The heavy metal doors of the Sunnyvale warehouse rattled as Quinn Harper pushed them open. She walked into the dim, humming space, dropping her leather messenger bag onto the steel desk of the command center.
"I have the audio files," Quinn said, pulling the digital tape recorder from her pocket. "It's three hours of raw shipping manifests. If you feed it into the Avalon database, we will have a complete map of Meridian's import routes by midnight."
Toby grabbed the recorder. "I'll start the upload script now."
Quinn sank into her chair, rubbing her temples. "Arthur Vance is a parasite. He made me alphabetize physical paper for six hours while he threw a rubber ball against a wall. Then he stole my supply chain pivot and presented it to the department head as his own."
"I know," Grayso
