Chapter
24: Handing the Eggs to the Fox
It rang three times before anyone picked up.
Minh Quan’s voice came through, tired and cold.
“Who is this?”
“You don’t keep my number saved anymore, Uncle?”
The other end went dead silent.
After a moment, he said:
“What do you want, calling me?”
“There’s just one thing I wanted to ask you, Uncle.”
“Make it quick.”
Khai Minh leaned back in his chair, his face unruffled.
“You’re scared now, aren’t you?”
“What have I got to be scared of?”
“If you’re not scared, then why does a man who’s about to
testify end up dead before he can say a word?”
Minh Quan didn’t answer.
Khai Minh caught the change in the breathing on the other
end. Only a fraction, but enough to tell him he’d struck exactly where it hurt.
“You killed him.”
“What kind of nonsense are you spouting?”
“I know you’re the one behind all of it.”
Khai Minh spoke slowly.
“I know that at the start, all you wanted was to stop my
mother from reaching the lab. But right before the car set out, you changed the
order. You said my parents couldn’t be left alive.”
A heavy crash came down the line.
Minh Quan must have shot to his feet, knocking into the desk.
“Where did you hear that?”
Khai Minh let the corner of his mouth curl.
“You just admitted it.”
Minh Quan realized in an instant he’d let it slip.
“Don’t you play games with me.”
“I don’t need to play games.”
Khai Minh laid his hand on the recorder sitting in front of
him.
“The man’s dead. But his statement is still very much alive.”
The line fell utterly silent.
“You can kill a man. Kidnap his wife and child. Dress it all
up as a debt killing. But you can’t take back the words he already spoke.”
“A recording from a criminal, held in the hands of a man
under investigation for murder. Who do you imagine is going to believe that?”
“Whether the court believes it is a matter for later.”
Khai Minh dropped his voice.
“Right now… I believe it.”
“And so what?”
Minh Quan gave a laugh, all the calm gone out of it.
“What exactly do you plan to do? A blind man the whole city
takes for a killer. Accounts locked, control stripped away, not even the people
in your own house obey you. What are you going to fight me with?”
Khai Minh didn’t rise to the anger.
“I’m not dead yet, Uncle.”
The laughing stopped on the other end.
“Seven years ago you wanted me dead, and I lived. Down in the
basement of Lab Seven you wanted me dead again, and I lived. As long as I’m
still breathing, I’m going to leave you a ruined, broken wreck of a man.”
“You little…”
“Sleep well, Uncle. While you still can.”
Khai Minh ended the call.
On the other end, Minh Quan stood in the middle of his study.
His face had gone red, his eyes bloodshot. Then he hurled the phone hard
against the wall.
Out in the doorway, Linh Chi flinched violently. She stared
at the fragments of glass scattered across the floor and asked, frightened:
“Quan, what’s wrong?”
“Get out!”
Linh Chi went white and hurried to pull the door shut.
He braced both hands on the desk, breathing hard. Ever since
Mai Ngoc’s death, everything had been arranged so close to flawless. Khai Minh
shoved into the role of suspect. Control of the hospital fallen into his hands.
And yet… that little runt… He ground his teeth, the whites of his eyes
threading over with red.
He snatched up the desk phone and called one of his men.
When the line connected, he wasted no words.
“He’s got a recording. That man’s whole statement.”
“Do you want us to try and get it back?”
“Too late for that. He’s certain to have made copies.”
“Then what do we do?”
Minh Quan looked down at the shattered phone at his feet. In
his eyes, the fear was slowly being smothered under something crueler.
“He doesn’t live to see the end of this week.”
The very next day, in Khai Minh’s study, Bach laid a hand on
the file, his face still creased with worry.
“You’re sure this man can be trusted?”
Khai Minh sat across from him, the recorder resting between
the two of them.
“Prosecutor Phan Duc is known for personally reopening two
wrongful convictions. He’s also outside the investigation system that’s
handling my aunt Mai Ngoc’s case.”
“A good name doesn’t mean a man can’t be bought.”
“What other choice do we have right now?”
Bach’s words died in his throat.
It was true, they had few roads left to take. The mechanic’s
recording wasn’t enough to convict Minh Quan, but it was enough to petition for
the accident seven years ago to be reopened, to trace the money, and to dig
into his ties to the Truong Sinh Group.
If they could find one person who genuinely wanted to
investigate, a door that had stayed bolted for years might finally be cracked
open.
The meeting took place that afternoon, in Prosecutor Phan
Duc’s private office.
The man was past fifty, his voice unhurried, the hands that
poured water and turned the pages of a file both slow and deliberate, the kind
of manner that put a person’s guard down.
He ran back the passage where the mechanic named Minh Quan
twice over, then said, plainly:
“This is a copy.”
Khai Minh answered.
“The original is kept somewhere else.”
His hand paused briefly.
“You’re right to be that careful.”
“I’ve paid too high a price for trusting people.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Reopen my parents’ accident. Check the technical report,
Minh Quan’s phone calls that day, the money that flowed to the mechanic and to
everyone who was there.”
Phan Duc turned it over in his mind.
“The case is seven years old. A lot of the physical evidence
is gone. The people involved may be dead, or may have changed their
statements.”
“I know.”
“You’re also a man under investigation in another case. The
other side will certainly argue that you’ve fabricated this to take revenge on
the uncle now managing your assets in your place.”
“I don’t need you to believe what I say.”
Khai Minh pushed the recorder forward.
“I only need you to check whether these words are true or
not.”
Phan Duc looked at the blind young man across from him.
“All right.”
He picked up the copy.
“I’ll have it verified. Before there’s a result, you’re not
to breathe a word that you handed this to me.”
“I understand.”
“And you’ll keep yourself calm. In the position you’re in,
one rash move and the people who want you gone will catch the scent of it at
once.”
Khai Minh gave a small nod.
“Thank you.”
Khai Minh and Bach left the office, and the moment they were
gone, every trace of integrity drained from Phan Duc’s face.
The instant the door clicked shut, he slid open a drawer and
drew out a different phone.
The call connected fast.
“The material’s in my hands.”
Do Quang Vu’s voice came through from the other end.
“Do you have the original?”
“Only a copy. He says the original’s kept somewhere else.”
Quang Vu was quiet for a moment.
“Hold on to it…”
“And Lam Khai Minh?”
“As for that little runt, someone’s already taking care of
him.”