“Mad? Me?” I say. “Hardly. I’m the sanest person I know.”
“Please,” he says, tears rolling down his face. “Have mercy. I’m to be married on Christmas Eve.”
My laugh is as caustic as battery acid: “In another life, Denton, I ate my own children. You’ll get no mercy from me or my sisters.”
As his confusion and horror become complete, I look up into the night sky, feeling storms rising in my head and understanding once again that I am superior, a superhuman imbued by forces that go back thousands of years.
“For all true Olympians,” I vow, “this act of sacrifice marks the beginning of the end of the modern games.”
Then I wrench the old man’s head so his back arches.
And before he can scream, I furiously rip the blade with such force that his head comes free of his neck all the way to his spine.
THURSDAY, JULY 26, 2012, 9:24 A.M.
IT WAS MAD-DOG hot for London. Peter Knight’s shirt and jacket were drenched with sweat as he sprinted north on Chesham Street past the Diplomat Hotel and skidded around the corner toward Lyall Mews in the heart of Belgravia, some of the most expensive real estate in the world.
Don’t let it be true, Knight screamed internally as he entered the mews. Dear God, don’t let it be true.
Then he saw a pack of Fleet Street jackals gathering at the yellow tape of a London Metropolitan Police barricade that blocked the road in front of a cream-colored Georgian townhome. Knight lurched to a stop, feeling like he was going to retch up the eggs and bacon he’d had for breakfast.
What would he ever tell Amanda?
Before Knight could compose his thoughts or still his stomach, his cell phone rang and he snatched it from his pocket without looking at the caller ID.
“Knight,” he managed to choke. “That you, Jack?”
“No, Peter, it’s Nancy,” she replied in her Irish brogue. “Isabel has come down sick.”
“What?” he groaned. “No. I just left the house an hour ago.”
“She’s running a temperature,” his full-time nanny insisted. “I just took it.”
“How high?”
“One hundred. She’s complaining about her stomach too.”
“Lukey?”
“He seems fine,” she said. “But…”
“Give them both a cool bath, and call me back if Isabel’s temp hits 101,” Knight said. He snapped the phone shut, swallowing the bile burning at the back of his throat.
A wiry man about six-foot with an appealing face and light-brown hair, Knight had once been a special prosecutorial investigator assigned to the Old Bailey courthouse. Two years ago, however, he had joined the London office of Private Worldwide at twice the pay and prestige. Private had been called the Pinkerton Agency of the twenty-first century, with offices in every major city in the world staffed by top-notch forensics scientists, security specialists, and investigators such as Knight.
Compartmentalize, he told himself. Be professional. But this felt like the straw breaking his back. Knight had already endured too much grief and loss in his personal life. Just the week before, his boss, Dan Carter, and four of his colleagues had perished in a plane crash over the North Sea that was still under investigation. Could he live with another death?
Pushing that question and his daughter’s illness to one side, Knight forced himself to hurry through the sweltering heat toward the police barrier, giving the Fleet Street crowd a wide berth, and in so doing spotted Billy Casper, a Scotland Yard captain he’d known for fifteen years.
He went straight to Casper, a blockish, pock-faced man who scowled the second he saw Knight. “Private’s got no business in this, Peter.”
“If that’s Sir Denton Marshall dead in there, then Private does have business in this, and I do too,” Knight shot back forcefully. “Personal business, Billy. Is it Sir Denton?”
Casper said nothing.
“Is it?” Knight demanded.
Finally the captain nodded, but he wasn’t happy about it, and he asked suspiciously, “How are you and Private involved?”
Knight stood there a moment, feeling lambasted by the news, and wondering again how the hell he was going to tell Amanda. Then he shook off the despair and said, “London Olympic Organizing Committee is Private London’s client. Which makes Sir Denton Private’s client.”
“And you?” Casper demanded. “What’s your personal stake in this? You a friend of his or something?”
“Much more than a friend. He was engaged to my mother.”
Casper’s hard expression softened a bit, and he chewed at his lip before saying, “I’ll see if I can get you in. Elaine will want to talk to you.”
Knight felt suddenly as if invisible forces were conspiring against him.
“Elaine caught this case?” he said, wanting to punch something. “You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious, Peter,” Casper said. “Lucky, lucky you.”
SUPERVISING INSPECTOR ELAINE Pottersfield was one of the finest detectives working for the London Metropolitan Police, a twenty-year veteran of the force with a prickly, know-it-all style that got results. Pottersfield had solved more murders in the past two years than any other inspector at Scotland Yard. She was also the only person Knight knew who openly despised his presence.
An attractive woman in her forties, the supervising inspector always put Knight in mind of a borzoi dog, with large round eyes, an aquiline face, and silver hair that cascaded about her shoulders. When he entered Sir Denton Marshall’s kitchen, Pottersfield eyed him down her sharp nose, looking ready to bite at him if she got the chance.
“Peter,” she said coldly.
“Elaine,” Knight said.
“Not exactly my idea to let you into the crime scene.”
“No, I imagine not,” replied Knight, fighting to control his emotions, which were heating by the second. Pottersfield always seemed to have that effect on him. “But here we are. What can you tell me?”
The Scotland Yard supervising inspector did not reply for several moments, grew disgusted, and finally said, “The maid found him, or what’s left of him anyway, an hour ago out in the garden.”
Flashing on Sir Denton, the learned and funny man he’d come to know and admire over the past two years, Knight felt his legs go wobbly, and he had to put his vinyl-gloved hand on the counter. “What’s left of him?” he repeated.
Pottersfield grimly gestured at the open French door.
Knight absolutely did not want to go out into the garden. He wanted to remember Sir Denton as he was the last time he’d seen him, two weeks before, with his shock of startling white hair, scrubbed pink skin, and easy, infectious laugh.
“I understand if you’d rather not,” Pottersfield said. “Captain Casper said your mother was engaged to Sir Denton. When did that happen?”
“New Year’s past,” Knight said. He swallowed and moved toward the door, adding bitterly, “They were to be married on Christmas Eve. Another tragedy. Just what I need in my life, isn’t it?”
Pottersfield’s expression twisted in pain and anger, and she looked at the kitchen floor as Knight went by her and out into the garden.
The air in the garden was still, growing hotter, and stank of death and gore. On the flagstone terrace, five quarts of blood, the entire reservoir of Sir Denton’s life, had run out and congealed around his decapitated corpse.
“The medical examiner thinks the job was done with a long curved blade with a serrated edge,” Pottersfield said.
Knight again fought off the urge to vomit as he tried to take in the entire scene, to burn it into his mind as if it were a series of photographs and not reality. Keeping everything at arm’s length was the only way he knew to get through something like this.
Pottersfield said, “And if you look closely, you’ll see some of the blood’s been sprayed back toward the body with water from the garden hose. I’d expect the killer did it to wash away footprints and such.”
Knight nodded and t
hen, by sheer force of will, moved his attention beyond the body, deeper into the garden, bypassing forensics techs gathering evidence from the flower beds, to a crime scene photographer snapping away near the back wall.
Knight skirted the corpse by several feet and from that new perspective saw what the photographer was focusing on. It was ancient Greek and one of Sir Denton’s prized possessions: a headless limestone statue of an Athenian senator cradling a book and holding the hilt of a busted sword.
Sir Denton’s head had been placed in the empty space between the statue’s shoulders. His face was puffy, lax. His mouth was twisted to the left, as if he were spitting. And his eyes were open, dull, and, to Knight, shockingly forlorn.
For an instant, the Private detective wanted to break down. But then he felt himself swell with outrage. What kind of barbarian would do such a thing? And why? What possible reason could there be to behead Denton Marshall? The man was more than good. He was…
“You’re not seeing it all, Peter,” Pottersfield said behind him. “Go look at the grass in front of the statue.”
Knight closed his hands into fists and walked off the terrace onto the grass, which scratched against the paper booties he wore over his shoes, making a sound like fingernails on a chalkboard. Then he saw it and stopped cold.
Five interlocking rings, the symbol of the Olympic Games, had been spray-painted on the grass in front of the statue.
Over the top of the symbol, an X had been smeared with blood.
About the Authors
JAMES PATTERSON has had more New York Times bestsellers than any other writer, ever, according to Guinness World Records. Since his first novel won the Edgar Award in 1977, James Patterson’s books have sold more than 240 million copies. He is the author of the Alex Cross novels, the most popular detective series of the past twenty-five years, including Kiss the Girls and Along Came a Spider. Mr. Patterson also writes the bestselling Women’s Murder Club novels, set in San Francisco, and the top-selling New York detective series of all time, featuring Detective Michael Bennett.
James Patterson also writes books for young readers, including the Maximum Ride, Daniel X, Witch & Wizard, and Middle School series. In total, these books have spent more than 220 weeks on national bestseller lists.
His lifelong passion for books and reading led James Patterson to launch the website ReadKiddoRead.com to give adults an easy way to locate the very best books for kids. He writes full-time and lives in Florida with his family.
MAXINE PAETRO is the author of three novels and two works of nonfiction, and the coauthor of nine books with James Patterson. She lives in New York with her husband.
BOOKS BY JAMES PATTERSON
The Private Novels
Private: #1 Suspect (with Maxine Paetro)
Private (with Maxine Paetro)
A complete list of books by James Patterson is at the end of this book. For previews and information about the author, visit JamesPatterson.com or find him on Facebook or at your app store.
Books by James Patterson
Featuring Alex Cross
Kill Alex Cross • Cross Fire • I, Alex Cross • Alex Cross’s Trial (with Richard DiLallo) • Cross Country • Double Cross •
Cross • Mary, Mary • London Bridges • The Big Bad Wolf • Four Blind Mice • Violets Are Blue • Roses Are Red • Pop Goes the Weasel • Cat & Mouse • Jack & Jill • Kiss the Girls •
Along Came a Spider
The Women’s Murder Club
10th Anniversary (with Maxine Paetro) • The 9th Judgment (with Maxine Paetro) • The 8th Confession (with Maxine Paetro) • 7th Heaven (with Maxine Paetro) • The 6th Target (with Maxine Paetro) • The 5th Horseman (with Maxine Paetro) • 4th of July (with Maxine Paetro) • 3rd Degree (with Andrew Gross) • 2nd Chance (with Andrew Gross) • 1st to Die
Featuring Michael Bennett
Tick Tock (with Michael Ledwidge) • Worst Case (with Michael Ledwidge) • Run for Your Life (with Michael Ledwidge) • Step on a Crack (with Michael Ledwidge)
The Private Novels
Private: #1 Suspect (with Maxine Paetro) • Private (with Maxine Paetro)
Other Books
The Christmas Wedding (with Richard DiLallo) • Kill Me If You Can (with Marshall Karp) • Now You See Her (with Michael Ledwidge) • Toys (with Neil McMahon) • Don’t Blink (with Howard Roughan) • The Postcard Killers (with Liza Marklund) • The Murder of King Tut (with Martin
Dugard) • Swimsuit (with Maxine Paetro) • Against
Medical Advice (with Hal Friedman) • Sail (with Howard Roughan) • Sundays at Tiffany’s (with Gabrielle Charbonnet) • You’ve Been Warned (with Howard Roughan) •
The Quickie (with Michael Ledwidge) • Judge & Jury (with
Andrew Gross) • Beach Road (with Peter de Jonge) • Lifeguard (with Andrew Gross) • Honeymoon (with Howard Roughan) • Sam’s Letters to Jennifer • The Lake House • The Jester (with Andrew Gross) • The Beach House (with Peter de Jonge) • Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas • Cradle and All • When the Wind Blows • Miracle on the 17th Green (with Peter de Jonge) • Hide & Seek • The Midnight Club •
Black Friday (originally published as Black Market) •
See How They Run (originally published as The Jericho
Commandment) • Season of the Machete • The Thomas
Berryman Number
For Readers of All Ages
Maximum Ride: The Manga, Vol. 5 (with NaRae Lee) • Witch & Wizard: The Fire (with Jill Dembowski) • Witch & Wizard: The Manga, Vol. 1 (with Svetlana Chmakova) • Daniel X: Game Over (with Ned Rust) • Daniel X: The Manga, Vol. 2 (with SeungHui Kye) • Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Laura Park) • Maximum Ride: The Manga, Vol. 4 (with NaRae Lee) • ANGEL: A Maximum Ride Novel • Witch & Wizard: The Gift (with Ned Rust) • Daniel X: The Manga, Vol. 1 (with SeungHui Kye) • Maximum Ride: The Manga, Vol. 3 (with NaRae Lee) • Daniel X: Demons and Druids (with Adam Sadler) • Med Head [Against Medical Advice teen edition] (with Hal Friedman) • FANG: A Maximum Ride Novel • Witch & Wizard (with Gabrielle Charbonnet) • Maximum Ride: The Manga, Vol. 2 (with NaRae Lee) •
Daniel X: Watch the Skies (with Ned Rust) • MAX: A Maximum Ride Novel • Maximum Ride: The Manga, Vol. 1 (with NaRae Lee) • Daniel X: Alien Hunter (graphic novel; with Leopoldo Gout) • The Dangerous Days of Daniel X (with Michael Ledwidge) • Maximum Ride: The Final Warning • Maximum Ride: Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports • Maximum Ride: School’s Out—Forever • Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment • santaKid
For previews and information about the author, visit JamesPatterson.com or find him on Facebook or at your app store.
Contents
Dedication
Prologue: Shots in the Dark
One
Two
Three
Part One: I Didn’t Do It
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Part Two: Love You, Love You Not
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Part Three: Cut to the Chase
Chapter 64
Chapter 65