The hotel had featured in a couple of travel articles in the UK and America, and had even been used for a photoshoot for Vogue, but so far the rich had not flocked to the Richmond. There had been a steady stream of tourists coming to enjoy the novelty of the place, but there hadn’t been a booking for any of its suites on the upper floors in over a month. The owners had wanted to get ahead of the times, but it seemed they’d gone a little too far a little too fast.

They were particularly concerned that they had no reservations for the OECD conference. Every other luxury hotel in Mayfair was fighting off booking requests, but the Richmond stood almost empty. The owners had no idea that Peterson had orchestrated this exact situation by removing the Richmond from the list of approved hotels MI5 had supplied to the conference’s attendees. So they were extremely relieved when they finally received a booking for one of their most expensive suites for the entire week of the conference from a Mr Devereux.

They had no idea who Mr Devereux was or who he worked for, but they didn’t care—he had money, and that was enough to make him important. Desperate to make a good impression, the front-of-house staff were told to cater to his every whim and accommodate all his peculiarities, such as checking in late on Sunday night, insisting no staff go up to the sixth floor or enter his suite without direct instruction from him, and bringing an unknown woman who he referred to unconvincingly as his niece into the hotel at nine o’clock on a Monday morning.

Peterson had chosen the Richmond out of convenience. It was close to both Leconfield House and Westminster Central Hall, where the majority of the OECD conference’s official events would be held. The Central Hall had been picked to add a bit of weight and theatricality to the conference’s proceedings. It had been the site of the first meeting of the inaugural General Assembly of the United Nations in 1946, and the OECD hoped to borrow some of its historical significance.

The Richmond was also near all the other hotels—the Dorchester, Claridge’s, Brown’s and the like—that had been booked out by visiting dignitaries. And by keeping it off MI5’s list Peterson could be sure he wouldn’t bump into anyone he didn’t plan on meeting, or worry about anyone listening in to his conversations. He’d even taken the precaution of having all Pipistrelle intelligence routed through GCHQ, so if any of his prospective buyers let slip about their meetings with him in their hotel rooms it would be too late by the time it got back to MI5.