Chapter 3 - Room 27B
Lan Tran arrived before they crossed the street.
She was Minh’s thirty-four-year-old daughter, a commercial-property attorney with an office in Irvine and a relationship with her father built largely from arguments.
“Tell me you didn’t block a man because of an American flag.”
Minh looked irritated.
“It is more complicated.”
“That sentence has ruined half this family.”
She turned toward Jack.
“I’m Lan.”
“Jack.”
“I apologize for my father.”
Minh muttered something in Vietnamese.
Lan ignored him.
Sophie liked her immediately.
Bao did not.
“We don't need an attorney.”
Lan looked at him.
“You always need an attorney when you say that.”
She examined the key.
“27B?”
Minh explained.
Lan’s expression changed.
“You told me the basement rooms were sealed after the fire.”
“They were.”
“But one has a key?”
“I thought it was destroyed.”
Bao crossed his arms.
“This is ridiculous. The building is condemned.”
Lan shook her head.
“No. The rear wing is restricted. The front storage level passed structural review last year.”
Bao stared at her.
“You checked?”
“I represented the trust during the insurance dispute.”
Minh looked surprised.
Lan smiled without warmth.
“Yes, Dad. Sometimes I read documents.”
They entered Lantern Printing through a side door owned by the Freedom Avenue Community Trust.
Dust covered everything.
Old printing machines stood beneath plastic sheets.
The building smelled of paper, oil and dry wood.
A narrow staircase led down.
Room numbers ran along the basement corridor.
At 27, they found two doors.
27A had been converted into electrical storage.
27B was hidden behind shelving.
Huy helped move it.
The lock was ancient.
Jack inserted the key.
It turned.
Inside was a room barely eight feet wide.
Metal shelves lined the walls.
Empty.
Bao laughed.
“There. Mystery solved.”
Sophie entered.
“Maybe.”
Dust covered the floor evenly except near the rear wall.
A rectangular patch appeared slightly cleaner.
Something had been moved.
Recently.
Huy crouched.
“These footprints aren't old.”
Bao stiffened.
Minh looked at him.
“You said nobody had been here.”
“I assumed.”
Lan shone her phone light around the room.
On one shelf sat a photograph.
Nothing else.
Minh picked it up.
His hands began shaking.
Vinh Tran stood outside the building.
Beside him was Daniel Mercer.
Between them stood two other men.
One was Minh’s father, Duc Tran.
The other was Nam Nguyen.
Bao’s father.
Written on the back:
FOUNDERS’ AGREEMENT — ORIGINAL COPIES STORED 27B.
Lan looked around.
“Where are the copies?”
Bao said, “Probably burned.”
“This room didn't burn.”
“You don't know that.”
“The paper photograph survived.”
Jack studied Bao.
“You’re working awfully hard to make sure we find nothing.”
Bao stepped toward him.
“You come here one day and think you understand forty years?”
“No.”
Jack held his stare.
“But I understand nervous.”
Minh stopped them.
Sophie photographed everything.
Then Lan noticed scratches near the bottom of a shelf.
The entire unit was bolted to the wall.
Except one side.
They pulled.
Behind it was a narrow recess.
Inside sat an empty fireproof document case.
The lock had been forced.
Recent metal shavings remained on the floor.
Someone had found the archive before them.
Sophie crouched beside the box.
“Could have been weeks.”
Huy examined the dust.
“Maybe less.”
Lan looked at her father.
“Who knew about this room?”
Minh answered reluctantly.
“My father. Vinh. Daniel Mercer. Nam Nguyen.”
“All dead?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else?”
Minh hesitated.
Bao noticed.
“What?”
Minh looked at him.
“Your father told you stories.”
“So?”
“Did he ever mention 27B?”
“No.”
Too quickly.
Jack took one step toward Bao.
A phone rang.
Bao’s.
He looked at the screen and silenced it.
Sophie glimpsed the name before it disappeared.
VICTOR HALE.
Lan recognized it too.
“Why is Crescent Pacific’s acquisitions director calling you?”
Bao shoved the phone into his pocket.
“Because I own property they want to buy.”
Minh’s expression hardened.
“You've been speaking to Hale directly?”
“I am allowed.”
“You are vice-chair of our association.”
“And?”
“You negotiate on behalf of everybody.”
“No, Minh. You negotiate on behalf of everybody. That's the problem.”
Years of resentment came out in one sentence.
Bao pointed toward the dusty room.
“You think this neighborhood is a museum. Half the owners are sixty-five. Their children don't want the stores. Buildings need millions in repairs. Crescent is offering real money.”
Lan interrupted.
“And if enough people sign, your parcels get a premium.”
Silence.
Bao looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“I read the option agreements.”
Minh stared at him.
Bao shrugged.
“That isn't illegal.”
“No,” Lan said. “But failing to disclose a side incentive while urging other owners to sell could become a problem depending on your duties.”
Bao’s face changed.
He walked toward the door.
Jack blocked him.
“Move.”
Jack stepped aside.
He did not need a fight.
Bao left.
Huy followed halfway, then stopped.
Minh asked, “What?”
Huy looked uncomfortable.
“Yesterday Bao told us a biker might come.”
Jack stared.
“What biker?”
“He didn't give a name.”
“And?”
“He said if the motorcycle had an American flag, we were supposed to block it before it reached Lantern Building.”
Lan turned toward her father.
“Why did you agree?”
Minh looked ashamed.
“Bao said people had threatened to disrupt the memorial.”
Huy shook his head.
“He specifically said the flag.”
Jack felt anger rise again.
“You knew.”
Minh faced him.
“I knew someone might come. I did not know it was you.”
Sophie asked Huy, “Who told Bao?”
“I don't know.”
Jack looked toward the empty archive case.
Someone knew about his father’s flag.
Someone knew he might arrive.
Someone knew the key was inside it.
And someone had reached Room 27B first.
Then Sophie noticed a tiny scrap of paper caught beneath the fireproof box.
She pulled it free.
Only one line remained.
PROPERTY CONTRIBUTION — D. MERCER: $50,000.
Jack stared.
His father had always claimed they were nearly broke when the family left Orange County.
In 1988, fifty thousand dollars was a fortune to them.
Jack looked at Minh.
“Why was my father's money in a Vietnamese merchants’ land agreement?”
May you like
Minh did not answer.
Because for the first time, even he appeared not to know.
