“The key!” Jana snapped, pulling the Hawlen from beneath her jacket, raising the silenced barrel to the level of the man’s heart. “Now!”

Calmly, he glanced at the gun. “We don’t use keys,” he said, holding up a plastic card for Jana to see. His nails were perfectly manicured, coated with a thin layer of clear gloss. “I will have to program it for you.”

“Do it,” Jana told him, keeping the 9mm trained on his chest.

Charley put her ear to the bathroom door and listened with satisfaction to the sound of the shower running. She understood Leonora’s reluctance to leave the hotel, but she was starting to go stir crazy. If she didn’t get out and get some fresh air soon, she felt like she might hurt someone.

She wasn’t asking for much, just a quick run and a stop at the patisserie across Avenue George V for something other than the disappointing croissants the Queen Elizabeth served. Once Tesla tasted a real pain au chocolat, all would be forgiven.

Besides, it wasn’t like she was sneaking off. She’d left Leonora a note explaining where she’d gone and that she’d be back in an hour or so with breakfast. Still, she felt a twinge of guilt as she slipped into her running clothes and let herself out into the hallway.

The elevator was just outside the door of their room, but it was notoriously slow and creaky. More often than not she opted to take the stairs instead of waiting for it to creep upward. But for some unknown reason—lack of sleep affecting her brain, perhaps—she pushed the call button. Somewhere far below in the bowels of the building, the aged mechanism rattled to life.

The receptionist tapped the keyboard a few times, then swiped the card through the encryption device next to the computer before handing it to Jana.

“The room number?” she asked.

“Two nineteen,” he sneered.

“How many guests?”

“Two women. One older and Madame Rosewald.”

He was still sneering when Jana pulled the trigger.

Shoving the receptionist’s body out of sight behind the desk, Jana headed for the stairs, sprinting for the second-floor landing. As she stepped in the hallway, she heard the elevator door slide shut. An early riser, she thought testily. No doubt there would be others. She’d have to work quickly.

Methodically, she made her way down the corridor, checking the room numbers as she went: 215, 217. Stopping in front of 219, she paused to listen. She could hear the elevator laboring noisily downward. And inside the room, the faint whine of water running.

With her left hand, Jana slid the pass card into the electronic lock and watched the light change from red to green. Keeping the 9mm ready, she turned the brass handle and let herself inside. So two occupants: Charlotte Middleton and presumably some babysitter her father had brought in.