Free The case of the missing books by Ian Sansom

Carson?' said Brownie.
    'The Big Wee Man,' said the old man.
    'Yeah.'
    'Yeah, of course, right,' said Brownie. 'He used to be the driver of the library, didn't he, Granda, do you remember, until they stopped the service?'
    'Aye.'
    'Have you met Ted then, Israel?'
    'Yes,' said Israel, restraining his 'alas'. 'He gave me a lift here last night.'
    'Aye. He was a tight wee fighter in his time,' said the old man. 'Rough enough and damn the scars. Terrible temper on him.'
    'I guess he'll be showing you the ropes,' said Brownie.
    'I guess so,' said Israel, wishing now he'd had a sausage.
    'Mind his left hook now,' said the old man.
    'Right. Thanks,' said Israel weakly. 'I'll do my best.'

6
    Israel met Ted outside the old library at nine o'clock as arranged. The conversation was a little strained. 'Nice eye,' was all that Ted offered in acknowledgement of Israel's previous night's tangling with Tony Thompson in the back of his cab, and 'What's with the specs?' he asked of Israel's parcel-taped glasses, and 'Fancy dress?' he said, of Israel's too-tight and too-short borrowed combat trousers and hoodie and T-shirt, which certainly did not match his old brown duffle coat and his brown corduroy jacket and his old brown brogues and which made him look like he was on perpetual day-release from some long-since-closed long-term mental institution.
    In return, Israel did not mention Ted's less than friendly farewell of the night before–when Ted had grabbed him by the coat and nearly pulled him through his car window–which was frankly now the least of his worries. Stripped of his money, his clothes, his dignity, unable to understand what people were talking about half the time, unwilling to eat the food, forced to be doing a job he didn't want to do, and threatened, beaten, and in a state of some uncertainty, confusion and tension, he was now really enjoying the full immigrant experience: this was what it must have been like for his ancestors and relatives who'd made it to Bethnal Green and to America. No wonder they all looked so bloody miserable in the photographs. Also, when he prodded his glasses the masking tape kept digging into his forehead.
    'There,' said Ted.
    'Sorry,' said Israel. 'What? Where?'
    Ted nodded, indicating the red and cream rusting mobile library, parked down the side of the old library building.
    'I thought you said it'd take—'
    'Aye. Worked on her all night. Not every day you get the library back out on the road.'
    'No. I suppose not.'
    'Give you the tour later. Now. Tradesman's entrance for us,' said Ted, leading Israel round the back of the library, where he opened rusty metal gates which led down into an open passageway, ankle-deep in black plastic bin bags and rubbish, and they kicked their way through to a big steel door, which had been punched and hammered and stabbed and set light to enough times to make it look like the gates to hell itself.
    Ted produced a big bunch of keys.
    'Dante's Inferno ,' joked Israel.
    'Dan Tay?'
    'He's an author. Thirteenth-century.'
    'Aye, right,' said Ted, unimpressed. 'The Carson translation's the best.'
    'What?'
    'Much better than the John D. Sinclair or the Dorothy L. Sayers.'
    'You know the Divine Comedy ?'
    'Aye,' said Ted. 'In more ways than one. What d'you think a driver does on a mobile library when they're not driving, read the Sun ?'
    'Er. I never really thought—'
    'Clearly. Electric's off,' continued Ted, moving swiftly on from literature to life, swinging the door open, as they entered a dark porch.
    'Did you—' began Israel, as Ted produced a torch from a jacket pocket. 'Ah. Right. Good.'
    Ted then opened up another internal door and shone the torch into the dark interior–a basement storage area, full of orange stackable chairs and old display cases. No books.
    'Where are the books?' asked Israel.
    'They'll be upstairs,' said Ted, who pointed with his torch over to a flight of stairs on the opposite side of the room. 'In the library .'
    'Of course.'
    'After