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Hubert Tézenas

    Rituel
    Otages de la peur
    • Robert Crais is the real thing: a writer who keeps topping himself. Last year, after eight popular books featuring private eye Elvis Cole (including L.A. Requiem and Voodoo River), he produced Demolition Angel, his first standalone suspense novel. Its complex, multidimensional hero was a damaged cop haunted by her past failures. It worked in that book, and it works even better in this one.Jeff Talley, the police chief in a small Southern California town, still has nightmares about the young hostage who died when he made the wrong call in his previous job as a negotiator for an LAPD SWAT team. Now, three smalltime punks go on the run after a grocery store robbery and killing in Talley's town. Soon his deputies have surrounded the house where the inept robbers have taken Walter Smith and his two children hostage, and Talley's back in his worst dream again: until the county sheriff's full-fledged SWAT team arrives and takes over, he has to negotiate for their lives.Crais keeps the point of view moving from Talley to the punks to the hostages as the situation unfolds in the house and on the ground. Then he ratchets up the dramatic tension: there's something in Walter Smith's house that a ruthless Mob boss wants, and he'll sacrifice anyone to get it--which puts Talley's own family in danger.

      Otages de la peur
    • Rituel

      • 505pages
      • 18 heures de lecture
      3,9(432)Évaluer

      Les fonds vaseux du port de Bristol révèlent parfois de lugubres trésors. La prise du sergent « Flea » Marley, chef-plongeuse de la police locale, aurait de quoi étonner le pêcheur le plus averti. Cette main, tranchée net, n’est assurément pas le vestige d’un noyé...Récemment muté de Londres, le commissaire Jack Caffery ne sait quoi en penser. Il n’y pense d’ailleurs qu’à regret, trop occupé qu’il est à traquer ses vieux démons. Confusément, il partage avec Flea, obsédée elle aussi par un deuil impossible, une entêtante fascination pour la mort. Tous deux contemplent le fond, avec l’envie d’y sombrer. À jamais. Il n’y a guère que cette main pour les en empêcher. Cette main et ce souffle de magie noire, imprégné de superstitions africaines, qui semblent saisir d’effroi la paisible ville de Bristol...

      Rituel