Force Of Habit v5 by Robert Bartlett Read Free Book Online Page B

lights were out. Mason’s car was gone. A woman came out the 7-11 tearing cellophane from a cigarette pack and the wind carried it away. A tab was in her mouth and the lighter poised when she saw him.
    ‘You pervert!’ she shouted at North. ‘I’m taking your number. People have to live round here, you know. We’ve got kids. Its not right.’
    North continued cruising slowly up the street. There was no time to explain, she would just have to report him as a kerb crawler. Hopefully by then he’d be in a position to laugh about it. Right now he still couldn’t see Mason’s car. There was no sign of him or James. He checked his phone in case somehow he’d missed a call. He hadn’t. He swung round the back of the block and steered between clusters of bins dotted along either side of the alley. At the back of the pub he got out. There was no sign of them here either.
    He’d be inclined to think the worst of them, that they’d buggered off ten minutes after he’d left them, but the Super had told them to stay put - and the dark pub was ominous. It was nowhere near kicking out time.
    He dialled Mason’s number. It went straight to voicemail. He didn’t have James’. He called the station. They hadn’t been in. He tried Mason again. Nada. He rang Mason’s home. He wasn’t back yet. He played it light with Mason’s wife but North was now worried.
    This was no time for discretion.
    ‘Mason!’ he shouted as loud as could. ‘James!’
    No one answered.
    No one appeared.
    He rang the station again, gave them the SP. They hadn’t been able to raise Mason by radio either so they got a search going. North headed for the pub, blood pressure rising. The door leading into the back yard was open. A windowless single storey extension jutted out on the left. To the right rectangles of obscured glass indicated the toilet block but even if they’d been open the bog windows were too small to crawl through. The rear door lay dead ahead. He wanted to charge the place and kick his way inside. The station wanted him to stay put and wait for back up. Neither felt right.
    There was no sign of life. The only light came from a flat above the 7-11. It was enough to reveal a security light and alarm box on the pub wall. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dim glow North found a couple of discreet security cameras up there too. The windows had bars bolted to the outside. None of the gear looked too weathered. The fixings bore no signs of rust. His own security heightened. What did a tiny shithole like this need all the security for? And why was the motion sensor light switched off on the light? If the barman or manager or whatever the fuck he was had chucked everyone out and shut up shop after Rawlins had done a runner then why wasn’t the security set? Maybe they hadn’t left. Maybe one of them had ear-wigged the conversation he had had with Mason and knew he was coming back. Maybe they were in there waiting for him, whoever they might be. Lurking in the dark. Ready.
    He told himself he was getting carried away. Anyone helping Rawlins would want well away after they had picked him up and the pathetic fuckers that regularly frequented the place may be well capable of taking the piss but they were in no fit state to be seriously fucking with him. They were probably lined up squinting through the nets laughing their bollocks off as they watched him flap around in the dark.
    But why the security?
    Where were Mason and James?
    And Scanlan!
    He’d forgotten about Scanlan. The Super had sent him back here. He called him. It rang out, tripped to voicemail. North disconnected. Redialled. It rang out. It was picked up just as it was about to trip again.
    ‘Where are you?’
    ‘What? Who is this?’
    ‘North. Where the fuck are you? Are Mason and James with you?’
    ‘What? No. What?’
    ‘They’re missing. Why aren’t you here? At the pub.’
    North could hear someone in the background. Near the phone. A woman.
    ‘What?’
    Scanlan was