Steeplechase, p.1
Steeplechase, page 1
Dear Reader,
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I hope you enjoy Steeplechase.
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James Patterson
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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2017 by James Patterson
Cover design by Kapo Ng; photograph by Shutterstock Images
Cover copyright © 2017 Hachette Book Group, Inc.
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ISBN 978-0-316-43885-8
Table of Contents
Cover
Letter from James Patterson
Title Page
Copyright
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
About the Authors
BookShots.com
Newsletter
Chapter 1
Coney Island, 1907
“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Steeplechase Park, where cares and woes vanish! Where the fleeting pleasure of the moment is all that matters! Where anything you can dream can be yours…and all for a nickel!”
The barker’s voice boomed but could barely be heard above the crowd’s din. A perfect early summer day had lured the masses from the nearby New York City boroughs to Coney Island. From families to felons, everyone came to see the wonders of the famed “poor man’s Riviera.”
Moving through the colorful and excited crowd, Jake Corrigan walked with his usual nonchalance. A tall man with sharp features and blue eyes that could go from sparkling to ice in the space of a wisecrack, he had the look of a guy who was always up to something. At the moment, he wore an expression of amusement; he never tired of seeing how much people enjoyed a day away from their usual routines. The beaming faces hungrily took in the park’s many attractions: the tunnel of love, the loop-the-loop, and the Tickler.
Though he moved slowly, Corrigan was stalking prey. Just ahead of him, a squat, nervous-looking guy sporting three days’ growth of beard and a soiled suit was moving at a good clip. And bizarrely, he was pushing a bright-pink baby carriage.
“Sharky Moon,” Corrigan muttered to himself. “Somehow I just don’t see you as father of the year.”
Stepping up his pace, Corrigan glanced to the side at three men huddled over a table near a refreshment counter. Keeping Moon within his line of sight, Corrigan made a quick detour to his right and kicked over the table, sending the players’ cards—and their ante—up and over the boardwalk.
“Against the law, gents,” Corrigan said, grinning and flashing his security badge. “Read the park rules.”
Ahead, Moon picked up his pace and wheeled the carriage around a stern-faced preacher who was trying to get the crowd’s attention.
“Go back! Turn away from this immorality! This place is Sodom by the Sea!”
“Why the hell you think we’re here, fodder?” Moon cracked. “’Scuse da language.”
Moon slowed down as he joined a crowd that had gathered at the foot of a wide pool. Everyone looked up at a huge wooden tower that sat in the water. From its top, four steep slides descended into the pool depths.
Corrigan slowed to take in the new attraction. Squinting upward, he spied a fair-haired woman inside the tower, looking down. She anxiously surveyed the crowd from above and then glanced at Corrigan.
“Hey, it’s that strawberry blonde I keep seein’! What’s she doing up there?” Corrigan mused to himself as he smoothed back his jet-black hair and gave his default wise-guy smile.
Rolling her eyes, the woman vanished back into the tower.
Corrigan shrugged. “May you one day be in distress, fair damsel.”
Glancing back around, he spotted Moon talking to an obviously well-to-do young couple, perfectly outfitted in parasols and patent leather. The woman was looking nervously down into the carriage.
“Gonna guess that Uncle Sharky ain’t the babysitter,” Corrigan muttered as he approached.
A trumpet suddenly pealed at the tower base and a top-hatted man stepped grandly out onto a raised platform. “Ladies and gentlemen! Didya know that the hot dog was invented right here at Coney Island?” he enthused. “It’s true! And didya know that Kid Lavigne and Gentleman Jim Corbett’ll both be fightin’ here tomorrow night? It’s true!”
The crowd clearly didn’t give a damn, so the barker tried again by gesturing to two well-dressed men who stood to the side. “And tonight, our beloved park owner, Mr. George Tilyou, and our manager, Mr. Nathan Caps, are presenting the greatest thrill yet seen in this or any park!”
Tilyou nervously patted his push broom mustache as he bowed to the crowd, and then turned and nodded toward Caps, an elegant-looking man with almost blindingly white hair.
“It’s a never-before-experienced spectacle, folks: the Water Chutes!”
The puzzled crowd glanced at the wooden slides down which steady streams of water were rushing. Corrigan looked around and smirked. “Unless Teddy Roosevelt himself comes shooting down that slide, this attraction is a bust.”
The barker dramatically played his last card: “If you stay to witness this terrifyingly dangerous feat, the management will not assume responsibility for your safety. If you have any fears, you have sixty seconds to exit.…”
The audience was baited but still undecided when suddenly an earsplitting cry pierced the afternoon air.
“RAAH-HAAAAAA!”
An instant hush fell. Everyone looked around, wondering where the sound had come from and just what the hell it was.
“RAAH-HAAAAAA!”
Once again, even louder, the cry rang out over the park—this time clearly from the top of the tower. It was followed by a thunderous stomping sound that shook the tower from top to bottom and caused a heavy plank to fall from above. It landed with a gigantic splash, dousing a good portion of the crowd.
“You now have twenty seconds to exit.…”
Chapter 2
Atop the tower, Katie Silver nervously paced a darkened enclosure while an extremely tall black man watched her.
“It isn’t looking good, Africa. They just don’t know what’s in store for them.”
The solemn man nodded and said, “Bahati nzuri, miss.”
“If I can’t even pronounce your real name, Africa, how do you think I’m going to suddenly understand Swahili?” Katie asked irritably.
She anxiously looked down for a signal from the barker. Her bright-green eyes flashed with annoyance at the delay and she toyed with a button on her cropped jacket top. Her suit and long skirt were stylish yet suggested a woman who was too busy to worry much about how she looked—and attractive enough to not have to worry.
“Sorry, Africa. I’m beginning to think this idea of mine is as crazy as everyone said it was.…”
“You say this every time, Miss Silver,” said Africa, smiling. “But the people love your work best of all.”
“Not that they know it’s mine—or would even believe that a woman could design park attractions,” she sighed.
At that, the barker finally looked up at Katie and gave her a signal.
Katie smiled tightly at Africa and said, “It’s time for our girls. Good luck, ladies.…”
Down below, Corrigan moved through the now transfixed crowd toward Moon, who was speaking emphatically with the young couple.
Suddenly, the animal cry roared through the air once again…followed by utter silence. The audience held its breath for a beat and then gasped in amazement as four huge, lumbering elephants appeared at the top of the tower. They wavered a moment and then, following some firm nudging from Katie and Africa, stepped onto flat-bottomed boats that were poised on the slides.
Corrigan gaped along with the rest and then smiled. “Aha! I think I know who came up with the hotel idea! My strawberry blonde seems to have beauty and brains.”
The great beasts paused, clearly frightened. Then, in almost perfect unison, the boats began sliding down the chutes. The mammoth creatures reared their trunks in either joy or terror—or that mixture of the two that every child feels when they go on a ride.
The astonished crowd leapt back as the elephant-weighted boats splashed into the pool and sent sprays of water coursing in every direction. Thunderous applause rang through the audience, causing the elephants to once again utter piercing cries, this time in seeming celebration of their feat.
“It worked!” Katie jumped up and down. “They loved it, Africa. They loved it! Look at their faces.”
Africa gave Katie an amused nod. Tilyou and Caps both doffed their hats and waved them in Katie’s direction, to which she responded with a modest curtsy. Bursting with pride, she ran to look out again over the happy crowd. Still grinning up at her, Corrigan elaborately tipped his hat to her success. Buoyed by the crowd’s reaction, Katie gave him a daring wink and a shrug, as if to say, “Ah, it was nothing.” As Corrigan laughed appreciatively, she bolted back out of sight.
Suddenly remembering his mission, Corrigan put a hand on Moon’s shoulder, causing the grimy goon to jump out of his skin.
“Mr. Moon! Displaying a new diaper line for these fine people?”
The couple exchanged worried looks and backed away slightly.
“Corrigan! I ain’t doin’ nothing,” Moon said, tittering nervously. “Just here to meet wit’ my—my niece!”
Corrigan looked from him to the elegant young woman, and then down at the baby.
“Hmm. I’m not seeing any resemblance any way you look at this. Are you peddling that baby?”
Flushed, the husband stepped forward. “Look here. We didn’t buy anything. This—this is our baby.”
“No. It belongs to some poor mother in Hell’s Kitchen!” Corrigan all but shouted. “What did you think: that it just popped out of a baby hatchery in Pleasantville?”
The young woman paled. “We didn’t know! We just so badly want—”
As she burst into tears, her husband pulled her to him. Moon tried to use the distraction to start his getaway, but Corrigan grabbed him.
“No kinky moves, Moon. You run, I’ll catch you.”
Moon glanced over at the young couple and gave them a resigned look. Corrigan relaxed his grip and suddenly—as if on cue—Moon and the couple dashed off in opposite directions. Startled, Corrigan yanked out his gun and pointed it at Moon, but the squat man darted into the crowd.
Corrigan watched the young couple run for their lives until he could no longer see them. Then he looked down into the carriage. The baby opened its eyes and gave him a twinkling smile.
“Don’t,” Corrigan warned. “That doesn’t work on me.”
The baby laughed and reached for Corrigan’s hand, which was still holding the gun. Sighing deeply, Corrigan stashed the pistol and reached into the carriage.
“What are you so happy about? You’re an orphan now, alone in the world.”
The baby looked excitedly around the park.
Smiling, Corrigan turned the baby to face the glittering lights and bustling people and clanging rides.
“I know, I feel the same way. Steeplechase Park: where anything you can dream can be yours…and all for a nickel!” He turned the infant around carefully. “But watch yourself, kiddo. Dreams can turn into nightmares.…”
Chapter 3
Coney Island, 2017
Katie Silver jolted awake. She looked around her dismal room: a dingy hovel with mismatched furniture and threadbare carpeting. She tried to shake her head clear and remembered the dwelling’s sole redeeming feature: a soothing ocean view.
She pulled herself out of bed and went over to the window; unfortunately, the lulling waves were no balm for her pounding head. Blinking her lettuce-green, red-rimmed eyes, Katie wondered when she had fallen asleep. More importantly, what the hell have I been dreaming? she asked herself with a glance at the empty shot glass on her nightstand.
Suddenly, she cocked her head to the side.
“Elephants? On waterslides? Wow. That is just…weird.”
Vigorously shaking her head, she caught a glimpse of an empty Scotch bottle on the floor.
Katie Alicia Silver, you really need to cut back, girl.
She had been living in this shabby boardinghouse for over three years. For the thousandth time, she asked herself why she didn’t get a normal apartment like a normal single woman of thirty-two. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford it. And there certainly weren’t any amenities at the Surf Shack, which had been opened by a hippie couple in 1967. They were still the managers, and neither they nor their property had undergone a single change in fifty years. Katie told herself that it was all about the house being conveniently located near her job at Steeplechase Park. Also, she reminded herself, it wasn’t as if she socialized a lot. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time someone else had been in her room.
She grabbed a towel and her makeup bag and opened the door to the hallway. No one else was around. The regulars were either sleeping it off or had yet to come in from their night out.
“The Ritz this is definitely not,” Katie muttered. “I really could use a lifestyle upgrade.…”
She dragged herself to the community bathroom and ruefully looked in the mirror. She was grateful for the many handprint smudges that blurred her reflection.
Katie loudly cleared her throat and spit into the sink. After washing the effects of sleep and Scotch off her face, she grabbed for her towel. Suddenly, she heard a deep, muffled grunt. She spun toward the closed door of the toilet stall. After a beat of silence, the grunt sounded again, this time with more urgency. Reaching slowly into her makeup bag, Katie silently pulled something out: a sleek semiautomatic pistol.
Taking the gun in both hands, she assumed a stance in front of the door and then kicked it, hard.
“Okay, perv. You’ve had your fun. Now come out with your hands—and your pants—up!”
She paused, but there was no sound or movement from inside the john. She gave the door another kick.
“Hey, I’m talking to you!”
Finally, from inside the stall came a muffled voice. “Ah, kinda busy in here, darlin’. And no, I don’t get off on listenin’ to some chick give her hangover a makeover.”
Katie sighed and put down her gun.
“Well, other people have to use this outhouse, too, pal. There’s a fifteen-minute time limit.”
“Bill me for overtime. Meanwhile, go behind the back stairs like everyone else.”
Katie sagged against the counter with resigned disgust. She stared grimly into the mirror.
You gotta make some changes, Silver. Consider this a warning.…
Chapter 4
“Let’s see yer ticket. Don’t hold up the line, bud.”
The attendant’s craggy face was almost as coarse as the rasp in his voice. He glared at the athletic teen who was staring excitedly up at the soaring height of the structure: the Cyclone, the rare all-wood roller coaster.
Tom reached into his pocket and fumbled around. He tried another pocket, and then another. He turned to his heavily made-up girlfriend, who sported bleached blond hair.
“Hey, Jen, where’s my ticket?”
“I give up, Tom,” she said with a bored sigh. “Where?”
“You must have it, babe,” he insisted. “Didn’t I give it to you?”
“Have you given me your ticket on any of the fifty-five rides we’ve been on today?” Jen asked with elaborate exasperation. “Let’s just go. I’m totally over this shit.”
