Chapter 12 — The One Who Counts Bridges

Vu Yen did not get Thinh's call records from a secret database. She sat in Phuong's living room, using a pencil to write down each line on the statement that his family had legally requested. Phuong placed a plate of green guava next to her, saying that if journalists continue to eat and drink lightly, sooner or later they will have a stomachache.

“I don't need the caller's name,” Yen said. “I need to see what data you agree to use.”

Phuong nodded. "You can use your work-related calling schedule. Don't give out your family's account number."

“I will cover.”

“And don't call him a victim if you don't know what he died of.”

Yen stopped writing. “What do you want to call it?”

"Called Thinh. He hates being turned into a role in someone else's story."

On the statement, calls to the number of Ha Luu Technical Services Company appeared thick in the last four days. The first number at 9:17 pm lasted seventeen minutes. After that, there were three messages whose content was not displayed because they were deleted.

Linh An looked at the number at the cooperative and opened the paper map next to it. The company is located in the Dong Ha area, more than six kilometers from Thinh's apartment, but less than two kilometers from Mr. Bay's house.

“Who did he meet there?” Khai asked.

“We don't know.”

“Find the person in charge of the company.”

Yen shook her head. "Do Lan's name is on the business records, but the actual owner is not necessarily her."

“Has Do Lan met Thinh?”

"There is no direct call. The company number receives information through the switchboard system."

Linh An asked Ms. Phuong if she knew which messaging application Thinh used. Phuong gave her the old, unlocked phone. Deleted messages cannot be recovered, but in the notes folder there is an unsent sentence:

“Design is not insurance for the signer.”

Below is a number: 12.4.

Khai read and said it could be altitude, slope or amount of money.

“Thinh usually records altitude in meters, not using dots like this,” Linh An said.

“What do you think?” Yen asked.

“Bridge Number Seven, span four, height 12.4.”

“Based on what?”

"Not based on anything. Just a hypothesis."

Yen underlined the word "hypothesis".

They went to Dong Ha bank branch to meet Nam. He asked for a copy of the money transfer documents after Thinh's family signed permission to provide relevant data. The consulting room has glass walls, every word can be heard clearly at the counter next to it.

“The design insurance money is not transferred directly to Do Lan,” Nam said. “It went through an intermediary account of the Technical Services Company, then divided into three small amounts.”

“Three recipients?” Yen asked.

“One amount goes to the testing unit, one goes to the maintenance company, and one goes back to the personal account.”

“Recipient name?”

Nam handed over partially covered paper. Personal name only has the first two letters: Tran D. M. Amount 12.4 million.

Linh An did not speak. Yen looked at her, then asked Nam: "Is that Tran Duc Minh?"

“I do not confirm identity from covered paper.”

“But the abbreviations are the same.”

“Coincidence is not a conclusion.”

Nam pointed to the description line: "material return fee".

“What supplies?” Linh An asked.

“The records don't say it.”

“Sensor Moc-07?”

Nam shrugged. “The bank doesn't know the device.”

Khai leaned back. “If this item involves sensors, it shows that the device was purchased with design dollars.”

“Or just a real refund,” Yen reminded.

Nam put away the paper. "I can confirm the process. Can't confirm the story you're assembling."

“I once met Thinh before he died?” Linh An asked.

Nam looked out the glass wall. “He came to ask for payment. I said the file is valid. He said the paper could be valid but the action was still wrong."

“Did he give more documents?”

“A USB copy. I'm not open. I leave it to the compliance department.”

“Did that department respond?”

“Not before he died.”

“Where is the USB?”

"I do not know."

Linh An records the part name and delivery date. Nam agreed to let them state that the bank had received a storage device from Thinh, but could not infer the content.

On the sidewalk after the meeting, Yen said: "The deeper you go, the more people only do one small thing."

“And it's the small things that build the road,” Linh An replied.

Khai pointed to the service company building in the distance. “Let's go.”

Ha Luu Technical Services Company registered in a two-story house, the lower floor sells electrical equipment, the upper floor has a small nameplate. Do Lan came out directly. She was about forty, her hair was cut to shoulder length, she spoke slowly, and didn't seem surprised to see them.

“I knew you guys would come,” Lan said.

“Who reported?”

“Huy.”

“What did he say?”

“Tell you guys I'll ask about the company.”

“Can you show me the Moc-07 device file?”

Lan invited them into the room, but did not allow them to take pictures. She gave the inventory book, in which Moc-07 received on June 3, shipped on June 9 to the Infrastructure Department. There are no liquidation items.

“So why did the Infrastructure Department say the equipment was liquidated?” Yen asked.

“I don't know.”

“Do you know that Thinh received the device?”

“He signed for an experimental team.”

“Who asked?”

“Consulting unit.”

“Which unit?”

Lan looked at the book. “Not recorded.”

Linh An saw in the corner of the room a whiteboard with a bridge diagram and numbers. She didn't step closer, just looked. The diagram marks nine spans, but on the east side there is a square erased with a wet towel.

“Do you know the connection under Bridge Seven?”

"Know."

“Have you ever used it?”

“I grew up in this area.”

“Why do company records call it an unused building?”

Lan closes the book. “I don't write records.”

“But you signed for the equipment.”

“I signed because the staff needed a signature.”

“Do you know that design insurance money is transferred to the company?”

Lan looked at Yen. “I know.”

“Three accounts divided?”

“I'm not in charge of accounting.”

“But your signature is on the paper.”

Lan laughed dryly. “My signature is on many papers because I am the name of the company. It doesn't mean I decide everything.”

“Who decides?”

“Huy.”

“Are you talking about your own brother?”

“I'm talking my corporate users.”

The small room suddenly got hotter. Lan took a receipt and pointed to the device line.

“I don't want the company to get involved in this. But if you want to know, Moc-07 was not transferred to the Infrastructure Department. It went straight into storage under Bridge Seven.”

“Who gave it?”

“A consortium truck.”

“License plate?”

“I don't remember.”

“Are there cameras?”

Lan pointed to the door. “The camera next door. My company failed last year.”

“Can you show us the delivery date?”

“I give it.”

“What about the transfer documents?”

"Are not."

"Why?"

“Because I don't want to get myself into a lawsuit.”

Linh An asked: "If you don't give it, someone else can use your name to say you received the money."

Lan looked at her, her face changed. “Huy said it was just a refund. I didn't know it was related to Thinh."

“Do you know he's dying?”

"Are not."

“Is he here?”

Lan looked down at the table. “Yes. He asked me who signed it transfer paper Moc-07. I said me. He told me I should keep the copy.”

“Do you keep it?”

Lan stood up and opened the drawer. Inside was only an empty envelope. “The copy has been taken.”

“Who took it?”

“I don't see.”

“When did you realize it?”

“After Thinh died, someone from the joint venture came to clean up the files. They said it was procedure.”

“Did you sign the handover?”

"Are not."

Lan said the names of two people: Hung and an employee named Quan Anh. Yen noted, permission to use name. Lan agreed, but only in the documents sent to the authorities, not yet broadcast.

Before leaving, Lan called Linh An back. “Huy did not edit the map himself.”

“Why did you say that?”

“Because you need to know he didn't do everything. He believes the project will save the city. He just thought he could put some of the deviations under another heading.”

“What about you?”

“I think the person in charge is often called before the person giving the orders.”

Outside, Yen said Lan had just given information while protecting her brother. Linh An replied that that is the way family members live together: not saying everything but not saying it completely wrong either.

In the afternoon, the Infrastructure Committee sent an invitation to the second internal inspection session. Additional content: "Request to provide an independent map to prove the tenth bridge."

“They want me to give evidence myself,” Yen said.

“They know we have.”

Khai looked at old stock photos. “They wanted to put it on their records, then decided it wasn't valuable.”

Linh An neither agreed nor objected. She needed an independent measurement that was strong enough to not be deceived by saying "temporary items".

They returned to the mudflats late in the afternoon, this time with Inspector Thuan accompanying them. He brought a leveling machine and an official introduction. The corrugated iron fence has been moved, and the old warehouse has been covered with a new concrete slab. The cement stain is still wet.

“They switched sensors,” Khai said.

Conveniently inspect the concrete layer. “Just within six hours.”

Linh An looked at the ground and saw truck wheels going from the warehouse to the cargo gate. The tire tracks are deep, there is a turn through old stairs. She measured the distance between the two cake tracks and recorded it in her notebook.

“The truck weighs 3.5 tons,” Khai said. “It could be an equipment box plus a frame.”

“No more boxes,” Yen replied. “But we still have its way.”

Thuan opened the project map and confirmed that the old warehouse was not in the project list. He made a record of the scene, recording the time 18:42, signed by three people and taking photos with location.

“This is enough to petition for sealing,” he said.

“But the equipment is gone,” Linh An replied.

“So we recommend searching for assets.”

“What if they say it's a litter box?”

“They have to prove that the trash box has the serial number of the flood measuring network.”

Linh An looked at the new concrete slab. Next to the cement edge, a streak of black paint appeared: five strokes, empty space, four strokes.

Nine.

Under the streak of paint there was a piece of copper wire left behind. Thuan picked it up with tongs, put it in an evidence bag and signed and sealed it.

That night, Yen received a call from Thinh's number. No one spoke on the other end of the line. There was only the sound of running water and a metallic knock three times.

Linh An told her to put the phone on speaker. She recognized the sound: the sound of a red valve under Bridge Seven.

The call lasted seventeen seconds, then died.

A new message appears on the screen: “The device is no longer in stock. But the data ran.”