Page 2 of Rescuing Mia

What an honor and vote of trust.

Dr. Xiang always handles the shipments of our lab supplies himself. Deuterium is highly regulated, and mistakes cannot happen. It’s not a task lightly handed off to an assistant.

“Of course. I’m happy to help.”

My response is immediate, and my dedication to our work is unwavering. With Dr. Xiang gone for the next few days, he won’t be there to keep me from pulling several overnighters in a row. I should be able to catch up and present him with some real progress upon his return.

We’re that close to a major breakthrough.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” He gives me a small, reassuring smile before heading back to his workstation.

The next day, the loading dock bustles with frantic activity. The clanging of metal and the rumble of delivery trucks fill the air as I make my way through the chaos of deliveries and inventory. The stench of diesel fuel mingles with the sharp tang of chemicals, creating an overwhelming sensory overload. One of the security guards eyes me with suspicion. His brows knit together as he reads my security badge.

“Dr. Chen, what brings you here?” His voice is casual, masking mild curiosity.

“Dr. Xiang is out of town and sent me to pick up the shipment for his lab.” I force a smile, trying to keep my tone light.

Security at Red Phoenix is exceptionally tight. Access is highly restricted, and they don’t like it when there are changes to any routine. The guard nods, stepping aside to let me pass. I walk over to the delivery area and scan labels on towering stacks of crates and pallets until finally finding the one marked “Deuterium—Red Phoenix Pharmaceuticals; Dr. Liu Xiang.”

I studiously check the inventory against the order sheet and a discrepancy catches my eye. Ten times the amount of deuterium we normally order was delivered by mistake.

We never use that much deuterium. The amount delivered is enough for a year’s worth of research, and given how highly regulated deuterium is, this is a major error.

“Everything okay?” The guard asks from behind me. I jump, not realizing he was watching me that closely.

“Just checking everything against the supply request.” I studiously check off the other items on my list. “Thanks.”

He nods again, seemingly satisfied, and returns to his post.

I take a deep breath and make a note to inform Dr. Xiang of the error upon his return. The excess deuterium raises a red flag in my mind. Deuterium, being a key component in the production of nuclear weapons, is heavily regulated for a reason. While small quantities are essential for our cancer research, such a large surplus could indicate something far more dangerous. For now, I have to move the deuterium and other supplies into secure holding. I check the shipment paperwork and the deuterium containers again, my fingers trembling slightly.

Accepting ten times our annual supply of deuterium is a nightmare in terms of regulatory controls. Each container needs to be logged, the storage temperature checked, and the security protocols followed to the letter. The inventory must match our records precisely. Any discrepancy could lead to severe penalties or even a shutdown of our lab.

It’s why Dr. Xiang attends to this task personally rather than handing it off to one of his assistants, like me. His request that I accept the shipment for him shows his trust in me, and there’s no way I’m going to mess this up.

I transport the deuterium, along with the rest of our supply order, to the supply closet in our lab. I follow the strict protocol, scanning my ID badge at each checkpoint and logging the movement of each container in our secure inventory system. The supply closet’s heavy door locks with a resounding click, secured by a biometric scanner that only a few of us can access.

With the deuterium safely stored, I take only what I need to run today’s tests. I can’t afford to make any mistakes, not with something this tightly controlled. The QMA hums beneath my fingertips as Irun our next scheduled sets of experiments. The hours blur together, and the outside world fades away until it’s just me and the numbers.

But that discrepancy gnaws at me.

Not enough to stop what I’m doing. I don’t pull one all-nighter. I binge and spend the next forty-two hours in the lab, barely eating and catching catnaps in between runs of my experiments. Each set of data needs to be perfect and every variable accounted for. When I exhaust the small sample of deuterium I brought in to run the tests, I head back to the supply closet for more.

Only the spot where the deuterium should be is gone, replaced by what looks like a normal, much smaller container. I keep my expression neutral, even as panic rises within me.

How could this happen under such tight security? I step back, taking a deep breath. I need to figure out what happened and fast. This could be a mistake, a mix-up, or something much more sinister. Either way, I have to find it before anyone else notices I lost that much deuterium.

I do something I should never do. Dr. Xiang is a stickler for security protocols, but sometimes, it’s easier for him if he lets me do certain things—things that require me to use his private login codes. I head to his workstation, log into his computer, and then comb through our inventory records, shipment logs, and access logs, looking for any anomalies or unauthorized access.

I find an unusual login to our supply locker, right after I placed the deuterium inside. My pulse quickens. This login doesn’t match any authorized personnel. I delve deeper, tracing the logs back over the past year. The same unauthorized login appears after every shipment of deuterium has been accepted.

Someone has been accessing our supply locker under our noses for months. My heart pounds as I realize the magnitude of the breach. I need to get more details on this login, but I have to be cautious.

I take a deep breath and document everything so that I can show it to Dr. Xiang when he returns. I capture screenshots of the logs, noting the timestamps and the pattern of unauthorized access.I download the evidence to my secure, company-provided tablet, which only I can access.

I search Dr. Xiang’s computer files, hoping to find more evidence of the theft.

Is it too early to call it theft?

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