Chapter 26: In Progress

Most middle-class communities have excellent support service companies, offering everything from cleaning and security to community hospitals and doctors, providing residents with comprehensive care and services.

Residents pay a significant quarterly fee for these services, which they consider worthwhile because it grants them a sense of dignity and respect above the lower classes.

Lynch had just turned off the main road into the community entrance when the security guard stopped him. “This is a private area. You can’t enter.”

It was getting dark. The guard didn’t initially notice Lynch’s outfit, but as he approached, he saw Lynch dressed as a typical electrician.

Many middle-class communities employ their own electricians, whose salaries are paid collectively by all homeowners, along with an additional management fee to the service company.

The benefit is quick repairs when a household’s electrical system has issues. However, this has caused friction with the power company.

Work that should belong to the power company was taken by the service company, so the power company retaliates by warning homeowners about aging wiring and urging inspections.

The service company denies these claims, but the power company pressures homeowners by threatening fire hazards if inspections aren’t done.

Most homeowners eventually pay for the inspections, unaware the service company bills them later.

Some homeowners scrutinize every expense—usually those feeling financial strain—but most don’t mind the small costs.

This explains why middle and high-end communities seal wiring and equipment with lead strips that only the power company can remove. If tampered with, all homeowners share the cost.

Not all communities operate this way; some service companies don’t provide electrician services, which is normal.

Lynch stopped his bike and raised his clipboard with the first repair form, making him look official. “I’m here to inspect some wiring. There are reports of aging and cracking.”

The guard frowned, aware this was a power company trick but indifferent, unwilling to risk offending anyone.

He waved Lynch through after warning him not to disturb residents, then returned to his post.

Lynch easily found Michael’s house. Next to the yard was a utility pole with a platform like a medieval ship’s lookout, the main repair spot.

A box on the pole held electrical equipment, sealed with a lead strip that required special tools to break.

The strip’s number was the billing reference for the service company. Electricians document and submit these to the service company before returning the equipment to the power company.

Lynch climbed the pole and from this vantage could clearly see Michael’s entire house.

The man had chosen well: a three-story detached house about 200 square meters, with front and back yards, no pool but some small landscaping.

Occasionally, passersby glanced up at Lynch busy on the pole, then quickly looked away.

The weather was heating up, the peak season for wiring inspections. Every summer, fires caused by aging wiring happen weekly nationwide.

High-end communities typically have monthly inspections, especially on hot days with peak electricity use, nearly daily checks.

By about 10 p.m., with no sign of the dealer, Lynch was preparing to leave when a sneaky shadow approached from the back of the community.

The dealer had planned to come but was stopped at the gate. Dressed cheaply and smelling of alcohol, he clearly wasn’t a resident. The guard had responsibly blocked him.

Having drunk to gain courage and aware of patrolling guards, the dealer had dozed off in the roadside grass, only waking due to heat and mosquitoes.

With no chance to enter through the front, he circled to the back.

The back gate had a guardhouse and a path to the main road but was usually closed since most used the front.

Cars and even pedestrians were blocked, but these weak measures didn’t stop the dealer. He climbed over, timed patrols, and sneaked near Michael’s home.

Under the streetlamp’s shield, Lynch on the pole remained hidden in the dark, unnoticed by anyone not very close.

Lynch watched the dealer quietly scale a one-meter-high hedge, slip into the yard, creep around the house, and try every reachable window.

Perhaps due to the house’s safety or female carelessness, the dealer was surprised to quietly open a window on the west side.

The window slid open soundlessly. He pushed himself halfway inside—Lynch saw everything but didn’t move. He waited.

Minutes passed. The tranquil night shone with stars as Lynch’s gaze fixed on the house.

Ten minutes in, the dealer still hadn’t finished. Could he really be so incompetent?

A minute or two later, a second-floor light switched on. A shadow appeared behind a thin curtain—a woman’s silhouette paused briefly, then vanished.

Seconds later, Lynch heard a scream.