Page 35 of Lorenzo

The hallway curves gently. Framed abstract prints hang between the doors. Small cameras are mounted near each end of the corridor, positioned to capture anyone entering or leaving the elevator area.

My destination is halfway down.

At the far end of the corridor, a housekeeping cart sits outside an open room. A woman in a gray uniform is replacing towels inside.

I keep walking.

The housekeeper glances out as I pass, then disappears into the room again.

Room 1519 is two doors beyond the cart.

I do not look at it as I go by.

I continue to the end of the corridor, stop beside a framed print, and take out my phone as though I have received a message. The dark glass covering the artwork gives me a narrow reflection of the hallway behind me.

The housekeeper steps out, reaches into her cart, and carries a clean set of sheets inside.

The room door remains propped open.

She has at least a few minutes left in that room.

Probably less.

I turn and walk back at the same easy pace.

This hotel uses a numerical keypad rather than a keycard reader. More expensive hotels like to call that added security, as though replacing one vulnerable system with another changes much.

I stop in front of the door and open my handbag.

The tool I remove fits in my palm and looks harmless enough to pass for an oversized battery pack.

I press it against the lock and wake the small screen.

A thin line moves across the display while the device reads what the keypad gives away. I keep my body angled toward the door, shielding my hands from the camera at the far end of the hall.

To anyone else, it looks like I'm just entering numbers into the keypad.

Behind me, something thumps inside the room the housekeeper is servicing.

I glance toward the reflection in the nearest frame.

No movement in the hallway.

The device vibrates once.

The first set of numbers appears.

Wrong.

I reset it and try again.

The housekeeper begins humming under her breath, faint but audible through the open door.

My screen changes.

Four digits.

I enter them.