Chapter 12 — The Secret Pension

He just went to the bank to block his card.

Then he logged back into the system to add an explanatory note.

And you are still trying to claim he has nothing to do with this?

Han Duc Hai let out a cold, derisive laugh.

If you have evidence, follow the proper legal procedures. Do not come here and cause a scene in the hospital.

My father suddenly stepped forward, shielding me behind him.

Thanh, stop arguing with him.

His voice was hoarse, yet unwavering and resolute. We are going straight to the social security office.

I was deeply worried about my mother. Vy immediately volunteered, I will stay here and watch over your mother. The attending physician also reassured us that the patient was temporarily stable and must not be subjected to any further distress or disturbance. My father lingered by the hospital door, his eyes swimming with profound grief. He gazed at my mother through the glass panel for a long, agonizing moment before turning to accompany me. Before leaving, he instructed the security guard, Aside from my daughter and her friend, do not allow anyone associated with Han Duc Hai to approach my wife under any circumstances. The guard nodded and jotted it down in his logbook. Han Duc Hai stood at the far end of the corridor with a dark, thunderous expression. Ma Xao Van opened her mouth as if to hurl more abuse, but Han Viet pulled her back. They did not pursue us further. Yet I understood all too well that they had not given up. They were simply waiting for their next move.

By the time we reached the social security hall, it was nearly closing time. The manager in charge led us directly into his private office. His name was La Minh.

La Minh turned his computer monitor toward us. The two of you, take a look at this.

On the digital ledger, a newly appended remark had been inserted. It stated that the modification of the benefit collection card had been personally verified and confirmed by the account holder himself; due to exceptional circumstances, no photographic evidence was captured, and the account holder assumed full personal responsibility. The note had been logged by Phuong Ve Dong at exactly three-forty-seven this afternoon. At that precise moment, he should have been trapped at the bank, detained by security guards while trying to explain away his reported lost card.

I spoke up instantly, He could not possibly have been present at the social security hall at that hour.

La Minh nodded grimly. Which makes the situation infinitely more severe. His personal employee login ID was used.

My father frowned. Can other people just use his credentials at will?

Normally, no, La Minh explained. Unless he remained logged in beforehand, or someone else managed to acquire unauthorized access to his account.

Is it possible to trace the login location? I asked.

La Minh hesitated for a fraction of a second. Internal protocols prohibit me from casually disclosing such data.

I slammed the transfer request form, the medication suspension notice, the bank documents, and the accident records provided by Cao Kien Dan down onto the desk.

Director La, my mother just underwent major surgery and nearly fell victim to their forced relocation scheme. My father was unjustly denied his rightful allowances for twelve full years. And today, Phuong Ve Dong attempted to forge supplementary paperwork right under our noses. If you continue to hide behind internal bureaucracy and red tape, I will have no choice but to escalate this matter to the higher authorities.

La Minh fell silent for a few heavy seconds before opening a different window on his screen. He pointed directly to the login history log.

Three-forty-seven p.m. The login location was not this main hall. It originated from the social security liaison office located within the old factory district.

The color drained entirely from my father's face. There is still an active liaison office out in the factory grounds?

That is a community service outpost preserved after the restructuring of the old state-owned enterprise, La Minh replied. Normally, it only handles retirement verification certificates and archive transfers.

Who was on duty today? I demanded.

La Minh scanned the roster. The officer scheduled for today was Lu Kien Quoc.

My father's hand slammed heavily onto the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white. He used to be the deputy director of the factory administrative office. The pilot run report back then was handed directly to him.

A heavy, suffocating silence descended upon the office. At last, the scattered threads in my mind snapped together into a coherent picture. The missing accident report. The tampered benefit card. The sudden appearance of the joint verification document. Phuong Ve Dong's backdated notes. These were not maneuvers that Han Duc Hai could have orchestrated entirely on his own. Lurking behind him was a veteran insider from the old factory days.

La Minh began photographing each page of our documentation to secure an official record. Miss Han, the two of you must not go near the old factory district under any circumstances. I will contact the unit's disciplinary inspection department immediately.

My father shook his head slowly. It is already too late. They are already moving to patch their loopholes.

Before La Minh could offer further advice, hurried footsteps echoed sharply from outside the door. The female receptionist burst into the office, her face completely bleached of color.

Director La, the liaison office at the old factory district just called. They said the internal wiring in the storage warehouse has deteriorated and is starting to smoke.

I bolted upright from my chair. What is stored inside that warehouse?

The woman looked at me, her voice taut with anxiety. All the paper archives and personnel records from the period leading up to and immediately following the restructuring twelve years ago.

All the remaining blood drained from my father's face. The original copy of my machine-shutdown report might still be in there.

La Minh grabbed his car keys without hesitation. I am coming with the two of you.

When we rushed out of the social security hall, night had completely fallen. The car sped directly toward the old factory district. From a distance, I could see a thick plume of gray smoke billowing into the evening sky from the back courtyard of the factory. Several figures were already milling around the rusted iron gates. Among them, a familiar silhouette caught my eye instantly.

Han Duc Hai was standing right outside the warehouse entrance, clutching a black document satchel in his hand, preparing to shove it into the trunk of his car.