The protests died off in January 1989, although smaller demonstrations continued throughout the year. These smaller marches evolved into human rights protests and continued into June of that year, with anti-African campaigns appearing in the Tiananmen Square Protests.
Following his release from jail, Dingbang finished his degree before moving to Beijing to take up a career in construction engineering. After a decade of working for a local organisation, he formed his own company to compete with his former employer. He married and had a child, but the marriage dissolved after he met Lae. The young lady from Hong Kong had moved to Beijing after China gained control of the island from the British in 1997. She reminded him of his first love, Bao Yu, and he became fascinated with her. The entrepreneur employed her as his administrative assistant, but they became quite steamy underneath her desk one evening after a late shift, sifting through receipts to ensure their taxes were present and correct.
A nasty divorce battle caused Dingbang to leave the country. He had moved many of his assets to America before the separation was complete, to avoid paying the bitter ex more than he desired. Once it was complete, he married his new partner, Lae, and the newlyweds moved to Springfield, Illinois and continued their business from the United States.
This would be nothing extraordinary in any other circumstance. There were lots of foreign nationals whose previous lives abroad had been flagged on their Interpol data with a light eye kept on the immigrants after they entered the country. But for Lae Chang, it was a different matter. She attended the same university as the student whose stolen identity had been used to enter the library at the Lincoln birthplace in Kentucky. Her dissertation plan exposed Lincoln as an intolerant controller who hoped to deport the Africans to a colony after he had freed them. And she was married to a man who was not only passionate in the deportation of Africans in his homeland, but also owned a construction firm which would have had both the instruments and the expertise to dig through concrete in the middle of the night without making a sound. A construction company which had been flagged on Patrick Burns’ employment history from his social security number. Patrick Burns who was today known as Rick Spabrunt, their prime suspect. He’d been on the company’s books for a number of weeks filling the gap between his departure from the Lincoln Boyhood Home in Indiana and joining Oak Ridge Cemetery.
Jamison wanted to dig deeper but had not been able to get hold of a warrant from her boss to search the location. Commander Hill was being overly cautious after the complaint from Poppy Shipman. Vanessa knew she didn’t have much time before Lae and Dingbang destroyed any evidence after hearing of Rick Spabrunt’s arrest. She sat outside Springfield Structures for over an hour before she was confident that nobody would disturb her.
It was two in the morning and she’d drunk too many measures of whisky to legally drive, but the spirit gave her the confidence to overlook this barrier. After all, what she was about to do down at Springfield Structures was far from kosher. Half the town appeared to drive to their local bars and drove home after five beers anyway, and the local authorities didn’t appear to care; they were usually joining them at the bar even if they were on shift. To keep herself inconspicuous, she dressed down in a black hoodie and jeans and covered her white sneakers in black shoe polish to help her blend into the dark.
Confident that the coast was clear, Vanessa took out her torch and shone it on the silver mesh which protected the Changs’ business. A walk around the entire forty-foot square yard confirmed that the detective had no way of entering the establishment safely. Recalling her training from the police force inductions, Vanessa began to climb the cage. Her dainty feet paid off as she slipped her shoes easily between the gaps of the metal fence.
A lubricated wire caused the detective to slip. Dangling from the mesh, Vanessa swung her left side to regain support and commenced the climb. At the top of the cage she swung her body over, narrowly avoiding the barbed wire which lined the roof of the cage. She managed to get over unharmed, but her clothing hadn’t been so fortunate. Her black hoodie and jeans had torn under the barbed wire and she had to pull herself loose as the material got caught on the wire.
As her legs slammed down on the mesh, the ringing of the metal echoed throughout the yard. The hairs on the back of the detective’s neck stood on end. She hovered silently for a few minutes until she was confident that she was alone before commencing her descent. At five feet she let go of the metal and dropped to the floor, landing on her feet before falling backward. Her buttocks ached but she bit on her sleeve to avoid loud whimpers. She shook the pain off, relit her torch and began her tour of the establishment.
Despite the security being fairly tight on the outside, once inside Vanessa found it quite easy to move around. The cabin itself was constructed of plastic, suitable for a mobile home in a holiday park. The cheap lock on the door was swiftly opened by Vanessa using a hairclip, which the detective had used to tie back her vivacious and distinguishable red hair, now hidden beneath a hat away from the prying eye of CCTV.
She scanned the desk for any paperwork which would be of value to her investigation. Inside she found reams of files with employee details and clients. Once again she spotted the name of Patrick Burns, reconfirming her suspicions that he
