Private down under, p.1
Private Down Under, page 1
Contents
About the Book
About the Author
Also by James Patterson
Title Page
Prologue
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
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
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Chapter 116
Chapter 117
Chapter 118
Chapter 119
Chapter 120
Chapter 121
Chapter 122
Chapter 123
Chapter 124
Chapter 125
Chapter 126
Chapter 127
Chapter 128
Chapter 129
Chapter 130
Chapter 131
Chapter 132
Chapter 133
Chapter 134
Chapter 135
Chapter 136
Chapter 137
Chapter 138
Chapter 139
Chapter 140
Chapter 141
Chapter 142
Author’s Note
Copyright
About the Book
P.I. Craig Gisto, head of the latest branch of Private, is enjoying the glamorous launch party with his new team when their celebrations are interrupted by the bloodied arrival of a boy with his eyes gouged out.
The boy is the kidnapped son of one of Australia’s richest men – but investigating his death isn’t their only pressing case. The rock star Micky Stevens is convinced someone’s trying to kill him, and believes Private are the only ones who can help.
As if that wasn’t enough, someone is murdering the wealthy wives of the Eastern suburbs, in the most brutal way imaginable. And if they don’t catch the killer soon, the next victim could be someone close to Private …
About the Author
JAMES PATTERSON is one of the best-known and biggest-selling writers of all time. He is the author of some of the most popular series of the past decade – the Alex Cross, Women’s Murder Club and Detective Michael Bennett novels – and he has written many other number one bestsellers including romance novels and stand-alone thrillers. He lives in Florida with his wife and son.
James is passionate about encouraging children to read. Inspired by his own son who was a reluctant reader, he also writes a range of books specifically for young readers. James has formed a partnership with the National Literacy Trust, an independent, UK-based charity that changes lives through literacy. In 2010, he was voted Author of the Year at the Children’s Choice Book Awards in New York.
Find out more at www.jamespatterson.co.uk
Become a fan of James Patterson on Facebook
Also by James Patterson
PRIVATE NOVELS
Private (with Maxine Paetro)
Private London (with Mark Pearson)
Private Games (with Mark Sullivan)
Private: No. 1 Suspect (with Maxine Paetro)
Private Berlin (with Mark Sullivan)
ALEX CROSS NOVELS
Along Came a Spider
Kiss the Girls
Jack and Jill
Cat and Mouse
Pop Goes the Weasel
Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
Four Blind Mice
The Big Bad Wolf
London Bridges
Mary, Mary
Cross
Double Cross
Cross Country
Alex Cross’s Trial (with Richard DiLallo)
I, Alex Cross
Cross Fire
Kill Alex Cross
Merry Christmas, Alex Cross
Alex Cross, Run
THE WOMEN’S MURDER CLUB SERIES
1st to Die
2nd Chance (with Andrew Gross)
3rd Degree (with Andrew Gross)
4th of July (with Maxine Paetro)
The 5th Horseman (with Maxine Paetro)
The 6th Target (with Maxine Paetro)
7th Heaven (with Maxine Paetro)
8th Confession (with Maxine Paetro)
9th Judgement (with Maxine Paetro)
10th Anniversary (with Maxine Paetro)
11th Hour (with Maxine Paetro)
12th of Never (with Maxine Paetro)
DETECTIVE MICHAEL BENNETT SERIES
Step on a Crack (with Michael Ledwidge)
Run for Your Life (with Michael Ledwidge)
Worst Case (with Michael Ledwidge)
Tick Tock (with Michael Ledwidge)
I, Michael Bennett (with Michael Ledwidge)
STAND-ALONE THRILLERS
Sail (with Howard Roughan)
Swimsuit (with Maxine Paetro)
Don’t Blink (with Howard Roughan)
Postcard Killers (with Liza Marklund)
Toys (with Neil McMahon)
Now You See Her (with Michael Ledwidge)
Kill Me If You Can (with Marshall Karp)
Guilty Wives (with David Ellis)
Zoo (with Michael Ledwidge)
NYPD Red (with Marshall Karp)
Second Honeymoon (with Howard Roughan, to be published July 2013)
NON-FICTION
Torn Apart (with Hal and Cory Friedman)
The Murder of King Tut (with Martin Dugard)
ROMANCE
Sundays at Tiffany’s (with Gabrielle Charbonnet)
The Christmas Wedding (with Richard DiLallo)
FAMILY OF PAGE-TURNERS
MAXIMUM RIDE SERIES
The Angel Experiment
School’s Out Forever
Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports
The Final Warning
Max
Fang
Angel
Nevermore
DANIEL X SERIES
The Dangerous Days of Daniel X (with Michael Ledwidge)
Watch the Skies (with Ned Rust)
Demons and Druids (with Adam Sadler)
Game Over (with Ned Rust)
Armageddon (with Chris Grabenstein)
WITCH & WIZARD SERIES
Witch & Wizard (with Gabrielle Charbonnet)
The Gift (with Ned Rust)
The Fire (with Jill Dembowski)
The Kiss (with Jill Dembowski)
MIDDLE SCHOOL NOVELS
Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life (with Chris Tebbetts)
Middle School: Get Me Out of Here! (with Chris Tebbetts)
Middle School: My Brother Is a Big, Fat Liar (with Lisa Papademetriou)
Middle School: How I Survived Bullies, Broccoli and Snake Hill (with Chris Tebbetts, to be publis hed June 2013)
I FUNNY
I Funny (with Chris Grabenstein)
CONFESSIONS SERIES
Confessions of a Murder Suspect (with Maxine Paetro)
GRAPHIC NOVELS
Daniel X: Alien Hunter (with Leopoldo Gout)
Maximum Ride: Manga Vol. 1–6 (with NaRae Lee)
For more information about James Patterson’s novels, visit
www.jamespatterson.co.uk
Or become a fan on Facebook
Prologue
I’D SEEN PICTURES of Justine Smith, Jack Morgan’s No. 2 at Private LA, but she was far more beautiful in the flesh.
I stood at Sydney Airport International Arrivals and watched her waft out of customs with a trolley looking like she was ready for a model shoot – no clue she’d just been on a 14-hour flight. She was here to launch the latest branch of the Private franchise created by Jack Morgan in LA – a top-notch investigative agency for top-notch people.
I held back, let her family greet her first. There was her sister, Greta, and husband, my new buddy, Brett Thorogood, the Deputy Commissioner of New South Wales Police, their kids, Nikki, eight and Serge, ten. Then I stepped forward, shook her hand.
I’d parked my Ferrari 458 Spider in the pick-up zone. The Thorogoods headed off after we’d all synchronized watches for the launch party tonight and we were off, pulling out of the airport and onto the sun-drenched freeway.
None of us could have known what a fuck of a week we were about to have.
Chapter 1
HE CAN SEE nothing.
He can hear nothing.
He runs, gasping, hits a hard object – face first. His nose shatters, sending a cascade of agony through his head and down his spine. Falls back, slams to the floor. His head cracking on concrete. More pain.
He can see nothing.
He can hear nothing.
The sack hood over his head stinks of sweat and blood. He tries to loosen the ties, but it’s no good.
He vomits, it hits the fabric, splashes on his face.
He thinks he’ll choke and part of him doesn’t care, wants it. But the survival genes kick in and he panics, pulls up, the spew running down his shirt front. He reaches out and touches the wall. Moves left as fast as he can. He feels the vibration of feet, people running toward him.
A burst of terrible agony in his back. Two thumps propel him to the wall. He smells fresh blood. He smells tire rubber. Another crunch, his thigh exploding. But he keeps to the wall, sweat running down his ruined face, blood drips from his nose, his leg, his back. He feels wet all over. He’s a leaking sieve, his life draining away. The pain in his legs screams. The hood fabric sucks into his mouth.
He has to keep going. ‘MOVE OR DIE … MOVE OR DIE,’ a voice bellows in his head. Shrapnel clips his ear. He screeches, feels his guts heave. Another bullet thunders past his head, but he doesn’t hear it, just feels the air tremble. Dust and concrete chips hit him in the face. His legs start to buckle, but he refuses to give in.
‘MOVE OR DIE. MOVE OR DIE.’
He feels a door, pushes, stumbles through, trips, hits the concrete again. Blood splashes across the floor, up the walls. He pulls up once more.
He’s on a roller coaster, at the park with Grandma. He’s four years old. Then he’s floating in space. No reference points.
He can see nothing.
He can hear nothing.
He senses the air tremble again.
He touches wood. Another door. It moves forward. He’s falling … and dies before he hits the ground.
Chapter 2
I HEARD THE crash from the other side of the room and for a second I thought one of the hired caterers had screwed up. But then a woman screamed and I was dashing across reception.
I caught a glimpse of my right-hand woman, Mary Clarke, spin on her heel. She’s a big, muscly girl but has the reaction time of Usain Bolt off the blocks.
I saw the blood first. A smear, then a dark pool spreading out across the marble. The man lay spread-eagled on the floor, face down, torn apart, gaping holes in his back, his right leg shattered, twisted obscenely under him. A hood over his head.
I crouched down as Justine Smith ran up.
Pulling a tissue from my pocket, I wrapped it around my fingers, turned the body over and tried to remove the hood, but it was tied fast. I glanced up to see Deputy Commissioner Thorogood.
“Jesus!” he said as he lowered beside me.
“Multiple gunshot wounds. Twice in the back, leg,” I said and tilted the body so Thorogood could study the ragged circles in the guy’s linen jacket.
Darlene, Private’s tech guru, squatted down close to the body. She’s usually in a lab coat over jeans, but tonight she was wearing a red cocktail dress that accentuated her incredible curves. She pulled on latex gloves, removed a sharp implement from her clutch purse. Leaning forward, she cut the ties of the hood and eased up the fabric.
“Holy Christ!” Thorogood exclaimed.
Chapter 3
HIS EYES HAD been gouged out. There were two red craters in their place. The skin was jagged, blood oozing. A gray bundle of nerves snaked from the left socket and stuck to the skin of the man’s cheek.
It was hard to tell for sure, but he looked like a young kid, maybe late teens, twenty tops. The rest of his face was smeared, his nose smashed to hell.
I heard Johnny Ishmah, the youngest of my team, behind me. I turned to him. “Johnny get everyone out.” Then I saw Mary. “Come with me.”
The Deputy Commissioner straightened and pulled out his cell as he walked away.
I heard him say “Inspector …” His boys would be here in minutes.
“Well, not your average gatecrasher,” I heard Darlene mumble as Mary and I headed for the door.
“Blood trail.” I flicked a glance at the floor just beyond the door.
“Passage ahead leads to the garage,” Mary responded.
There was a slew of blood across the concrete, up the walls. Picking our way round the puddles I leaned on the second door and we were out onto “Garage Level 1”. Plenty of blood still, oval droplets on the rough concrete. The sort of splashes someone makes when they are running and bleeding at the same time.
The poor kid had stopped here, blood had pooled into a patch about two feet wide that was rippling away toward a drain in the floor. The trail led off to the left. Three cars stood there, a Merc, a Prius and my black Spider. Tire marks close to the bend, more blood.
I bent down and picked up a shell casing, holding it in the tissue still in my hand.
“.357 Sig,” Mary said. She was ex-Military Police, knew a thing or two.
“Pros.”
“Must be cameras everywhere.” She glanced around.
“Small garage. There’s a guard at the gate. He has a security camera system.” I turned and led the way back. The road narrowed, a barrier twenty yards ahead. Next to that, a booth.
I could see immediately the place was hit. Glass everywhere, the guard slumped unconscious, a row of monitors an inch from his head. The cable to a hard drive dangling. Standard system … record the garage for twelve-hour rotations on a terabyte hard drive. Wipe it, start again.
“Took the hard drive,” Mary said nodding at the lead.
I crouched down beside the guard and lifted his head gently. He stirred, pulled back and went for his gun. That had gone too.
“Whoa buddy!” Mary exclaimed, palms up.
The guy recognized me. “Mr. Gisto.” He ran a hand over his forehead. “Holy shit …”
“Easy, pal.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Remember anything?”
He sighed. “Couple a guys in hoodies. It all happened so bloody quick …”
“Alright,” I said, turning to Mary. There was a sudden movement beyond the booth window. A cop in a power stance, finger poised to the trigger.
A second later Deputy Commissioner Thorogood appeared in the doorway, touched the officer’s arm. “Put it down, constable.”
It was then I saw the third guy, standing next to Thorogood. Middle build, five-ten, hard, lived-in face. I recognized him immediately and felt a jolt of painful memories. Covered it well. I knew he instantly recognized me, but he pretended he hadn’t. The devious son of a bitch.
Chapter 4
A COP CAR pulled up to the gate, tires screeching. Close behind, a van, “FORENSICS” on the side.
