A little over forty minutes later Don reached the G-Tech complex under a hard afternoon sun, the upper floors bright against a pale sky and the service lanes empty of anything but heat shimmer off the cracked asphalt.
He slowed at the edge of the grounds and let his senses open, the day resolving into layered detail: the tick of cooling metal along the vents, the faint chemical scent of old coolant, the soft drag of warm air through the loading bays.
Footprints were present across the service apron toward the concealed seam of the lab entrance, a single set, weight settled unevenly on the outer edge of the sole.
Not heavy. Not tall.
Nothing in the spacing or the depth suggested a body that could meet him evenly if it came to that, and the thought settled him enough to move.
The entrance itself had not been forced. The seam sat flush, the dust along its lip undisturbed in the way a lockpick or a crowbar would have left it.
