to the hotel’s electronic records. Lydia learned seven helicopters had landed on its property in the past ten days. Some names were recognizable. Movie stars, government figures, even one member of the Swedish royal family. Two landings were names she didn’t know. Richard Flankinhauff had arrived in his private helicopter from a yacht anchored six miles offshore. Records indicated Flankinhauff had rented four poolside villas for him, his wife, their adult son, three bullmastiffs, and various support staff.
The other potential alias Allie could have used was Meredith Sinnow. The hotel’s files showed Meredith had requested a month’s stay in the Eaton Square Suite, along with an adjoining room for her nurse. The hotel manager had added an electronic note urging everyone to treat Meredith with special care. Apparently she was a frail seventy-three-year-old widow who’d been coming to the same suite every other year since her honeymoon fifty years earlier. This would be her first visit without her husband.
Lydia shifted tactics. Allie had a large criminal enterprise to run. She also was the type of woman who relished pampering herself. She might be looking to build a relationship with her niece, but Lydia didn’t think Allie was up to the challenge of spending every waking moment with a seven-year-old. She scrolled through the hotel’s database until she found the nanny schedule.
Nine requests for nannies had come in over the past two weeks. Lydia ignored requests for sitters for families with multiple children. That eliminated seven. Of the two remaining, one sought daily care for a three-year-old named Jeremy. The records showed Jeremy had an allergy to peanuts and was lactose intolerant. Jeremy’s parents sought a nanny with experience in dealing with “spirited and willful youngsters.”
The other request had come in nine days earlier. It was identified by a reference number and sought an energetic and intelligent female nanny to care for what was described as “a bright and creative seven-year-old.” Care was required for eight hours daily. The guest demanded a signed confidentiality agreement and stressed the need for “utter and complete discretion.” The hotel had complied and assigned only an identification number. A young woman named Constance had been dispatched. Lydia blinked when she saw the hourly amount Constance was paid.
But that would be no obstacle for Allie.
The hotel required daily notes from its nannies. Lydia read Constance’s daily electronic entries. They were unremarkable. Trips to the gift shop, one to a local museum. Bedtime routines. Preferences for games and stories. Constance was following the mandate to be discreet, using only pronouns and ID numbers when referring to her work.
Until her last entry.
Constance had gotten fired.
Guest asked me to take charge to rear of suite for bathing and bedtime routine. Requested charge be kept away from guest until summoned. Hadley got away from me and rushed in to greet her mother. Guest demanded I be replaced.
Hadley.
In her disappointment, anger, or frustration, Constance had made one simple slip. She had let her guard down long enough that her fingers inadvertently typed the name of her charge. Since the record was still in the system, Lydia assumed the error was so small the manager overseeing the assignment hadn’t thought to erase the direct, named reference to the child in Constance’s care.
It was enough.
Lydia knew where Allie and Hadley were. At least where they had been yesterday. She looped back. Using the ID number the hotel had assigned Allie, she accessed the hotel’s room service orders and learned that a chef was assigned to Allie’s five-room terraced suite. A list of specific menus for Allie’s entire stay was available.
Including this morning’s.
Juice, yogurt, and fruit had been served on the terrace at eight thirty local time. A lunch of swordfish, rice, and cake was scheduled for two o’clock this
The other potential alias Allie could have used was Meredith Sinnow. The hotel’s files showed Meredith had requested a month’s stay in the Eaton Square Suite, along with an adjoining room for her nurse. The hotel manager had added an electronic note urging everyone to treat Meredith with special care. Apparently she was a frail seventy-three-year-old widow who’d been coming to the same suite every other year since her honeymoon fifty years earlier. This would be her first visit without her husband.
Lydia shifted tactics. Allie had a large criminal enterprise to run. She also was the type of woman who relished pampering herself. She might be looking to build a relationship with her niece, but Lydia didn’t think Allie was up to the challenge of spending every waking moment with a seven-year-old. She scrolled through the hotel’s database until she found the nanny schedule.
Nine requests for nannies had come in over the past two weeks. Lydia ignored requests for sitters for families with multiple children. That eliminated seven. Of the two remaining, one sought daily care for a three-year-old named Jeremy. The records showed Jeremy had an allergy to peanuts and was lactose intolerant. Jeremy’s parents sought a nanny with experience in dealing with “spirited and willful youngsters.”
The other request had come in nine days earlier. It was identified by a reference number and sought an energetic and intelligent female nanny to care for what was described as “a bright and creative seven-year-old.” Care was required for eight hours daily. The guest demanded a signed confidentiality agreement and stressed the need for “utter and complete discretion.” The hotel had complied and assigned only an identification number. A young woman named Constance had been dispatched. Lydia blinked when she saw the hourly amount Constance was paid.
But that would be no obstacle for Allie.
The hotel required daily notes from its nannies. Lydia read Constance’s daily electronic entries. They were unremarkable. Trips to the gift shop, one to a local museum. Bedtime routines. Preferences for games and stories. Constance was following the mandate to be discreet, using only pronouns and ID numbers when referring to her work.
Until her last entry.
Constance had gotten fired.
Guest asked me to take charge to rear of suite for bathing and bedtime routine. Requested charge be kept away from guest until summoned. Hadley got away from me and rushed in to greet her mother. Guest demanded I be replaced.
Hadley.
In her disappointment, anger, or frustration, Constance had made one simple slip. She had let her guard down long enough that her fingers inadvertently typed the name of her charge. Since the record was still in the system, Lydia assumed the error was so small the manager overseeing the assignment hadn’t thought to erase the direct, named reference to the child in Constance’s care.
It was enough.
Lydia knew where Allie and Hadley were. At least where they had been yesterday. She looped back. Using the ID number the hotel had assigned Allie, she accessed the hotel’s room service orders and learned that a chef was assigned to Allie’s five-room terraced suite. A list of specific menus for Allie’s entire stay was available.
Including this morning’s.
Juice, yogurt, and fruit had been served on the terrace at eight thirty local time. A lunch of swordfish, rice, and cake was scheduled for two o’clock this
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