Chapter 2 — The Thirteenth Landmark

Mrs. Hanh did not ask any more questions when An entered the tea shop. She just pulled the iron door halfway down, put the "early break" sign outside and told Phuc to bring the ice box into the warehouse. The tall, thin boy wiped his hands on an old t-shirt and looked at his sister from head to toe.

“Did you just go fight with someone?”

"Are not."

“Your face is exactly like when you discovered your computer had lost data.”

“Phuc.”

“Okay, shut up.”

Mrs. Hanh poured three cups of tea, even though An knew she wouldn't drink it. The small shop is located next to the ferry wharf, opening to the Vam Do River. The ceiling fan rotated slowly, pushing the smell of pandan leaves and motor oil around the room. The items here haven't changed much: the glass cake cabinet, the old thermos, and the radio that only picks up one channel. Only the wall behind the counter has been repainted, the light yellow color does not completely cover the moisture stains.

“Where do you know Milestone 13?” An asked.

Mrs. Hanh looked at Phuc. He understood, took the keys and went out to the yard. The sound of his sandals faded away.

"Your father worked at the old regulation station. That landmark was before RiverEye was born."

“Why is it still there?”

"Because people forget. Or intentionally forget."

An placed a piece of oil paper on the table. Mrs. Hanh did not touch it. Just looking at the series of numbers, her face changed.

“Have you seen this before?”

"It's not exactly the same. Your father has a book that records water times. He uses the numbers seven, three, and nine to mark each station. I don't understand."

“Do you know what the number 319742 is?”

"I don't know. But that day and month..."

She paused, as if she was about to say something and then changed her mind.

“The day your father opened the sewer,” An said.

“It wasn't just him who opened it.”

That was the first time Ms. Hanh said this clearly. Over the past twelve years, every time An asked, she replied that technical matters should be taken care of by professionals. She thought it was fear. Now she realized it was also a cover-up.

“What does that mean, Mom?”

"That means the order to open the sewer has two signatures. Your father signed the last copy, but before that someone at the Operations Center sent an urgent order. They changed the time in the copy. Your father knew, but he still signed."

"Why?"

"Because at that time, the central hospital only had thirty minutes of backup power. If we don't lower the water level in the industrial park, the generator will flood. If we don't keep the water, the North Coast will bear it."

An felt his throat dry. She used to think the case had one valve, one person, one mistake. No one said the city had to choose which place to save.

“And then?”

"Then they needed someone to take charge. Your father was silent."

“Are you being forced?”

“Not just forced.” Mrs. Hanh looked out at the river. “He accepted the money.”

An laughed briefly, without any joy. “What did mom just say?”

"A sum of money to fix the roof and take Phuc to the hospital. At that time he was only three years old, his lungs were weak. My father said that if he didn't accept it, they would close my welfare application. I don't know what he signed. I only knew there was money in the house, then he was arrested."

“Since when did you know?”

“Since before the trial.”

An stood up, the plastic chair scratched a mark on the tile floor.

“Mom kept silent for twelve years?”

“I have to raise two children.”

"What about you? You have to grow up thinking that your father is a fool who flooded the whole city."

“I know.”

“Do you know that I studied hydrology because I wanted to prove him not wrong?”

“I know.”

“Then why didn't you say anything?”

Mrs. Hanh tightly grasped the edge of the table. "Because if I knew too early, I would go look for those people. Mom has already lost her husband. She doesn't want to lose more child.”

An could not answer. She went to the yard, where Phuc was turning on the faucet to wash the old pump. He looked at her face, but didn't ask.

“Phuc, have you ever been to the canal behind the Tan Giang fence?”

"Have. When I was still fishing. Now the security guards will chase you away.”

“Do you know anyone who hangs around there?”

“White pickup trucks. There is one with an unclear logo. Why?"

"Nothing."

Phuc put down the wrench. “You're not as good at lying as you think.”

“Don't go there again.”

“Are you investigating?”

“I'm working on a contract.”

“What contract did you just close early?”

An looked at his younger brother. Phuc smiled faintly, but there was no joking in his eyes.

“Someone asked about me,” she said. “If someone asks me about Milestone 13, I don't know anything.”

“I didn't know anything at all.”

“Phuc.”

"Already."

An returned to the counter. Mrs. Hanh opened the drawer under the tea pot and took out a small bronze key with a semicircle engraved on the top of the key.

“Your father left this behind.”

“Why didn't you ever give me one?”

“Because I don't know what it opens.”

“Mom said he has a notebook.”

“The notebook was taken the night of the search. Only the key and an old receipt remain.”

She put the key in An's hand. The metal was cold, lighter than she expected.

“Where is the receipt?”

“In the cookie box.”

Phuc laughed from the field. “Does our house have to keep secrets and smell like butter?”

Mrs. Hanh glared at her child, then rummaged in the cupboard for a dented tin box. Inside were a few bills, an old photo of Mr. Vu standing next to the measuring station, and a receipt for warehouse No. 4 of the Department of Irrigation, dated three months before the flood.

An read the sender's name: Lam Quang Vu. Item: mechanical pressure recording device, 1 set. Location: northern sub-depository, semi-circular key.

“Where is the northern sub-depot?”

“The old regulation station, behind the abandoned water plant.”

“Tan Giang built a road through there.”

“Then don't go.”

An stuffed the receipt into his pocket. “I just took a look.”

“An.”

“I won't make any noise. I just need to know why Milestone 13 is still running.”

Mrs. Hanh did not stop anymore. She collected the tea cup, her movements were slow and precise like someone who had been preparing for this conversation for many years.

An drove to the Operations Center at nearly seven o'clock in the evening. The new building was built on the riverbank, the front is covered with blue glass. The lobby has a miniature model of the future Lower River: the river is straightened, the North Bank turns into a row of high-rise towers, the old culverts disappear under white blocks.

Hoang Nam is waiting for her at the security counter.

“I thought you were going back to the hotel.”

“I want to see the raw log for station nine.”

“I told you it was network latency.”

“So the raw log will confirm.”

Nam looked at the key sticking out of her pocket. “Where did you go?”

“A survey location.”

“What position?”

“I thought the center had a map.”

Nam did not smile. “Miss Lam, this system is the property of the city. Every access has a log. You cannot arbitrarily enter the construction zone.”

“I don't access the system. I measure the water level.”

“Milestone 13 is not within the scope of acceptance.”

An looked straight at him. “You know it?”

Nam raised his hand to fix the cuff of his shirt. “I know every old piece of equipment in the basin.”

“So why isn't it on the map?”

“Because it's no longer in use.”

“Kim is still running.”

“A broken clock can be right twice a day.”

“It says 2.47. My device reads 2.29.”

“What do you want me to do? Stop the whole project because of an old float?”

An opened the tablet and showed him the photo of Milestone 13. Nam just looked for a second and then turned away.

“I need to log rough,” she repeated.

“Tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Because the person with the power to provide the data has returned.”

“You are the deputy director.”

“I am responsible if data is leaked before acceptance.”

An understood that the conversation had reached its limit. She put away her tablet and was about to leave when her phone vibrated. A message from an unknown number appeared:

Don't open warehouse number 4. There are things down there that shouldn't come up.

An gave the screen to Nam. He didn't pick up the phone, just looked at the text.

“Do you know the sender?”

"Are not."

“I think you know.”

Nam stepped closer and lowered his voice: "You want to save your father's honor, I understand. But don't mistake your needs for the city's interests.”

“If the city's interest requires a number to be corrected, then it is not a benefit.”

“You don't know who you're facing yet.”

"I know. I saw the logo on the fence.”

An exited the building and drove back to the old regulation station. The northern sub-depot is located behind a series of concrete walls, with an iron door with a rusty lock. Semi-circular key fits snugly.

There is no new equipment in the warehouse, only measuring pipes, manual valves and dusty file racks. An turned on the flashlight. The smell of wet metal and machine oil mixed together. In the corner of the room, there is a small, unlocked iron cabinet. Inside were tapes, a box of dry batteries and an old tape recorder with a handwritten label: “12.09 — if I don't come home.”

An pressed the play button. The rumbling sound continued, then her father's voice rang out, hoarse and tired:

“Hanh, if An hears this, don't let her just find one person at fault. The water level doesn't know who to love. It just remembers everything we did.”

The recording interrupts.

An try playing again. There was only a hissing sound.

Outside the warehouse, there was a slight sound of a metal lock turning.

An turned off the flashlight and hid behind the pipe rack. Through the crack in the door, white light swept into the background. There were two people standing outside.

“The door is open,” one said.

“Find the tape.”

An held the tape recorder tightly. She heard footsteps coming in, slow and steady. In the darkness, she looked at the key in her palm and understood that her father did not leave it for her to find the past.

He left it behind so she knew her past was still looking for her.