The account number looked ordinary.
That was what made it very dangerous.
Magnus stared at the screen inside the Crisis Operations Room long after everyone else had gone silent.
Rows of transactions scrolled past.
Transfers.
Withdrawals.
Shell companies.
Insurance funds.
Construction grants.
None of it looked unusual by itself.
Together, however, they formed a pattern.
And Magnus loved patterns.
"It's hiding."
Hayes looked up from across the room.
"The account?"
Magnus nodded.
"No."
His fingers continued moving across the keyboard. Very fast. The fingers keep moving. "The owner."
Three hours had passed since Dorian revealed the truth about the Foundation.
Nobody had gone home. Nobody has rested
Nobody had slept.
The room smelled of coffee and exhaustion.
Sebastian stood behind Magnus's chair.
"What did you find?"
Magnus enlarged a transaction.
Then another.
Then another.
