Story code: ST-001213
Part 2: The Registry Log
The garage lab grew quiet, save for the low hum of the compressor cooling the storage units. David turned his gaze from Marcus to the locked inventory cabinet, then back again. “Open the cabinet, Marcus,” David said.
Marcus did not move toward the cabinet. Instead, he adjusted the collar of his outer jacket, his hand brushing against the fabric of the right pocket. “The keycard log has been glitching all day. We shouldn’t risk locking down the system if the reader misreads the code. We need to focus on prepping a new batch from scratch for the investors.”
“I have the master override on the tablet,” Leo said from his position by the garage door. He did not look up from the screen, but his thumb hovered over the interface.
Clara stepped toward the cabinet, her fingers pressing against the cold metal door. “The precursor kit contains exactly two hundred grams of Reagent B-12. If the run failed or never happened, the seal is unbroken. Let’s see the physical inventory.”
Marcus blinked rapidly, his posture shifting as he stepped between Clara and the cabinet. “Even if the seal is broken, it doesn’t prove your version of the story, Clara. You could have easily ruined the batch during prep and disposed of the evidence to cover your mistake. You’ve been making errors all week.”
“The digital scale in the cabinet auto-records the mass every time the shelf is disturbed,” Leo said, his voice flat and monotonous. He tapped the diagnostics tablet twice. “I am pulling the raw reagents registry now.”
David walked over to stand behind Leo, looking down at the illuminated screen. Clara stood still, her eyes fixed on Marcus, her breathing shallow.
“Registry updated,” Leo announced. “Reagent Kit B-12. Initial weight: two hundred grams. Current weight: zero grams. Consumed entirely at 1:40 AM.”
The silence in the garage was absolute.
“Two hundred grams,” David said, his voice dropping an octave. “That’s the exact amount required for a full synthesis. If the reagents are completely gone, the compound was made.” He turned to face Marcus. “Where is the amber vial?”
“She threw it away,” Marcus said quickly, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself. “She realized she botched the sequence at the very end, panic-purged the centrifuge, and threw the vial into the chemical disposal to hide the waste of fifty thousand dollars of material. Look at her. She’s desperate.”
Clara pointed a trembling finger at the sink. “The disposal unit has an automated sensor log. It registers any chemical dump over five milliliters. Leo, check the sensor log.”
Leo’s thumb moved across the tablet. “Zero activity on the disposal sensor for the last twenty-four hours.”
Marcus shifted his weight, his hand clenching inside his jacket pocket. “Then she hid it. She’s trying to sabotage the project because she knows she can’t handle the pressure of the investor call.”
Leo scrolled further down the screen. “There is another log entry,” Leo said. “The automated system log shows a sequence run using a personal access key at 2:15 AM, thirty minutes after Clara’s run ended.” He looked up, his eyes meeting Marcus’s. “The key belonged to you, Marcus.”