They pulled into an abandoned gas station two miles outside Larkspur to patch up the injured agent and figure out their next move. Reyes worked on the man's shoulder wound by flashlight while Priya sat on the truck's tailgate, the data drive plugged into her laptop, scrolling through files that made her jaw tighten more with every page.
"You're going to want to see this," she said.
Marcus climbed up beside her. "What is it?"
"Financial records. Wire transfers, shell companies, the works." She scrolled to a summary page, names and numbers laid out in a clean spreadsheet that looked almost boring for what it represented. "This isn't one guy with a grudge and a lab. This is funded. Heavily."
"Funded by who?"
Priya pointed at a column of corporate names, most of them meaningless to Marcus
