Chapter 10 — End of Line Bus 08

Four o'clock in the morning. Last night's showers have stopped, leaving behind the chilly air and the earthy smell typical of the suburban area. The Eastern sky was just beginning to brighten with a faint silvery gray streak.

Huy separated from Tue and Mr. Ba at a deserted intersection far from the textile factory. Tue will drive the bus, taking Mr. Ba with him, straight to the headquarters of the City Criminal Police Department following a circuitous route to avoid eyes and ears. As for Huy, he caught a taxi even though it was parked sleepily on the side of the road, asking the driver to run at top speed towards Mien Dong Bus Station.

His heart beat to the hurried rhythm of the clock on the dashboard. Dai Nam's people certainly knew that Mr. Ba had escaped, and with their underground power network, it did not take long for them to find out that he had arrived at the bus station before. Automated locker number 104 is a ticking time bomb.

Five-fifteen in the morning. Mien Dong bus station is starting to wake up. The breakfast shops were constantly preparing their goods, the smoke of beef noodle soup and pho rising. The sound of cars calling customers began to echo sporadically.

Huy pulled down the baseball cap he borrowed from the taxi driver to cover half of his face, and quickly walked into the VIP waiting room. This area is much more deserted than the main lobby, bright neon lights illuminate two rows of cold metal smart lockers.

Huy's eyes quickly scanned to find the number 104. It is located in the third row, bottom right corner.

He walked closer and looked around. Still quiet. His hand shook slightly as he inserted the tiny key into the lock. A dry "click" sounded. The iron cabinet door opened.

Inside is an old Nike sports bag, ash gray in color. Without hesitating for a second, Huy grabbed the bag, quickly stuffed it into his backpack, and then slammed the closet door shut.

Right at the moment he turned around to leave, from the tempered glass door of the VIP lounge, three men dressed in black, with muscular physiques, and crew cut hair simultaneously pushed the door and entered. They rolled their eyes like radar scanning the hall, their eyes stopping at the row of automatic cabinets.

Huy pressed his body against a large concrete pillar nearby, holding his breath. They have arrived. If he was just five minutes late, the hard drive would have fallen into the hands of the devil forever.

Waiting for the three black-shirted guys to disperse and start checking each row of cabinets, Huy slipped through a side door reserved for cleaning staff, exited the back parking lot and joined the stream of people rushing to start a new day on the main street.

Seven o'clock in the morning. Huy did not go home, nor did he visit his usual coffee shop. He carried the backpack containing the truth bomb and went straight to the headquarters of the Law & Society newspaper located on Nguyen Thi Minh Khai street. The high-rise office building was quiet, with only a few cleaning staff cleaning.

Huy used his employee card to swipe the door, went straight into his office, and locked the door. He completely unplugged the LAN cable, disconnected the desktop computer's Wifi, and made sure it was completely offline before plugging in the portable hard drive.

The signal light on the hard drive flashes. The computer screen displays a single folder named "HUNG THINH_BACKUP". There was no password protection - perhaps Mr. Ba couldn't copy in time in his panic, or didn't know how to encrypt.

Huy double click. A bloody data treasure opened before my eyes.

Just like Mr. Ba confessed, this is a huge, irrefutable amount of evidence. There are hundreds of original geological reports in PDF format with digital signatures of field engineers - people like Dinh Trong Quy - clearly stating the serious subsidence of Block B's foundation. Next to those are report files that have been "photoshopped" with data in a sophisticated way to submit to the authorities.

Even more horrifying is the folder containing secretly recorded videos from construction site security cameras (CCTV). Huy tried opening a video whose date and time coincided with the time engineer Quy worked. The black and white image is clearly displayed at midnight, a series of tank trucks without license plates or company logos slowly entering the construction site. They pumped a thick black liquid from giant tanks into deep foundation holes, then cranes dropped blue and red plastic drums down. Finally, fresh concrete tankers came in, pouring thousands of concrete blocks to cover everything.

There are also secret recordings of internal briefings, in which the voice of a man called "Boss Vu" - Dai Nam Group's Security Director - coldly orders "clean up the nosy people", "leave no trace", "spend as much as you want, as long as the foundation is covered".

This is no longer an ordinary investigative report. This is a particularly serious criminal case that could shock the whole country, collapse a billion-dollar real estate empire and send a series of officials to prison.

Huy took a deep breath and opened the text editor software. The keyboard clicked continuously in the quiet space. He was writing the most important article of his twenty years of work. An article exposed the entire crime of burying toxic waste under the foundation of a super project, exposing the network to kill witnesses, accompanied by images extracted from the hard drive.

Nine thirty in the morning. The completed article has a capacity of more than three thousand words, with dozens of supporting documents attached. Huy saved the article and important files on a tiny encrypted USB hidden in his pocket, then printed out a draft on paper.

He took the documents, walked out of the room, and went straight to the Editor-in-Chief's office on the top floor.

Editor-in-Chief Tran Hoang is a man in his fifties, always appears in a neat suit, is famous for being sharp and has extensive connections in the media and political world. When Huy walked in, Mr. Hoang was sipping a cup of lotus tea and watching the morning news.

"Huy? You look so exhausted? Are you staying up all night hunting for news?" Mr. Hoang smiled casually. "Sit down. Is there anything sensational?"

"A bomb, Mr. Hoang," Huy placed the stack of printed documents firmly on the Editor-in-Chief's red oak desk. "I need you to approve and publish this article exclusively on the home page immediately, without editing. It involves the lives of many people, and my life too."

Mr. Hoang frowned and picked up the stack of papers. His eyes glanced at the article's title, then quickly flipped through the printed pages of hidden camera images, geological data tables, and a list of five missing people.

Huy observed his boss's face. He expected to see shock, indignation, or at least excitement in one house reported when he had a super "scandal" in his hands.

But no. Mr. Hoang's face did not change. His hands holding the paper did not tremble. On the contrary, it is calm and cold. It seemed that he knew in advance, or at least was not surprised by this heinous crime.

After five minutes of dead silence, Mr. Hoang gently placed the stack of documents on the table and pulled out a tissue to wipe his glasses.

"Where did you get these, Huy?" Mr. Hoang's voice was low, no longer the initial friendliness.

"From an undercover witness. The original hard drive is in my hand," Huy replied, feeling a cold air start to run down his spine. Your boss's reaction was completely wrong.

Mr. Hoang sighed softly, stood up, walked out the door, and pushed the latch closed with a dry "click" sound. He walked to the tempered glass window, looking down at the noisy city below.

"You're a good reporter, Huy. Extremely good," Mr. Hoang said, turning his back to Huy. "But you are too naive in terms of politics and economics. How long have you been working here and you don't want to find out where the milk that sustains this massive editorial office comes from?"

"What do you mean?" Huy's heart began to beat rapidly. He reached into his pocket, clutching the USB containing the copy.

Mr. Hoang turned around and looked straight into Huy's eyes with pity. "Three months ago, when the media market was difficult, an anonymous investment fund injected a huge amount of capital to acquire a controlling stake in the parent media group that owns this newspaper. The editorial office was given new funding, you got a raise, and you got a new official vehicle. Who do you think that investment fund belongs to?"

He paused for a moment, spitting out each word: "It is one of the financial companies belonging to the ecosystem of Dai Nam Group. Bui Thanh Long is the biggest boss standing behind the chair you and I are sitting on."

Heaven and earth seemed to collapse before Huy's eyes. It turned out that the iron cage had been set up a long time ago without him even knowing. The newspaper that he always prided himself on being the flag of protecting justice was actually bought out by the villain's money, turned into a PR tool and silenced public opinion.

"This article," Mr. Hoang pointed to the stack of documents on the table, "should never be published. If it goes up, this entire media group will collapse, hundreds of people will lose their jobs. And more importantly, Chairman Long will not leave us alone."

"Are you covering up murderers and environmental killers, Hoang?" Huy growled indignantly, throwing the boss-employee title aside. "Thousands of people will buy houses on a toxic chemical dump waiting to collapse! Are you still a journalist?"

"I'm a manager, Huy!" Mr. Hoang slammed his hand on the table. "I have to worry about the survival of this agency. Give me the original hard drive, right now. It's as if you've never seen anything. I will transfer you to the position of Head of a commune abroad, a prosperous, safe life. If not..."

"What if not?" Huy challenged, taking a step back towards the door.

"If not, I will have to call the building security department," Mr. Hoang pressed a small button under the table. "And by the way, call the people who are looking for that notebook and hard drive. You are suspended indefinitely from the moment Hey, Lam Huy. Your press card has been revoked."

Huy gritted his teeth. The wall of the rotten system surrounded him from all sides. There are no allies in this luxurious glass building.

He glanced quickly at the heavy brass ashtray on the coffee table. In a split second, Huy grabbed the ashtray, swung his hand and threw it hard at the large window glass behind Mr. Hoang. The double-layer tempered glass only cracked the spider web, not shattered, but the harsh sound was enough to make the Editor-in-Chief startled and dodged, losing focus for a few short seconds.

Taking advantage of that moment, Huy rushed to the main door, used his strength to break the lock with his bare hands, pulled the door open and rushed into the hallway.

"Protect! Stop him!" Mr. Hoang shouted from behind.

But Huy rushed into the stairwell, taking three steps at a time, rushing straight to the basement parking lot. He is no longer a reputable investigative journalist. Right now, he has officially become a fugitive, carrying a data bomb that could blow up an empire of underground power, hunted by the very people he once called colleagues.