Winslow nodded, a sour expression etched on his craggy face. “I’m afraid so.” He was dressed in khakis and a black polo, and looked somehow less official without his customary suit. He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Juan… who else knows about the details of what you’re doing? Specifically, anything about the genetic evolution algorithm.”

Juan considered the question for a moment. “Well, I suppose a lot of people at work know generally what I’m doing, but only two other people have access to the algorithm: Carol, my lab assistant, and Mike Kim, our Stanford intern. Do you think one of them…”

“I don’t know.” Winslow held a pained expression. “The FBI was rather tight-lipped about what they knew. But they did mention the ‘Darwin Algorithm version 3.4.’ Does that ring a bell?”

Juan’s eyes opened wide. “My god. That’s what I call the code that implements my algorithm. Except 3.4 is from about six months ago.” He felt a deep sense of betrayal and anger rise up within him. How dare anyone steal from him? Could Carol or Mike have stolen the algorithm?

Winslow shook his head, and his voice took on a tinge of regret. “I’m afraid that I will have to order polygraph tests be done for everyone at your site—including you. We’ve got to get to the bottom of this.”

“I’ll take whatever tests you want. I want to get to the bottom of this more than anyone.”

“Good.” Winslow leaned over and grabbed what looked like a finger-length USB device off his desk. He held it up and said, “The FBI is convinced that someone in AgriMed is stealing our research and selling it to someone. Now, the FBI might be stingy about the details, but they did leave me with some tools to prevent further theft. We’ll need to get you set up with our IT security, but from now on, any access to your files will require multi-factor authentication.”

Juan stared at the director in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Winslow waved the USB stick. “The way it was explained to me was that one side is a normal USB port—you just plug it into your computer. The other side, the one that looks like a flattened thumb grip, is a fingerprint reader. The FBI agents left us an entire case of these with instructions. I’ll have our IT guys program this particular one against your fingerprint, and we’ll get all of your files, including the ones that you had at home, encrypted so they can be unlocked only by someone using one of these decryption dongles.”

“That’s great for electronic files,” Juan said, “but I’ve got lots of my work printed out and not on the computer—”