Private Princess

Chapter 115

Early morning was a quiet time in the Shangri-La, customers of the five-star hotel asleep in their comfortable beds, or admiring panoramic views from their rooms over coffee. There were only a small number of people in the hotel’s reception, an international collection of the establishment’s workers, and all were pressed up against the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows, their fearful eyes zoned in to the pandemonium on London Bridge below, where sirens wailed and lights flashed, dozens of police officers swarming about the bridge like ants on a log.

“I can see bodies,” a sharp-eyed receptionist gulped.

“Is it a terrorist attack?” one of the breakfast chefs asked, logging into Twitter.

“I hope not,” the duty manager prayed. The sound of the elevator doors pinging open behind them caused the group to turn. They stood frozen as they saw an armed police officer emerging, the body of the hotel’s doorman crumpled at his feet.