She forced herself to look outside; the street was empty. After speaking to Xavi, she’d checked out the first two warehouses on the list. Four had been right—from a hundred feet in the air, she could see nothing remained, autonomous diggers having recycled the warehouses into a series of metal and concrete cubes. Those building sites had been scraped clean to leave windswept blocks of land. The cover-up was thorough, but they hadn’t got to the third site yet; her Hopper sat opposite its chain-link perimeter fence. A row of powered-down yellow diggers were lined up by the curb. This area was zoned for industrial use, which translated to bare plots of land surrounded by autonomous sentries, but the warehouse appeared new. Its blue-gray siding had the usual layer of city filth, carbon rain, and pigeon mess, but no graffiti or UV fading marked the plastic.