Free Force Of Habit v5 by Robert Bartlett

dark again. They remained where they were. What the fuck was going down out here tonight? They were in a sea of filth. Another passed by five minutes later. Maybe it was the same one, circling, looking for somebody.
    ‘Lets go,’ said Casper. For a moment Blu thought Casper was crying off, thank fuck, but after Casper had shouldered his bag he jogged off towards the target. Blu started counting elephants. When he hit the right number he picked up his own bag and moved.
    It wasn’t rocket science.
    His hand went into the bag and the first brick flew. The sound of glass shattering was deadened by the storm. Not so the alarm that kicked in. His heart did the impossible and upped a beat. He dipped back into the bag, repeating the advice he had been given, over and over in his head: nobody gives a shit about an alarm, they just turn the telly up and curse the bastard who isn’t switching it off. And it ain’t linked to nothing. No one’s going to come running. It’s just a noise.
    The noise was scaring the shit out of him.
    And Blu didn’t think there would be many watching telly at this hour. They would be getting woken up and coming to look. Calling the feds.
    He began to work faster.
    He went back into the bag. He set a bottle alight and it sailed through the bottom window producing a burst of heat and light when it exploded inside, the contents spreading across the floor, the flame following it and growing as it found new combustible material.
    He lobbed another three and then chucked what was left of his gear into the now roaring fire before having it on his toes.
    He met up with Casper in the next street. They had run the best part of a mile, neither looking back, not even once, before they let up and began walking through the rain lashed streets and alleys, not caring how wet they were.
    A figure lurched towards them.
    ‘Got a light?’ Casper asked it.
    The man fumbled through his clothing. Produced a bic. The bloke was three sheets to the wind.
    ‘Here, you shouldn’t be smoking,’ he slurred. ‘And you shouldn’t be up at this time of night, neither, never mind outside on a night like this one.’
    ‘Keep your syrup on, granddad, you don’t want to be getting too excited, you’ll fill your diapers, you old fart.’ Casper waved the bic at him as they sucked on their tabs and started jogging down the road, laughing, leaving the man swaying in the wind. His own unlit cigarette fell from his lips as they moved.
    ‘Bloody kids.’
     

TEN
    ‘I've been asking around about you, North.’ The Chief had a face like thunder. ‘I've been painting a picture and let me tell you that it's pretty black.’
    He’d spent way too much time spouting rhetoric at meetings and cameras, feeling important, that he just didn’t know when to stop. North stared straight ahead. It was still pretty black on the other side of the window too. North admired his own reflection. He’d spammed his hair back and looked the kind of biz the Chief responded to in a crisp, pressed suit and open collar shirt. Every little helped, right?
    ‘Everyone voiced some concern except your superior in the Met and I would tend to think that he's fucking with me, glad to be shot of you, even if it is only temporarily. Your past record may contradict everything that I’ve seen personally, but let me tell you, Detective Inspector North, that the only record I'm concerned about is your record here and that, that is of some concern to me and don't think for one second that the irony of your recent commendation is not lost on me,’ he finally breathed in new air. Superintendant Egan was sat beside him. They were on the other side of the meeting table in the Chief’s office.
    ‘You went against orders, you were told to wait for back-up, didn’t, and nearly got yourself killed. You put yourself and others at risk but the general consensus was that it puts us all in a good light when an officer is brave and self-sacrificing, not so good when they are