Chapter 17 — End of Line Bus 08

They emerged from the ground at a manhole that discharged into a black canal in the suburbs, nearly three kilometers from the scrap yard. All three were in tatters, smelling strongly of mud and garbage.

Phong leaned against the concrete embankment, his face frighteningly pale. Blood continued to ooze from the wound on his shoulder, soaking a large area of his T-shirt.

"We have to take him to the hospital," Huy said in a panic, using his sleeve to try to press firmly on Phong's wound to stop the bleeding.

"Don't go to the public hospital," Phong whispered, struggling to shake Huy's hand away. "The emergency room always has police on duty. My boss's gang has issued an internal arrest warrant for me. As soon as I show my face in there, I will be handcuffed number eight."

"I know a place," Tue said quickly, smoothing her hair matted with sewage from her face. "An unlicensed private clinic owned by Dr. Tu. He used to be a military medical officer, specializing in secretly treating gangsters who were beaten up or people without identification documents. He never asked for names or reported to the police."

Forty-five minutes later, they were at a shabby four-level house deep in a maze of small alleys in Binh Tan district. Dr. Tu's clinic is disguised behind an old motorbike repair shop.

Doctor Tu, a man in his sixties, thin and constantly smoking, did not show any emotion when he saw three people entering in a miserable appearance. He just nodded and pointed to the stainless steel bed covered with white sheets in the corner of the room.

"Hit by a shotgun bullet. Penetrated the soft part of the shoulder blade, did not hit the bone, but lost a lot of blood," Doctor Tu quickly diagnosed with his eyes after cutting off the shirt around Phong's wound. He turned to Huy and Tue. "You two go out to the living room and wait. Wash your face and nose, it stinks. The pay is three times the normal rate for treating gunshot wounds."

"Agreed," Huy nodded, pulled out a few wads of cash from his backpack (in case he always brought it with him) and placed them on the table.

Huy and Tue washed quickly at the faucet in the backyard and changed into old clothes that Dr. Tu threw to them. When they returned to the cramped living room, Huy turned on the old convex screen TV placed on the corner of the cabinet.

Every TV channel, every online newspaper is exploding.

The data "bomb" that K spread at ten o'clock in the morning created a real tsunami in cyberspace. Hashtags related to "Dai Nam Dong", "Radioactive waste", "Death list" are topping all search trends. Social network groups are filled with calls for protests, demanding a boycott of Dai Nam Group and demanding government intervention.

But, when Huy switched to the official national news channel, his face immediately sank.

The news is broadcasting an urgent press release. Instead of condemning Dai Nam, the announcer is reading a text with a completely different tone:

*"This morning, a large-scale organized cyber attack from servers located abroad targeted Dai Nam Group and a number of city data systems. Cyber security experts are verifying the authenticity of the leaked documents, initially identifying signs of high-tech fabrication (Deepfake) for the purpose of defaming, blackmailing businesses and destabilizing security and order. Authorities advise people Do not share unverified information..."*

"Fuck!" Tue slammed her hand down on the glass coffee table, causing several tea cups to bounce. "They're bleaching! They call it a disguised cyber attack!"

"Bui Thanh Long has an umbrella that covers his head too big," Huy scratched his head, looking desperately at the TV screen. "He is using his political connections at the central level to extinguish the media fire. If the authorities conclude that the network data is fake, then he will be safe. Thousands of Phase 2 apartments will still be built on the chemical landfill."

Huy stared at the black backpack lying on the floor. "We have the original paper contract. We have fresh signatures. This cannot be called Deepfake. But the problem is... who do we give it to now? Who is pure enough and powerful enough to receive this backpack without destroying it and us?"

The operating room door opened slightly. Phong came out, his left shoulder was carefully bandaged, his arm hanging with a medical bandage around his neck. His face was rosier thanks to fluid injections and painkiller injections, but his eyes still looked tired.

"Give it to General Pham," Phong said hoarsely, sitting down on the plastic chair opposite Huy.

"Who is General Pham?" Tue asked.

"Major General Pham Van Tuong. Director of the Police Department investigating corruption, economic and smuggling crimes of the Ministry of Public Security," Phong explained. "He is famous as a modern-day public defender, not afraid of any political power. My old boss used to tremble like a leaf when he heard his name. Last night, when I reported the situation of Mr. Ba's case to a trusted former boss at the central government, he said that General Pham had secretly led a special working group to fly directly from Hanoi to Saigon this morning to directly take over the Dai Nam Dong case, because its scale had exceeded local control.

Huy's eyes lit up. "Then we just need to bring the backpack and deliver it to his Working Group."

"It's not that simple," Phong smiled bitterly. "The special working group is stationed at a guest house of the Ministry of National Defense that is extremely strictly protected. No internal exit, no foreign import to avoid information leaks or local interference. You and I, currently in the system, are carrying arrest warrants: a person who spread secret documents against the state, a corrupt police officer who shot his comrades. If we get too close to the gate of that guesthouse, the police guarding the gate will shoot us before we can open our mouths to say a word."

"It means we have iron evidence, someone to judge fairly, but we are stuck outside the protective fence?" Tue sighed sadly.

"We can't go inside. Then General Pham must be forced to come out and meet us," Huy said slowly, his sharp brain like that of a journalist analyzing every possibility. "He's a crime-fighting general. What would require him to personally appear at a crime scene?"

Phong looked at Huy and raised his eyebrows. He understood his college friend too well. Every time Huy uses that tone, he's harboring a crazy idea.

"Don't tell me you're planning to do something terrible, Huy," Phong warned.

"We need a 'warning shot'," Huy tapped his fingers on the table. "A shocking event, directly related to Bui's network Thanh Long, was so big that the local police could not cover it up, and General Pham's Working Group was forced to jump in and take command of the scene."

Huy pulled out Dinh Trong Quy's old sheepskin notebook from his pocket. Flip through the last pages.

"In the pile of documents I read at the newspaper this morning, Bui Thanh Long could not cover the sky with one hand. He has an extremely important political patron in this city. The person who signed a series of licensing decisions for the Dai Nam Dong project circumvented ecological safety standards, and also directed the media to conceal information."

Huy pointed his finger at a name circled in red on a notepad. "Mr. Tran Huu Dung, Director of the City Department of Natural Resources and Environment."

"Are you crazy?" Phong stood up, forgetting the pain. "Are you planning on assassinating a Department Director? You will be charged with terrorism!"

"Not assassination," Huy looked up at Phong, his eyes were sharp and determined like a martyred warrior. "We'll kidnap him."

Both Phong and Tue were stunned.

"Abduct the Director of the Department of Natural Resources and Environment, barricade himself in a crowded public location, and make a single request: Only negotiate directly with Major General Pham Van Tuong of the Ministry of Public Security," Huy stated the plan clearly. "That is the only way for this truth bomb to explode in the right place, at the right place, and completely extinguish Dai Nam's political umbrella."

"You're such a crazy journalist," Tue shook her head, but then she smiled slightly and reached for the motorbike keys. "But I like the way you work. So let's go catch the big guy."

"Wait." Phong put his good hand on the table and stood in front of the door. "I just shot someone without a warrant, I'm being searched internally, but at least I know where the final line is. Taking an official hostage is no longer an investigation. If just one civilian is injured, all our evidence will turn into an excuse for them to call us a terrorist."

The smile on Tue's lips disappeared. Huy did not immediately object. The sound of an old fan rattling on the ceiling blew the smell of disinfectant and cigarette smoke around the room. From behind the curtain, Dr. Tu was washing the tools, deliberately making a lot of noise as if he didn't want to hear the argument.

"I didn't mean to hurt Mr. Dung," Huy said after a while. "And I'm not planning on throwing him out of anywhere. Claims are just a stage to force the system to react. When General Pham appeared, I handed over the people, handed over the documents, and surrendered."

"What if the person who appeared first was a local gunman?" Phong asked. "What if they mistakenly shot Tue, shot Mr. Dung, or shot you before hearing a sentence? A plan that relies on the opponent acting properly is not a plan."

Huy looked at the backpack. Scorched edges of paper protruded from the zipper, incredibly fragile considering their weight. He opened his backpack and divided the file into three parts: the original contract, the signed geological report, and engineer Quy's notebook. Each section was photographed under a table lamp, accompanied by a piece of paper recording the date, time and current location.

"So we create three layers of insurance," he said. "A physical copy sent first. A timed version will be published. And the confrontation must be broadcast live so that neither side can secretly open fire and rewrite the story."

Tue took Dr. Tu's phone. Call K using the number you memorized. After three rings, K's voice rang out amidst the sound of the server fan.

"I thought three people were dead in the junkyard. The good news is that the data is still spreading. The bad news is that they're blocking keywords faster than we can create new paths."

Huy presented his request. K was silent for a few seconds and then said it was possible to build a distributed stream across multiple servers, but it would take at least an hour to prepare and three devices needed to stream at the same time. If the main phone is destroyed, the other two devices will continue to transmit. K also found Tran Huu Dung's public schedule: at five o'clock in the afternoon, he attended a private meeting at a restaurant on Dien Bien Phu Street; At six thirty, I will go to the studio to record a statement refuting the leaked data.

"The meeting is not on the office calendar," K said. "But the official vehicle has a registered parking space at the side door of the restaurant. The only security guard accompanying him is the driver and a secretary. However, since he lost contact, you have at most ten minutes before the whole city knows."

Phong took a pen, pulled the medicine paper closer and drew a diagram. Even though he protested, his professional instincts did not allow him to let the other two enter into an obscure plan. He circled three locations, crossing out two because they were too tight or had no escape route. Finally, the pen stopped at Dai Nam Plaza, an unfinished building right in the center, which belongs to a subsidiary of Bui Thanh Long.

"This place is high enough so that the signal is not blocked, and public enough so that it is difficult for them to hide it," Phong said. "But it's also a cage. There are only two stairs and an unfinished elevator core. When the forces surrounded, no one could leave."

"We don't need to leave," Huy replied. "We need to hold out until the Task Force receives the signal."

"General Pham is unlikely to look at social networks."

"He will see if the file is sent directly to the Bureau's on-call line."

Phong looked at you for a long time then sighed. He called a phone number used only in special situations, read a string of personal identification codes and left a simple message: there is original evidence of the Dai Nam Dong case, the handover location will be announced at 18:00, please report directly to Major General Pham Van Tuong. Then he removed the SIM card and broke it in half.

"I can only help so much," Phong said. "With this injury, I will only slow down the two of you. But listen clearly: Mr. Dung must be intact. Do not tie his neck, do not block his airway, do not use real weapons. The camera is always pointed at the hostage to prove he is safe. If there is an opportunity to hand over the file to the right person before the deadline, it will be over immediately."

Tue nodded. "I'll drive and look after him. Huy will take care of the delivery."

"Are not." Huy turned to her. "You were just beaten, almost died in the explosion and you can still walk away from this. I'll do it myself."

"You still don't understand?" Tue pulled up her sleeve, revealing bruises around her wrists. "Route 08 was my car. Five people were taken away in my car. Mr. Ba chose my car to send evidence. I'm not the one you dragged in; I was in this before I knew your name."

Huy couldn't find an answer. The determination in Tue's eyes is not impulsive. That was the decision of a person who had driven past the same empty stations many nights, looking at the empty seats without knowing whether the person who had sat there was alive or dead.

Doctor Tu suddenly opened the curtain and walked out, placing a small medical bag on the table. "There are bandages in here, antiseptic, fingertip oxygen meter and two masks. There's nothing you can do to make people unconscious like in the movies. If you want to take a fat person up twenty floors, you have to calculate your strength."

He looked at Phong and then at Huy. "I'm not asking you guys anything, but I'll say one thing: saving someone with an action that makes you unable to return is also a form of losing your life. Before you go, make sure what you saved is worth more than that price."

No one answered. Huy put the original contract in a waterproof bag and handed a copy to Phong. K sends three access codes and a map of the route with the fewest cameras. Tue found in the backyard an old truck that the doctor used to transport oxygen tanks; She checked the oil, brakes and tire pressure with the care of someone who understood the car would be her only chance.

Before getting in the car, Huy turned to look at Phong. "If we're not on the air by six o'clock, send a copy. Don't wait."

Phong squeezed your shoulder with his good hand. "If General Pham comes, kneel down first and explain later. Don't try to be a hero again."

The truck left the alley when the afternoon sun was dyeing the corrugated iron roofs red. In the trunk of the car, Huy tested three cameras, checked each layer of documents and wrote a single request on the cover. Tue drove through small roads without turning on the radio. Both understood that from the moment they approached Tran Huu Dung, they would have no way back; But for the first time since bus 08 was turned into a human trap, they were no longer running from the darkness. They are forcing the darkness to step out where thousands of eyes can see.