Pittsburgh mornings always had a lingering smell of coal smoke.
Joe Miller sat in an unmarked black Chevrolet, the coffee in his hand long since gone cold.
He stared at the shop across the street, the one with the "Mutual Aid Alliance Chartered Pharmacy" sign. A laptop rested on his knees, its screen filled with dense spreadsheets.
This was the result of his data tracking.
The pickup truck that had overturned on Interstate 79, the scattered boxes of NovoRapid insulin—every single package had a unique tracking code.
Joe Miller had spent two days following the clues, and they had led him to the source.
The source was right here.
Pittsburgh's 11th District, a typical neighborhood—a mix of blue-collar workers and retirees.
The data on his screen showed a strange anomaly.
In the past month, this pharmacy's insulin sales had skyrocketed by five hundred percent.
The list of buyers was displayed on the right side of the screen:
