The Sunnyvale warehouse was no longer completely silent. The heavy metal roll-up doors were shut, trapping the thick afternoon heat inside, but the air was now filled with the sharp, rhythmic sound of chalk hitting a blackboard.
Grayson pushed open the small side door and stepped onto the concrete floor.
Toby followed closely behind, carrying a stack of manila folders containing the newly printed term sheets for their startup acquisitions.
In the center of the vast, empty room, Quinn Harper stood before a massive, wheeled chalkboard she had apparently dragged out of the administrative office next door. She had taken off her black blazer, draping it over one of the plastic chairs. The sleeves of her white blouse were rolled up to her elbows.
She was covered in chalk dust.
The board was
