Chapter 7 — The Journey of the Missing Bronze Drum

Hai's office is filled with documents, different from Diem's familiar neat space at the museum. The walls were plastered with diagrams and arrows connecting companies, names, and timelines - the results of six months of silently reviewing before the Go Lang Uyen incident happened.

"Here," he said, spreading out two sets of documents on the table, placing them side by side. "The set on the left is a certificate of origin for a batch of lacquer paintings, legally exported through Vinh Sa port three years ago, guaranteed by Hoai Co Duong gallery. The set on the right is a certificate of origin my team obtained in another case, associated with a batch of 'handicrafts' detained by Singapore customs six months ago because of suspicion, then released because there was not enough legal evidence to confiscate."

Diem bent down to compare two sets of documents, using the magnifying glass she brought to carefully examine every detail. Both use the same footer style, the same title font size, and the same layout of the notary stamp box in the lower right corner — small details that a layperson would miss, but to someone like her who prepares appraisal documents every day, they speak volumes.

"Not only is the layout the same," she said, "the wording describing the origin also has the same formula: 'belonging to a private collection, kept continuously since before the year one thousand nine hundred and ninety-three, not subject to the export ban according to current regulations.' The year one thousand nine hundred and ninety-three is no coincidence — that was the year the first Cultural Heritage Law took full effect, stipulating that all antiquities discovered after that date are state-owned, prohibiting private sale and export without a special license. For anyone who wants to legitimize an item of uncertain origin, the simplest way is to declare it has been in a private collection since before that date."

"That's right," Hai nodded, "and that's the biggest flaw in the whole system, because the law doesn't require absolute proof of authenticity for these types of declarations, just a notarized report, along with an old photo or two of an item 'in the house' from many years ago — photos, of course, that can be completely fabricated using lighting editing techniques, aging photo paper, or simply taking a photo of a similar item and falsely claiming it as itself."

Diem turned to the notary's signature page at the end of the two sets of documents. The notary's name was different, the notary office was different, but when she placed the two round seals next to each other under the light, a small detail made her stop: both seals had a thin, almost invisible, crack running diagonally through the last digit of the notary office's code.

“Same seal,” she said, her voice lowered. "Or at least, the same seal mold, used for two nominally different notary offices."

Hai leaned closer and looked more closely through the magnifying glass she gave him. "It means that there is a professional fake document making ring, sophisticated enough to create both notary stamps and notary identities that do not exist, or exist but are impersonated without their knowledge. This type of documents, without a magnifying glass and the eyes of someone trained to read small details on antique patterns, will bypass both customs and most international auction houses."

"That's exactly what it's for," Diem said. "A large, reputable auction house will not arbitrarily investigate in depth the origin of every item for sale, as long as the paperwork is complete, in a standard format, and has a valid notarized signature on the surface. They have no legal obligation to do that, unless there is a specific question raised in advance."

She sat down in the chair, rubbed her temples, trying to organize her racing thoughts. "I need to know if the notary office on Hoai Co Duong's file is real or not. If it is real, we need to ask that notary directly if he remembers signing this type of paper. If it's not real..."

"So Ta Bach Son, whether intentionally or unintentionally, used a ring to make fake documents at least once, three years ago," Hai finished his sentence, "and that ring, based on the details of the crack on the seal, was still active until the goods were detained in Singapore six months ago."

Hai immediately called a contact at the Department of Justice and asked to look up the notary office code printed on Hoai Co Duong's records. Fifteen minutes later, the answer didn't surprise them much but still sent chills down their spines: the notary office with that code actually existed and operated legally for many years, but was dissolved four years ago after the head notary passed away due to illness. Hoai Co Duong's records were created just three years ago - that is, one year later than the date the office officially closed, using an expired code but had not yet been removed from the public search system due to delays in updating administrative data.

"This is the loophole they exploited," Hai said, his voice both annoyed and somewhat respectful of his opponent's sophistication. "A real notary code, once legal, but has stopped working, searching on the public system still shows the old results because the data has not been deleted in time. Anyone who searches lightly will see 'valid code' and stop there, not digging further to find out that the office has been closed since before the date the file was created."

"So the notary's signature on that document is completely fake," Diem said. "The reporter writes the name of a deceased person, using a seal recreated from the old seal model."

"Exactly. And to do that, not every amateur is capable - it is necessary to access the judicial archives to know the exact sample of seals, signatures, office codes that have been discontinued but are still 'clean' on the mass lookup system. This is the work of an organization with resources and people who understand the administrative process from the inside, not something a single individual can do on their own in a few days."

Diem nodded, then suddenly another thought flashed. She turned over Mr. Khoat's file 48A and found Mr. Trac's notes about "customs declaration records not matching" twelve years ago. In it, he also mentioned that some batches of goods declared their origin as "private collection before one thousand nine hundred and ninety-three" - the same formula, the same way of circumventing the law, the only difference was that at that time there was no need for sophisticated notary stamps because the monitoring system was much more lax.

“The way it operates hasn't changed in twelve years,” she said, almost whispering. "It just becomes more sophisticated over time, to keep up with the increasingly strict level of surveillance by the authorities. This is not a ring that has just emerged recently, Hai. This is a ring that has had enough time to learn how to adapt, so that it will never be caught red-handed."

Hai sat down opposite her, his face serious. "So the most important question now is not who is behind it, but who has kept it going for all these years without being detected — even though at least one investigator has gotten very close, and paid with his life."

The two were silent for a moment, letting that sentence sink in in the room full of files. Outside the window, the afternoon sunlight was turning yellow, casting long shadows on the intricate diagrams of arrows taped to the wall—each arrow a piece of data, and now, for the first time in twelve years, they were beginning to piece together into an identifiable shape.

"I will check the notary office this afternoon," Hai said, standing up. "As for you, I think you should prepare yourself for a longer trip."

"Vinh Sa Port," Diem said, not a question.

“Vinh Sa Port,” he confirmed. "Where everything began, and perhaps, where everything is still going."

Before leaving Hai's office, Diem stopped by the wall map, where he had pinned red nails marking the locations of seven antiquities lost in the past three years. She realized something that perhaps Hai himself, because he was so familiar with this map, no longer noticed: all seven red points, even though scattered from the Northern mountains to the Central coastal plain, were all connected into a reasonable route leading to the same end point - Vinh Sa port.

“It all comes down to one gateway,” she said, pointing along the red nails. "It's not seven individual lines that coincidentally have the same export location. It's a collection network, gathered at a single point before spreading to the international market."

"I've thought about that," Hai said, "but haven't dared to confirm because there's a lack of direct evidence. Now we have you, we have file 48A, we have a sample of fake notary stamps - we almost have enough to confirm."

Diem put her bag on her shoulder and walked out the door, but before leaving, she turned to look at him again. "Almost enough is not enough. We need to stand right at that port, see with our own eyes, before daring to believe in anything."