When I hurry into Rupert’s office, Amalie wears the biggest smile at her spot in front of the laptop. She scans and points at the screen while she talks to Jacinta at her shoulder. “Lara! We did it! Len figured it out!”
“Are you serious?” I rush around the desk and bend to look at the screen. Len is across the hall on his phone, pacing the conference room.
“He said he had an idea, so he typed in a few things, and voilà! One of them worked!”
“What was it?” I ask.
“I dunno. His phone rang and he went out to talk while we opened the files. There’s a ton of stuff in here. Looks like all research—”
“It’s what my brother wants,” Jacinta says. “Everything Watts had on Sinaloa, Jalisco, Guadalajara, even Colombia’s cartel ops from the late 1980s onward under Escobar, stuff on Aguado, files fr
