Chapter 10 — The Photograph Without a Third Person

Three days later, Minh Tuan called to inform him that he had obtained a legal survey permit for the Lam Dien project, thanks to his relationship with a former classmate who is currently working as a construction inspector. "The permit is only valid for one morning," he advised over the phone. "We need to make the most of the time."

Saturday morning, Ha, Dieu Thao and Minh Tuan drove to the suburban area where Lam Dien project is located. The road leading into this area is strangely deserted, both sides of the road are overgrown with weeds, and not a single signpost remains intact.

When the building came into view, all three were silent for a moment. It was a twelve-story structure, the exterior looked finished with a fairly new coat of paint, but the entire surrounding campus was covered in weeds and trash accumulated over the years, with no signs that anyone had ever lived here. An old corrugated iron fence surrounds the building, some of which have fallen off, revealing a dusty inner yard.

"It looks like it was abandoned right after completion," Dieu Thao said, her voice quiet in front of this desolate scene.

The construction guard, an elderly man, checked Minh Tuan's documents carefully before opening the gate to let them in. "No one's been here in a long time," he said, his voice filled with disbelief. "What are you guys looking for?"

"We survey the structure at the request of the construction department," Minh Tuan replied, keeping the official reason stated in the permit.

The old man shrugged and led them inside. "Be careful. There are some weak foundation areas, I have reported them many times but no one takes action."

That statement caught Ha's attention immediately. "What do you mean the foundation is weak?"

"Since the construction was almost completed, there have been cracks," the old man replied, leading them to the ground floor area. "At that time, a whole team of engineers came to urgently check and worked for several days and nights. After that, the construction was suddenly stopped, no one explained the reason."

The three people followed the old man deep inside the building. The musty air permeated the space, weak light filtered through the dust-covered windows. Arriving at the main pillar area on the ground floor, Minh Tuan stopped and pointed to a large crack running along the body of the concrete pillar, which had been lightly patched with a layer of different-colored mortar.

“Here,” he said, his voice serious. "Severe structural cracks like this, if not handled according to technical standards, can lead to the collapse of all or part of the building."

Dieu Thao took photos from each angle, carefully noted the location and detailed descriptions. Ha stood silently looking at the crack, feeling cold when thinking about what could have happened here four years ago - an incident serious enough to force an entire corporation to hide the entire project, serious enough for the chief engineer responsible to "disappear" from his own life.

"Do you remember the name of the engineer in charge of inspecting this project?" Ha asked the old guard.

The old man thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, a young man, very talented, very strict. He was the first to discover this crack, demanding to stop construction immediately to reinforce the entire structure. But the board of directors did not agree, saying it would slow down progress and cost more." He sighed, his voice full of regret. "Then I heard that he had an accident and died. What a pity, such a good engineer."

"Do you know what happened to the building after he passed away?" Minh Tuan continued asking.

"They temporarily patched a few cracks, then declared that the project had met safety standards and was ready for handover," the old man replied, his voice filled with suppressed anger. "But I've worked here for many years. I know that doing superficial filling and patching like that cannot guarantee safety. Luckily, the project was then suspended for reasons I don't know. No one has moved in, otherwise..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but all three of them understood what he meant.

While Dieu Thao continued to take photos of other cracks discovered on higher floors, Ha quietly walked to the old construction site office area, where there were still a few desks covered in dust. In a forgotten drawer, she found a yellowed technical file with the words on the cover: "Structural inspection report — Phan Gia Bao — Internal confidentiality."

Her hands trembled as she flipped open each page. It is a detailed report, with Phan Gia Bao's signature and seal of approval, clearly stating the severity of the structural cracks, with a recommendation to immediately stop construction and conduct comprehensive reinforcement before continuing. On the last page, there is a note handwritten in red ink, not in Gia Bao's handwriting: "Presented to the Board of Directors. The request was denied due to schedule and cost reasons. — T.D."

"T.D.," Ha muttered, her heart pounding. "Tran Dat."

She took pictures of each page of documents with her phone, her hands still shaking from excitement and anger. This is concrete, irrefutable evidence that shows that Tran Dat knew clearly about the serious dangers of the project, but still decided to ignore Gia Bao's warnings for financial gain.

"What did you find?" Minh Tuan asked when he saw Ha's emotional expression.

She showed him the file and briefly explained what she had just discovered. Minh Tuan skimmed through it, his face gradually becoming serious. "This is key evidence," he said. "If it is indeed Tran Dat's handwriting, we can prove that he knew in advance about the danger but still deliberately ignored it, leading to having to stage the entire story to hide responsibility."

Ha carefully put the documents in the moisture-proof bag she brought with her, her hands still shaking with emotion. She thought of Gia Bao - the principled young engineer who tried his best to protect the safety of the people who would live in this project, but in the end was dismissed by those with more power and turned into a scapegoat for their mistakes.

"We need to get out of here before anyone finds out," Minh Tuan said, looking at his watch. "The license is about to expire."

On the way out of the construction site, Ha turned to look back at the high-rise building standing quietly in the afternoon sunlight, like a silent witness to a secret that had been buried for four years. She felt a new determination, stronger than ever, rising in her heart.

She found the evidence. Now, the only thing missing is confirmation from the person who survived this entire tragedy — and perhaps, the secret date that Nam promised to arrange, is her chance to get just that.

On the car back to the city, no one said much. Dieu Thao sat in the back seat, still reviewing each photo she had taken, occasionally shaking her head at the severity of what they had just witnessed. Minh Tuan drove in silence, occasionally glancing at Ha through the rearview mirror, as if considering something.

"What are you going to do with that file?" he asked finally, when the car had left the suburbs and joined the busy traffic of the city.

"I think we need to keep it safe first," Ha replied, still holding the moisture-proof bag tightly as if afraid the documents inside would disappear if she relaxed for even a second. "I don't want to make it public right away, because if I do so before there is enough comprehensive evidence, they may try to deny or smear the source of the document."

"You're right," Minh Tuan nodded. "We need to build a solid case, not just technical documents but also witness testimony. If Phan Gia Bao — or Nam, as he calls him — is willing to speak up, that will be the most important piece of the puzzle."

Ha nodded, looking out the car window, her mind still lingering on the image of the abandoned building standing quietly among the weeds, like a silent witness to many years of silence and lies. She thought of the families who could have moved into that building, of the safety they would have enjoyed if it had not been for deliberately ignoring technical warnings.

"I just hope," she said softly, almost whispering to herself, "that when all of this is over, no one else will have to pay with their lives for daring to tell the truth."

Dieu Thao, from the back seat, placed her hand on Ha's shoulder, a quiet comforting gesture. No one said anything more until the car arrived at the city center, but in their hearts all three had a common determination: this journey to find the truth, no matter how arduous, had gone too far to turn back.