Mexican Hat, Utah figured the rest of the country could do as it pleased. People in town went about their business unperturbed.
In their house off Kanan Dume Road, Nick removed his laptop from an unassuming backpack. With a hand from a few covert tools, he logged into the Hotel Bel-Air reservation system and in three minutes had blocked all access.
Then he cordoned off the hotel’s video surveillance archive. Later on, they could decide which files to delete.
It would be as if they had never checked in, had never set foot on the grounds of the hotel.
For all anyone knew, they had been cavorting up in Mexican Hat, Utah.
This made Nick feel something like an artist who paints over the first layer of work.
It was not his first sleight of hand with digital pentimento.
