Chapter 8 — The Thirteenth Landmark

Hoang Nam himself came to see An that morning. He stood outside the tea shop, not carrying an official vehicle, just holding a brown document bag. Mrs. Hanh saw him and placed the kettle firmly on the table.

“People from the center are not allowed in here,” she said.

Nam bowed his head. “I don't come as the center.”

“So in what capacity did you come?”

“A person once owed Mr. Vu.”

An pulled out a chair. “Come in.”

Nam sat opposite her, put the file bag on the table but did not open it. Phuc stood at the warehouse door, his phone turned on recording.

“I know you found the land price map,” Nam said.

“You know because you read my phone?”

“No. Because it is a copy from the warehouse.”

“You went there last night?”

“I came before you.”

An looked at his ring. Men do not wear silver rings; The left hand only has the faint mark of an old ring.

“Who used your account to sign the order?”

"I."

“You signed at the pump depot?”

“I use the old code.”

"Why?"

Nam opened the file bag. Inside is a printout of an email sent from the center's leadership account, requesting to open door number three during the drill. The content has a confidential appendix: "Create conditions for confirming flooded areas to complete reconstruction procedures."

“I didn't write this email,” Nam said. “But I signed it because if I didn't, they would replace me with someone else.”

“When did you sign?”

“Since three months ago.”

An felt his hand tightening his grip on the pen. “Three months ago was when RiverEye started testing.”

"Correct."

“And my father?”

"Mr. Vu has known about this for a long time."

Mrs. Hanh stood up. “Don't talk like he started it.”

Nam turned to her. "I didn't say he started it. I said he knew how they operated."

“Why didn't he report it?” An asked.

Nam looked down at the file. “Because he signed it once.”

An was silent. That sentence was similar to her mother's words but without the layer of fear covering it.

“Old order,” she said. “He signed to save the industrial park?”

"To save the hospital's generator, yes. But before he signed, he received a sum of money from the investment group. They put him in a position of no return. When the flood happened, they turned that signature into the only evidence."

“You know and still stand in the center?”

“I tried to fix the log.”

“It didn't work.”

"I was able to fix part of it. Site 13 kept the real copy."

An opened the file box. There was a work diary of her father, the handwriting was familiar. On September 10, he wrote: "Duy proposed a temporary solution. Not accepted." Day 11: "Nam reports orders from superiors. No original documents." On the 12th, only one line remained: "Hanh, take An away from the north bank."

“Why is there no diary in the judgment?”

“Because it disappeared.”

“Where do you keep it?”

Nam pointed to the file bag. “I took a photo before delivering the warehouse.”

Phuc stepped forward. “Do you know who is wearing the ring?”

Nam looked at him. "Dang Quoc Duy. Hai Duy's right-hand man. Relative, but not the same name in the records."

“So why do people call him Duy?” An asked.

“So that every contract doesn't go straight to the president.”

An remembers the man at Milestone 13, on the video and in front of the shop. Not Chairman Hai Duy. A person with a similar name, enough for people to confuse him.

“I need the full name.”

Nam took out a list of contractor personnel. Line 17 reads: Dang Quoc Duy, in charge of site clearance and trial operation.

“He has no regulatory function.”

“On paper, no.”

Bich called. An turns on the speaker.

“I just received the transcript signature,” Bich said. “There is a second signature underneath the deleted data layer. Hoang Nam signed at 5:13, but the confirmation signature of user DQD-01 was available at 4:59."

“Who is DQD-01?”

“Dang Quoc Duy. I'm checking.”

Nam closed his eyes. “They've been trying door number three since four fifty-nine.”

“What was the water level at that time?” An asked.

“Not yet crossed the threshold.”

“So they open to create a threshold.”

Nam nodded. “If the Can lagoon rises first, the system will automatically send a warning. After the warning, the city has the right to temporarily withdraw areas at risk."

“And the North Shore became cheap land.”

“Tan Giang is called reconstruction.”

Mrs. Hanh picked up the tea maker and put it down firmly. “You all say beautiful words to do bad things.”

Nam looked at her, his eyes red. “I know.”

An did not allow the conversation to drift to pity. “What do you want?”

“I want you to release the data before they trigger cycle 13.”

“Why don't you announce it yourself?”

“I will be arrested for unauthorized access. Listeners will think I took revenge for losing my position.”

“And I am the son of a dead man.”

"Correct. They will use that against you too.”

Nam gave An a small storage device. “In here is the raw log of three months. But the most important part lies in the hollow cavity under the auxiliary dam. I can't get in yet.”

“Khoi will take me.”

"Are not."

“You have no right to prohibit it.”

“That compartment contains a chemical discharge pipe. If the pressure valve is opened, people inside will suffocate.”

“Does Tan Giang have a chemical lake?”

“A temporary treatment pond. Not included in environmental records.”

An feels the story goes beyond land grabbing. If the lake is discharged into the canal, people will not only lose their homes.

Khoi walked in just as Nam stood up.

“I heard the last part,” he said. “Where is the chamber below the dam?”

Nam did not answer.

Khoi went one step further. “My sister died from dirty water after the flood. If they still hide chemicals, I have the right to know.”

“The right to know doesn't help you breathe in a closed compartment.”

“Then come with us.”

Nam shook his head. “I can't.”

“I signed the whole system. Now you're afraid of a pipeline?”

Nam looked at Khoi, then at An. “I'm afraid you won't have a chance to choose anymore.”

He left the shop. Khoi turned to An.

“He was half telling the truth.”

“I know.” Bich replied through the phone speaker. “But the other half could be what saves us.”

That afternoon, An went with Khoi to the auxiliary dam. A concrete door located under the technical bridge, opened only by magnetic card. Khoi used the old rescue team's card, but the indicator light turned red.

“There's a new system,” he said.

An applied Nam's storage device to the reading box. The light turns green. The door opens.

Inside are narrow passages, damp walls, and pipes running close to the ceiling. The chemical smell becomes clearer with each step. When I turned on the gas meter, the oxygen index decreased slightly.

“Five minutes,” he said. “Nothing more.”

At the end of the path, they saw a steel compartment containing three gray tanks. On the tank there is the Tan Giang logo and the code "processed water — do not drain". A new pipe connects directly to the sewer line.

An took pictures and read the pressure gauge. Kim is approaching the red zone.

“They are about to release.”

Khoi pulled her back. A valve opening sounded behind. White foam flowed from the tube.

An slipped and fell, hitting his shoulder against the wall. Khoi pulled her up, but the exit door was closed.

The walkie-talkie echoed in Southern language, the voice hoarse from coughing:

“Don't use the main door. Someone is locking it from the outside.”

"Where are you?" Khoi shouted.

“I'm opening the secondary road. When the light turns white, run west.”

Internal lights cavity changes from red to white.

An remembers Loc's words: Don't open the valve when the signal light is white.

But the only exit has just been locked.

Khoi held her hand. “We have to go.”

Behind them, the pressure gauge hit the red line.

An looked at the chemical flow running in the tube. She understands why her father once wrote "water does not know how to love anyone". Water only follows the path people open.

And today, someone is opening all the roads at the same time.

They took Khoi to Mrs. Hanh's clinic to have his shoulder stitched. The wound wasn't deep, but the piece of metal left a long tear. Khoi sat quietly as the nurse washed away the blood, only frowning when the antiseptic touched his skin.

“You probably don't need to prove you're not afraid,” An said.

“I'm not afraid of needles.”

“I said water.”

Khoi looked at her. “I'm afraid of people who are confident that they know water.”

Mrs. Hanh was next door, heard but did not interfere. She placed a cup of ginger tea in front of An.

“You don't need to do it all in one day,” she said.

“They do everything in one day.”

“They have a whole team.”

“I have everyone too.”

Mrs. Hanh looked at Khoi, Bich and Nam. “My team is full of people who have lost something.”

No one denies.

Nam opened the copied log. In the records, a chemical discharge order was sent from the HN-CTRL account at 10:13 p.m., but the confirmation signature was dated six minutes earlier. Someone created an order in the future and then brought it back to the present.

“Why use the correct code 13?” Bich asked.

“Let the system consider it an urgent event,” Nam replied.

An realized the number 13 appeared everywhere: Milestone 13, thirteen seconds of sound, period 13, code 319742 with a total of 26 digits but separated into 13 and 13. That's not superstition. That is a habit of the system creator, a sign to recognize fake orders.

“My father used 13 as his signature?”

Nam nodded. “He said only those who read books would understand.”

“So the cycle creator is imitating my father.”

“Or use your notebook.”

An remembers that the notebook disappeared during the night of the search. Some people keep copies, or have read every page.

Bich called Phan Loc. He didn't pick up the phone. On the fourth call, he texted: "Don't call anymore. There is someone standing outside the house."

An asked for the address, but Loc did not answer. Khoi took the car keys.

They arrived at Loc's house when it was just dark. An ambulance parked at the entrance of the alley, engine turned off. The house gate is locked. An knocked three times according to the agreed rhythm, but no one opened it.

Khoi climbed over the wall, then opened the latch from inside. Loc lay in the living room, one hand clutching his chest, next to him was a spilled glass of water. There were no signs of being beaten, but the right hand was stiff.

An called an ambulance. While waiting, she saw a piece of paper under the chair with the number 319742 written on it.

Loc regained consciousness when medical staff arrived. He held An's hand.

“Milestone 13 isn't something your father hid,” he whispered. “It was something he wanted others to find.”

“Who else?”

“Last shift person.”

“Hoang Nam?”

Loc shook his head, trying to breathe. "The person left the center before the water rose. The person has the key to the engine room."

An looked at Nam, who was standing outside the door. He was motionless.

Loc was taken away. Bich grabbed the piece of paper, and Khoi found a small notebook under the table. The last page reads: “Son did not do it alone.”

On the way home, Nam spoke for a long time before he could form a sentence:

“The person on duty at the end of that year was me.”

An didn't ask right away. She watched the water recede on the road.

“You left the center before the water rose?”

“I took a copy of the data to the hospital.”

“And let my father stay again?"

“He told me to go.”

“Did you hear him say that, or was that something you needed to live on?”

Nam looked out the car window. “I heard it.”

An doesn't know what to believe. But she knows that from now on, every step Nam takes is part of the evidence.