Private Oz by James Patterson Read Free Book Online Page A

elevator closed on Micky Stevens and Hemi.
    “Seems genuinely scared, boss.”
    We walked back into reception and saw Colette on the phone. She did well to disguise the fact that she was telling a friend about what had just happened. I frowned and she quickly hung up.
    Johnny settled himself back into the chair he’d been in before the rock star visitation. I sat behind my desk, put my feet up on the walnut.
    “Refresh my memory,” I said. “I was never a big fan. He was in Fun Park, right? Before he went solo and became a massive star.”
    “Yeah, granddad,” Johnny replied with a grin.
    “I’m more a Nirvana and Chili Peppers kinda guy.”
    “Fair enough. Fun Park were big. Three No. 1 singles, a hit album. They’ve just reformed without Micky.”
    “But his solo career eclipsed his old band, right?”
    “Definitely. He is … was, huge.”
    “Was?”
    “Gone off a bit recently. Last hit was well over a year ago.”
    “Which is an eternity when most of your fans are five- or six-year-olds!”
    Johnny laughed. “A bit of an exaggeration!”
    “Okay,” I said suddenly serious. “Could he just be delusional? He obviously has issues.”
    “I guess we have to take him seriously,” Johnny offered.
    “We do? Why?” I paused a beat. “Look, okay. I get it. He’s Micky Stevens … megastar and, I dunno, he seems like a pretty nice guy. But do we believe him?”
    “We obviously need to know a lot more about his manager.”
    “Alright,” I said firmly and lowered my legs from the table. “Let’s take Micky seriously – at least until we know otherwise.”
    Johnny seemed to be lost in thought.
    “I reckon this one’s for you, Johnny.”
    “Me? On my own?”
    “Most definitely. Right up your alley.”
    He gulped. “Okay, boss … well … thanks … I guess!”

Chapter 31
    Twenty-four Hours Ago.
    GEOFF HEWES HAD told himself years ago that he should never show that he was impressed by anything, especially rich men and their big houses. Most especially when those rich men in big houses were the ones he did business with. But whenever he went to Al Loretto’s palatial home in Point Piper it was a struggle.
    A real English butler led him through to a vast conservatory at the back of the house. It overlooked a fifty-yard pool surrounded by palm trees. From each end six-foot-long gold-plated dolphins spewed water, a giant marble mermaid rose up on a plinth in the center of the pool. Loretto was sitting in one of a pair of vast wicker chairs at the far end of the glass-walled chamber. He was wearing a silver colored silk robe and reading the Sydney Morning Herald . The butler retreated leaving Geoff standing a couple of yards from Loretto. Aside from the water-vomiting dolphins, the room was silent.
    Loretto lowered the paper saying nothing, forcing Geoff to speak first.
    “You wanted a chat, Al.”
    “Not happy, Geoffrey. Really not happy.”
    Geoff flicked a glance at the other wicker chair. Loretto saw the gesture and ignored it.
    “May I?” Geoff asked and pointed to the seat.
    “No, you may not.”
    “Okay,” Geoff drawled. “What’s up, Al?”
    “What’s up Al?” Loretto mimicked, putting on a silly voice. “I’ll tell you what’s fucking up, Geoffrey. You are lucky I’m even talking to you. I should have just had you popped in the head.” And he made the appropriate gesture with his fingers at his left temple.
    Geoff knew what he was talking about. He’d known what this was about when he received the call from Al Loretto’s assistant’s assistant that afternoon.
    Loretto was out of the chair, his nose a foot from Geoff’s. “Don’t fuck with me.” He punctuated each word with a finger poke to Geoff’s shoulder. By the third one, it hurt, but Hewes couldn’t show it. “You didn’t take the cameras out my brothels.”
    Geoff took a deep breath, feeling sweat bleed from his pores.
    “I wanted to talk to you …”
    “There’s nothing … got that? Nothing to talk about,