some kind of understanding of what had taken place. In her mind, Jocasta Harlington went over and over what had happened that morning. What had possessed the man to force his way into their suite and why had he targeted Jackson in such a horrific way?
    Jocasta had stopped loving her husband many years before. She often told herself she had loved him once, but that was so long ago and for such a short time that it seemed like they were both different people. For years they had lived separate lives and she knew that was an accommodation which suited her just as much as it suited Jackson. She had beautiful homes in Europe and in the United States where she could spend her time with her daughter and with her closest friends. Jackson would spend most of his time at different hotels around the world and they would come together when business demanded. Today was meant to be one of those occasions: she would stand proudly by his side and together they would launch the newest addition to the Tribeca group of luxury hotels.
    How could somebody hold such hatred towards Jackson? Jocasta may not have loved her husband but she would never wish such a horrendous fate upon him.
    She looked up as Jon Roscoe stepped past the police officer stationed at the entrance to the room and entered the office, along with Anna Conquest.
    ‘Please tell me you’ve got him, Jon,’ she said, greeting Roscoe with a look of desperation.
    Roscoe took a seat on the couch next to Jocasta and shook his head.
    ‘There must be some news,’ said Oscar Miller, continuing to pace around the room. ‘Do you have any idea where he is now? Or who he is?’
    Roscoe shook his head again. ‘But I think we’re making progress,’ he said, turning to Jocasta. ‘I need your help in trying to understand who we’re dealing with.’
    In despair, Jocasta held her head in her hands and covered her face.
    ‘Jon, I told you everything when we were upstairs,’ she said, lifting her head to look at Roscoe. ‘I’ve no idea who he was. Honestly, I don’t. He said nothing to us the whole time he was in the room.’
    ‘I’m not talking about what happened here today. I need to identify any past links between Mr Harlington and the other men who’ve been killed.’
    ‘Others?’ asked Oscar Miller.
    ‘Two others, I’m afraid, Mr Miller. And in a manner just as brutal.’ Roscoe let his words hang in the air. ‘The first was a driver, quite possibly the driver who brought you here today.’
    ‘I didn’t take much notice of him,’ said Miller. ‘I arrived on an early flight and he met me at the airport. I was making calls on the drive in and on arrival I went straight up to my suite. I showered and changed and then made my way down to Jackson and Jocasta’s a couple of hours later.’
    ‘You didn’t take the opportunity to view the hotel?’
    ‘I was here last week. Everything was pretty much done. I spoke to Jackson on the way in and he and I planned to spend some time going over the hotel later this afternoon.’
    ‘And the driver?’
    ‘He arranged for my bags to be taken up to my suite and I didn’t see him again. I assume he went into the hotel somewhere.’
    Sitting at the oak desk, Anna Conquest listened to the conversation while watching the silent images on the television that hung on the office wall. She never could have imagined the events that had taken place during the day, putting her and Jon at the centre of a global news story. The twenty-four-hour news channels were all running rolling live coverage from outside the hotel. They had obtained some phone footage of Jackson Harlington being held on the balcony of the thirty-eighth floor which was being run over and over. Anna watched the footage and then looked across at Jacqueline