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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.
     

Chapter Twelve
     
     
    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