Night Watch by Johansen Iris & Johansen Roy

Author:Johansen, Iris & Johansen, Roy [Johansen, Iris & Johansen, Roy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, thriller, Suspense, Crime, Romance, Contemporary, Adult
ISBN: 9781250075970
Amazon: 1250075971
Goodreads: 28220762
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2016-10-25T07:00:00+00:00

Croyden, England

Middlesex Lane

Rye walked down the main drag of the depressed industrial town sixty-five kilometers north of London. He had no reason to go there since he was a boy, and it looked almost nothing like how he remembered it. More than half of the shops had been shuttered, and those that remained were mostly secondhand stores, pawnshops, and the occasional Laundromat. At the end of the street he saw the reason for the financial despair—the closed clothing factory, which he’d just learned had supplied many of England’s military uniforms for two world wars. Now, however, the gray brick buildings towered above the wrought-iron gates, silently taunting the town that had once so depended on it.

He walked to the factory entrance and looked through the gate’s iron bars. It looked as if no one had been there in years.

Except …

High on the stone flanking, there was a relatively new opening mechanism with an articulated arm attached to the gate. A tiny red light beamed down from the apparatus, indicating that it was on and receiving power.

Nothing else about the grounds indicated that anyone had been there in years. No sound emanated from the factory and no exhaust was emitted from the twin smokestacks and numerous vents.

He turned back toward the street. Dapper Dan’s Pub was on the corner next to the tiny sundries store that probably made most of its sales from lottery tickets. He crossed the street and walked into the dark pub.

A curling match, of all things, was on all three televisions above the narrow bar. Two elderly men, obviously regulars, stared absently at their beers.

The bartender, a plump woman in her seventies, was wiping off the stools. She didn’t acknowledge him even after he sat down on one of them.

“A pint of Pride,” he said.

Still no acknowledgment.

After a few moments, she walked behind the bar and pulled his beer from a well-worn tap. She placed it in front of him.

“Appreciate it,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. My uncle used to work at that factory.”

The bartender snorted. “Everybody’s uncle used to work at that factory. At least around here.”

Rye smiled. “How long’s it been shut down?”

A patron with a Santa Claus beard spoke up. “Twenty-three years last March. But most of the workers were let go five or six years before that.”

“And the place has been empty ever since?”

The bartender nodded. “There was talk about building computers there, but it never came to anything. The local government bent over backward to make it happen, but the company went to Taiwan instead.”

He shrugged. “Well, someone’s been going in and out of there lately.”

The bartender and her patrons stared at him. He’d tried to make it sound casual, but his tone had probably been a bit too insistent, he realized. “I mean, the gates look like they’ve been automated. Recently. I thought it might mean the factory was opening again.”

The second bar patron shook his head. “No such luck. There have been some people coming and going from there, but no one local.

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