Triple Cross （Alex Cross #30）
James Patterson
About the Author
James Patterson is one of the best-known and biggest-selling writers of all time. His books have sold in excess of 400 million copies worldwide. He is the author of some of the most popular series of the past two decades – the Alex Cross, Women’s Murder Club, Detective Michael Bennett and Private novels – and he has written many other number one bestsellers including non-fiction and stand-alone thrillers.
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 for young readers including the Middle School, Dog Diaries, Treasure Hunters and Max Einstein series. James has donated millions in grants to independent bookshops and has been the most borrowed author in UK libraries for the past thirteen years in a row. He lives in Florida with his family.
A list of titles by James Patterson appears at the back of this book
Why everyone loves James Patterson and Alex Cross
‘It’s no mystery why James Patterson is the world’s most popular thriller writer. Simply put: nobody does it better.’
Jeffery Deaver
‘No one gets this big without amazing natural storytelling talent – which is what Jim has, in spades. The Alex Cross series proves it.’
Lee Child
‘James Patterson is the gold standard by which all others are judged.’
Steve Berry
‘Alex Cross is one of the best-written heroes in American fiction.’
Lisa Scottoline
‘Twenty years after the first Alex Cross story, he has become one of the greatest fictional detectives of all time, a character for the ages.’
Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
‘Alex Cross is a legend.’
Harlan Coben
‘Patterson boils a scene down to the single, telling detail, the element that defines a character or moves a plot along. It’s what fires off the movie projector in the reader’s mind.’
Michael Connelly
James Patterson is The Boss. End of.’
Ian Rankin
PROLOGUE
ONE
SUZANNE LIU LIVED FOR days like this, days when her world seemed like a great game and the sweet smell of opportunity and cash hung in the air like lavender and sage.
In her late thirties, stylishly dressed, attractive, and very tall, Liu arrived at work in Lower Manhattan two hours before her crucial first appointment. She opened the door to a corner office with dramatic views of the Hudson River, stepped inside, shut the door, and paused a moment to take it all in.
On the inner wall to Liu’s left hung her diploma from Yale and a photograph of herself playing Lady Macbeth in her first and only year in the graduate program at that university’s fabled drama school. She did not give them a glance.
Her attention was drawn instead to the wall to her immediate right and three framed jackets of books by mega-bestselling nonfiction writer Thomas Tull.
Liu took a step closer to the framed jacket of Tull’s most recent work, Doctor’s Orders, which had been on the bestseller list for sixty-three weeks and showed no sign of fading anytime soon.
Liu studied Tull’s author photo, and despite herself, she felt her breath and heart quicken. God, he was handsome and photogenic. His charisma seemed to jump out at you.
In his early forties, with chiseled facial features and built like a brick, Tull sported an unruly shock of sandy-brown hair. He also had piercing gray-blue eyes and a smile so easy and dazzling, it had played a big part in attracting female readers. Tull’s natural good looks tended to disarm people, and Liu could not afford to be disarmed.
Not today. Not with so much at stake. My entire career, really.
That last thought almost triggered a panic attack, so Liu went quickly to her desk and put down her purse, her grande latte, and the canvas bag she used to carry manuscripts. She sat and forced herself to close her eyes and breathe deeply.
After fifteen minutes of meditating, Liu had calmed enough to focus on her intention for how the day would go.
“I made Thomas Tull,” she muttered to herself. “He’s mine. Tull is still mine. And no one is taking him from me.”
Liu said it five times before opening her eyes and smiling. This was her day. She could feel it in her bones.
She took out a legal pad, and for the next hour, the editor in chief of Alabaster Publishing sipped her latte and wrote out four negotiating scenarios, every one of them involving a ridiculous number. That was what it was going to take, wasn’t it? A ridiculous number. Liu was sure of that. There was no way around a ridiculous number, given Tull’s repeated monstrous successes. And he’d made it clear he would entertain other offers.
How could he not?
At eight fifteen, Bill Hardaway, the founder and publisher of Alabaster, knocked on her door and entered.
“Ready for battle?” Hardaway asked as he took a seat opposite her.
“Always, Bill,” Liu said. “When have I not been a fighter?”
“Just don’t bankrupt us, Suzanne.”
Hardaway was in his early fifties and people tended to underestimate him because he dressed like a stodgy college professor. But while other publishing firms crashed and burned around him, he had managed to build a thriving company. Hardaway had a keen understanding of what books could touch a nerve and reach blockbuster status, but he also ran a tight ship when it came to expenses.
“What’s our top number?” she asked.
Hardaway shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet. But we can’t afford to lose him.”
“We won’t, Bill,” she said. “I promise you that.”
TWO
BILL HARDAWAY STOOD UP. “I’m holding you to that promise, Suzanne. Sorry I can’t be here for all the horse-trading. Cynthia’s got tests and I need to be there.”
Hardaway’s third wife was carrying twins. She was in her second trimester, and the pregnancy was considered high risk.
“Of course, Bill,” Liu said. “And don’t worry. I’ve got everything under control. You just do what you need to do, and we’ll celebrate with champagne when you get back.”
Hardaway left and she tried to return her focus to her legal pad. Fifteen minutes later, Liu was interrupted by another knock at the door.
Thomas Tull stuck his head in and threw a thousand-watt smile at her. “How’s my favorite editor?” he asked in a teasing voice.
Feeling a little rattled, Liu got to her feet. “You’re forty minutes early, Thomas.”
“Because I knew you’d be here already, and as you might imagine, my day’s full as well,” Tull said. He came over to her, took her hands, and blew a Euro-kiss past each cheek. “You look stunning as always, Suzanne.”
Liu tried to ignore the little thrill that went through her and said, “And you’re looking better than ever. How often do you bleach those teeth?”
He grinned. “No need. Good genes.”
“Something to drink?” she asked as they both sat down.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Bill going to join us?”
“Cynthia’s going in for tests. He left me to deal with you.”
Tull laughed. “Okay, then. As soon as we finish here, I’ll e-mail you a detailed proposal for the next book. But it’s about the Family Man murders going on down in the Washington, DC, area.”