Faasp Hospital (4 page)

Donald’s cheek tightened. “He probably doesn’t have enough money to hire one.”

I nodded. “Is Nate or anyone else in Ahantech sending Medxao code to Ray?”

He grimaced. “I’ve been thinking about that. However, it’s hard to prove.”

I sighed. “If you asked them, they could lie.”

He exhaled, a frustrated expression on his face. “Exactly.” He thanked me for coming in.

I left.

Thursday, several hours before dawn, while sleeping on my cot, I blinked, woken up by a noise. It was coming from nearby. I jumped up and flung the door open.

Across the hall, outside Cindy’s office, a dimly lit figure with a hood glanced over one shoulder at me.

I shouted, “What are you doing?”

The stranger, their face hidden in darkness, turned to the right, and sprinted away.

I raced toward them.

They veered left and went down another corridor.

I went in that direction.

Ahead, beyond waist-high carts, an indigo silhouette, barely noticeable in the dim light, ran around a corner.

I tripped over a chair and landed on the floor, sweating, angry that the intruder had escaped.

I reached Cindy’s door and flinched. It was partly open. I called Don. Voicemail switched on.

He yawned. “Who is it?”

I answered and mentioned the break in. He said he would be here soon.

I dialed Cindy’s number.

A recording started. I left a message.

Within minutes, a security guard and Donald arrived.

The guard examined the entrance to her office, a door with a keypad. “The burglar might have used a slim jim or lock out nanorobots to open this.”

According to my phone search, on many occasions, burglars used a slim jim, one that disconnected levers and rods. Skilled vandals updated simple nanorobot’s code, creating lock out nanorobots. But the article didn’t say who was capable of doing this.

The guard asked what noise woke me up.

I answered.

He frowned. “That’s not much to go on. Don’t you remember anything else?”

“No.”

Donald scowled and glanced at me. “Let’s take a short walk.”

I nodded.

He glowered. “Ray might not know that guard, but it’s hard to tell. Anyway, someone is desperate.”

“Yes.”

Cindy showed up, a terrified look on her face and thanked me for calling.

We headed for her office.

The guard took photographs, then said police would scan for fingerprints and DNA remnants, and told us to stay out of her office until the investigation was complete.

Donald asked him to put in a second lock, an expensive deadbolt that couldn’t be picked, on every Ahantech employee’s door.

The guard said he would think about it.

Donald scowled.

That evening, my phone rang.

Nate blurted, “I’m in the Faasp parking lot. Somebody just slashed my tires.”

I blinked. “Did you tell Donald?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago.” He told me this area was under around-the-clock camera surveillance.

The next morning, Donald and I entered Room Nine, keeping an appointment. Because every Faasp employee’s infrared signature was on a database, surveillance cameras might help us identify the vandal.

Rita, an experienced guard, pushed keys.

On screen, Nate’s black sedan, a dimly lit shape that was difficult to see in the dark, focused.

Rita leaned forward, studying the image. “This was taken two hours, eight minutes after midnight.”

I stared, flinching.

Next to the front wheel, a human silhouette crouched.

Donald squinted. “Can you enlarge that?”

“Sure. They’re wearing a ski mask. It’s impossible to ID them.”

I frowned. “That didn’t help.”

Donald sighed. “You’re right.”

Nate blurted, “I hate this.”

My jaw muscles tightened. “I don’t like it either.”

Rita said, “Their infrared signature isn’t on the database. That’s the best we can do for now. I’ll check with police. They’ll scan for fingerprints and DNA.”

Donald gritted his teeth. “We should keep copies of our work on flash drives and store them in different locations.”

I nodded. Although this time consuming effort might protect our files from thieves, the effort would slow us down.

Nate shook his head. “More trouble.”

The next evening, my phone rang.

Donald said, “The only fingerprints the police found on Cindy’s door or in her office were hers.”

“What about DNA?”

He sighed. “They only found hair and a few pieces of skin. All of them are Cindy’s.”

“Did they find out who broke into Nate’s car?”

“No.”

I hesitated, my mind in overdrive, feeling helpless.

Saturday morning, a few days later, I entered my apartment, reading snail mail, a once a week ritual. A desktop was empty, no sign of my laptop computer. I turned and entered my bedroom, searching for it. My thoughts raced, wondering where the CPU was. After opening drawers, I blinked. Someone had stolen it.

Damn!

I called Gary, the apartment manager, and told him about the theft.

Gary and a policeman named Ben entered.

I shook the officer’s hand. “Thanks for coming. Are you going to scan for fingerprints and DNA?”

“Yes.”

I called Donald. His voicemail switched on. I left a message.

Ben frowned. “Justin, do you have any idea who did this?”

I scowled. “Maybe.” I told him about my projects at Faasp.

He typed and asked me to describe the stolen property.

Donald arrived. We walked.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “My guess is they want to keep me from finishing Medxao.”

Donald scowled. “Was there any valuable information on your laptop that the intruder could use to improve the software?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to remember.”

“Is it protected by a password?”

“Yes.” I flinched.

“Is it hard to crack?”

I nodded.

Donald glowered. “They might tear it apart and try to steal data.”

“Maybe.” It was hard to destroy a hard drive’s information unless you smashed or burned it to a crisp.

Donald paused, a worried look on his face. “It could have been a random burglary. A neighbor noticed you weren’t around.”

“It’s possible, but I don’t think so.”

We headed for my apartment door.

Ben probed the area with a handheld scanner. “Justin, after this is analyzed, we’ll call you. Don’t go inside until I’m finished. This will take a few hours.”

I nodded, adrenaline pumping.

Monday afternoon, my phone rang.

Ben spoke, “We only found your hair and fingerprints.”

I flinched. Hair was the best way to determine someone’s DNA. The intruder had worn gloves along with clothing that didn’t leave any particles. “They didn’t leave any heel or sole fragments?”

“Our scanners can’t detect those.”

I thanked him his efforts and my mind sped up, trying to figure out how we could catch these robbers.

Wednesday afternoon, after struggling with Medxao for five weeks, my phone rang.

Donald said, “Dr. Haar just told me that Faasp bought Portsi, software that is superior to Medxao.”

I blinked. “Is he going to fire every Ahantech employee?”

Donald cleared his throat, a nervous habit. “It’s hard to say. I’ll call you the minute I find out. Anyway, download Portsi onto your hard drive and use it, right now.”

The next morning, Donald entered my office. “I hate telling you this, but every Ahantech will be laid off in two weeks.”

I cringed. “What should I do in the meantime?”

“Keep working on your current project.”

“Who will replace us?”

“Dr. Haar didn’t tell me.”

“I thought he trusted us.”

“So did I.”

The following Tuesday, at daybreak, Portsi crashed, destroying every file I had created in the last few days. I called Donald.

“Yes.”

I told him about the problem.

He hesitated. “I hate telling Dr. Haar about this.”

“Would he think I’m doing it on purpose, trying to save my job?”

“It’s hard to say. I’ll be there in a minute. After I arrive, tell me what happened before it crashed.”

I pointed at the screen and described my recent efforts.

He scowled. “The source code is complex. It could take weeks, months, or years to figure out what’s wrong. I’ll go to my office and call Dr. Haar.”

Within the hour, my phone rang.

Donald cleared his throat. “He said that every Ahantech employee should keep using Portsi.”

“Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“It was his decision, not mine.”

That evening, my phone rang.

Donald spoke, “Store each Portsi file on a storage drive every ten minutes. Otherwise, you’ll lose important data.”

I exhaled, relieving tension. “Got it. Will every Ahantech employee have to do this?”

“Yes.”

At dusk, the second to last day on my job, the phone rang.

Donald said, “Dr. Haar is going keep every Ahantech employee.”

I chortled. “This is nuts.”

“These things happen. Anyway, use Medxao, not Portsi.”

I scowled. “Why did Dr. Haar change his mind?”

“He didn’t tell me. According to Marsha, an assistant to the CFO, although Portsi is inexpensive, it’s full of bugs.”

“What else did she say?”

“Nothing. We’ll talk later.” He hung up.

How did he meet her? Donald rarely talked to me about his connections inside Faasp.

I typed, feeling hopeful yet paranoid. Would the CFO or anyone else in her department buy other software, and give up on Medxao? I didn’t want to think about this topic anymore.

Five months later, on Monday as I went down a hall, my phone rang.

Donald said, “Good news.”

I raised an eyebrow, curious. “What is it?”

“Come to my office.”

I sat down, grinning, baffled.

Donald chuckled, something I had never seen him do before. “Gennat, a hospital network, just purchased Medxao. Your share, slightly more than forty million dollars, will be directly deposited in your bank account in a few minutes.”

“Unbelievable.”

He shook my hand. “Congratulations. You played a big role in this.

“Judging by that look on your face, you’re as surprised as I am.”

My mind went into high gear, trying to take it all in.

“I’m not sure how they heard about Medxao.

“Anyway, go home an hour early, celebrate. Tomorrow morning, I want you to test new software, Qurev. We’ll talk more about it then.

“By the way, call me Don.”

I nodded, impressed, knowing that everyone else addressed him as Donald.

After paying the taxi driver, I climbed out, and entered an auto dealership. Although I thought about buying a car last month, doing it felt risky. Donald could replace me.

A salesman in a tailor made suit frowned. “Can I help you?”

I pointed at an expensive sports car, a TZ. “I want to take it for a short drive.”

He paused, an annoyed expression on his face. “Sure.”

I climbed in.

He adjusted the passenger seat. “You look nervous.”

“I’m excited.”

He smiled and put a key in the ignition. The car started, a barely audible humming noise. “It goes from zero to sixty in three seconds.”

“Amazing.” I drove away, then turned and stopped at a red light.

To our left, a beautiful woman rolled down her car window. “Is that yours?”

I laughed, enjoying her question. “Maybe.”

“It’s sleek. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I nodded, pleased by her comment, pushed the accelerator, and glanced at the salesman. “Do people usually react that way to the TZ?”

“Absolutely.”

I sat at the salesman’s desk.

He grabbed papers. “We have a great installment plan.”

“It’s not necessary. I’ll pay for all of it now.”

He stared at me, an astonished expression on his face.

I parked in front of my apartment.

A cute twenty something woman with an hourglass figure kept staring at the TZ. She walked around it and stopped, close to my window, eyes wide open. “Wow.”

I chuckled, feeling upbeat. “What’s your name?”

“Lou.”

“Would you like to go for a short tour?”

She blurted, “Who, me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Let’s go.” She hurried toward the passenger side and hopped in.

I drove off. “Tell me about yourself.”

Lou paused, eyelids fluttering. “I’m a hair stylist at Cut Above.”

“That’s decent work.”

“Sort of.”

I nodded, not sure what to say about her vague comment.

“What about you?”

I answered, a short explanation.

“Neato.”

I offered a brief grin, not wanting to brag. “What is your favorite band?”

“The Kinks.”

I pushed a button. One of their songs played.

“I love this.” She snapped her fingers, keeping time to the beat.

On a sidewalk, a man snapped a picture of the TZ.

Lou aimed her finger at him, smirking, and broke out laughing.

I parked near our apartment and gave her my business card. “Call, any time.”

“Thanks.” She exited, a happy expression on her face.

I got out, wondering if Lou would contact me.

A small crowd gathered around my car.

Tammy took a picture of the auto and kissed Jane.

I cringed, feeling resentful, and walked away, tapping my phone’s screen. Photos of mansions scrolled.

Later in the afternoon, someone knocked on my apartment door.

I walked and opened it, curious. Had Lou decided to drop by?

Tammy, camera in hand, dressed in black, beamed. “Most of my pictures are blurred. Can you help me fix them?”