Page 3 of Rescuing Mia

I navigate through his files, my heart pounding. I feel like an intruder, but he needs to know about what’s been happening. I locate detailed records of every deuterium shipment for the past year, and one file catches my eye: logs of access to the supply locker, along with an unfamiliar employee ID. I cross-reference it with our employee database, and it traces back to a department labeled ??.

I’ve never heard of them, and when I search for that department, I come up empty. It simply doesn’t exist.

My pulse quickens, and my mind races with all kinds of scenarios. None of which are good. Who would need so much deuterium? There’s only one reason, and it’s not for anything good. Digging deeper, I find something that makes my blood run cold. The name on all the supply drops?

It’s not Dr. Xiang’s.

It’s mine.

Chapter Three

MIA

My signature is everywhere,implicating me in every unauthorized access and missing shipment.

And that’s not the worst part.

I stare at the screen as a wave of nausea and betrayal rolls through me. Dr. Xiang, my mentor, has not only been using my name, but there’s an email string between him and this unidentified employee ID, with dates and times of every shipment of deuterium we’ve ever received.

An email string that looks as if it was sent by me.

My hands tremble as I take screenshots of the files and download them to my secure tablet. It hits hard when I realize what I’m looking at. I have to prove that I didn’t sign those logs. My career, my freedom, everything is at risk.

The fear of being framed for something I didn’t do grips me.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I need to prove my innocence, but I have to be careful. I can’t risk anyone discovering what I’m doing.

I start by digging deeper into Dr. Xiang’s computer files, searching for anything that might help me. It takes some time, but I finally find what I’m looking for—access logs for the supply locker,complete with video footage. I quickly transfer those files to my secure tablet, always making sure to cover my tracks.

I spend hours poring over the logs and footage, comparing the timestamps to my own schedule. I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize I was in meetings or off-site during some of the instances when the locker was accessed. It’s not conclusive proof, but it’s a start.

Next, I focus on the video footage. The quality isn’t great, but I enhance a few key frames. The figure entering the supply locker is wearing a lab coat, but their face is obscured. I can’t make out any identifying features, but I notice something odd—the figure seems to be using a key card that looks different from the ones issued to our team, and there’s that symbol again—??—instead of Red Phoenix’s company logo.

I make a note of this detail, hoping it might lead me to the real culprit. I also take screenshots of the email string between Dr. Xiang and the unidentified employee, making sure to highlight the discrepancies in the language and tone compared to my own writing style.

There are only a few reasons why someone would need such large quantities of deuterium, and none of them are good. My work in cancer research relies on a steady but small supply, but the sheer volume of missing deuterium points to something far more dangerous.

But what are my options?

I could confront Dr. Xiang directly and show him what I’ve found. But what if he’s involved? What if he’s the one who’s been framing me? I can’t take that risk.

I could also go to the authorities, but I quickly dismiss that idea. Without concrete evidence, it would be my word against Dr. Xiang’s, and he’s a respected figure in the scientific community. I need more proof before I can make any accusations.

For a moment, I consider leaving, just packing up my things and disappearing, but I quickly push that thought aside. I can’t abandon my work, my colleagues, everything I’ve built here. My loyalty to the company runs deep, and I have to see this through.

I search Dr. Xiang’s files, hoping to find something, anything, that will shed light on the situation.

And then, I see it: a document buried deep within layers of encryption. It takes me a while to crack the code, but when I do, my blood runs cold.

The deuterium isn’t just being stolen. It’s being systematically diverted from my lab and shipped to another facility. The implications are staggering. The production of nuclear weapons requires a significant amount of deuterium, and the quantities being shipped out match those requirements. Dr. Xiang, my mentor and the man I trusted, is potentially involved in something far more ominous than I could have imagined.

My hands tremble as I read through the details, my heart pounding. I can’t be a part of this.

I won’t be a part of this.

I can’t stay. Not anymore. If Dr. Xiang discovers I know what he’s been doing, my life could be in danger. I make a decision that will change the course of my life forever. I have to get this information to someone who can do something about it.

As I weigh my options, my thoughts drift to my parents. My father, a Chinese diplomat, and my mother, an American citizen, had always navigated the complexities of international relations with grace and integrity. They taught me the importance of doing what’s right, even when it’s difficult.

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