The Stalk Club Read online

  “Craig!” Hearing his name called from behind him sent a knife of despair straight through his spine.

  Somehow he managed to resist the urge to run screaming down the hallway like someone who belonged in the psych ward, and slowly turned around as if nothing was wrong. He was momentarily confused and yet also relieved to see Natalie Bassett standing behind him. She was dressed in tight jeans and a black silk blouse that held Craig’s gaze for a moment too long before his eyes reached her face.

  “Well hi princess, if I’d known you were coming to pay me a visit I would have got dressed up for the occasion,” he said, sweeping a hand across his dirty blue scrubs, hoping that the tone of his voice wasn’t as high and nervous as it sounded in his own ears.

  “How are you Craig?” she asked unsmiling, sounding a little nervous herself.

  “Fine, never better. I’ve just spent the last half hour cleaning up the shit of some eighty-seven year old bag, who is too old and weak to make it to the toilet on her own, but apart from that I’m great.”

  Natalie regarded his scrubs with new found distaste and took an involuntary half step backwards.

  “Good to hear, and too much information as usual.”

  “Yep. I tell you, I’ve never seen so much crap in my life. I think she must have been saving it up for the last four years. And of course it had to happen just before the end of my shift. I hope someone knocks me on the head with a shovel if I get that bad. But enough about me and my problems,” he said, realising that he was talking way too much, which he attributed to his nerve-wracking illicit cargo. “What are you doing here?”

  “Bryce is in the emergency ward.”

  “What? What for?”

  “They think it’s a nasty bout of food poisoning. I just thought I’d come and let you know. Maybe you could pay him a visit or something to cheer him up.”

  “Yeah, sure. Anything for Bryce. I’m about to finish my shift so I’ll just get cleaned up and come on down in five.”

  “Ok, thanks. He’d appreciate that I think.”

  Craig turned and headed off down the corridor. Bryce was one of his genuine friends, someone who for whatever reason liked him, warts and all and Craig was the first to admit that he had plenty of warts. Bryce wasn’t someone who wanted Craig to be someone else, someone nicer, more diplomatic and less confronting. They’d met four years previously when they worked together at Carmichael’s Security – still Bryce’s current employer - and had remained close friends ever since.

  Craig made his way to the cleaner’s storeroom and was relieved to find it empty. His heart was still beating fast, as if he had just taken three flights of stairs at a gallop. He removed the boxes from his underpants and carefully dried and transferred the ampoules from his bucket to his backpack which he had stashed earlier behind a small mountain of toilet paper. He stored the mop and bucket and threw his gloves in the medical waste bin. He cracked the door to check that the hallway was clear and made a calm dash to the staff locker room which was two doors further down the hall and fortuitously empty apart from someone taking a shower. He changed out of his work clothes and headed down to the Emergency ward on the ground floor.

  The emergency ward was, as usual, jammed with sick and injured people who suffered patiently, and some not so patiently, waiting their turn to see a doctor based on their triage prioritisation. Craig searched his way through the rabbit warren-like corridors, glancing into each treatment bay and room as he went past them. He eventually located Bryce, who was sitting on a bed, sipping at a cup of ice and watching the emergency ward proceedings with dull and tired eyes.

  “Hey mate. You look like shit,” smiled Craig.

  “Really? Seems strange when I feel so awesome,” replied Bryce, smiling weakly.

  “You haven’t been cooking up your chili-con-carne again have you? I’ve told you before to go easy on the chillis. You make it potent enough to kill a dead donkey.”

  Bryce managed a small laugh even though it felt like his insides were turning outside.

  ”No, no chili con carne this time.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “They’re still not sure. We’ve only seen the triage nurse. We’re still waiting to see a goddam doctor.”

  Natalie joined them, carrying sandwiches and coffee that she’d bought from the cafeteria. She smiled sympathetically at Bryce, flashing dozens of straight, white teeth and stroked his cheek tenderly.

  “Hey baby. Feeling any better?”

  “A little,” Bryce croaked, soaking up the attention.

  Craig decided that he had had enough of the lovey-dovey display being performed in front of him and gently hefted his backpack to avoid any tell-tale clinking sounds from within.

  “Ok. I’ll leave you two love birds alone now. I’ve got something I need to do. I hope you feel better big fella. I’ll give you a call tomorrow and see how you’re going.”

  Craig Thoms headed out through the automatic double doors of the Emergency ward. He felt tired, tired from work and tired of work. He wanted to head home to bed and sleep for a week, or at least eight hours, but first he had a delivery to make.

  Chapter 6

  Nero’s bar was filling up fast with an early evening crowd meeting for drinks after work, keen to make the most of their Queen’s Birthday long weekend.

  Natalie and Bryce, hand in hand, squeezed past a small cluster of people obliviously blocking the door and saw Jen, Craig and Grant at their regular table near the front window. Bryce had known the owner of the bar since high school and had supplied him the hardware for the security system at the bar for cost price plus five percent. As a payback, the owner reserved their table by the window every Friday evening.

  Craig sat spread-eagled across one of the lounges with his feet up on the table and had Jen and Grant in fits of laughter as he recounted the highlights of his week. He smiled at Bryce and Natalie as they sat down at the table.

  “Hi kids, thought you might not be turning up tonight. How’s your menstrual pain Bryce? All fixed up now?”

  “I’m getting there,” said Bryce smiling weakly, his face still pale and a little thinner from eating nothing but dry toast and water for the previous two days. “And Nats has been taking good care of me.”

  “Yeah she must be, I’ve barely seen her in the last two days.” added Jen.

  “Maybe you should have stayed home tonight seeing as you’ll just end up buying my drinks all night anyway,” said Craig. “Could’ve saved yourself a whole lot of money because I’ll need ten or fifteen beers after the week I’ve had, let me tell you.”

  “Well we’ll see about that,” retorted Grant manfully. “I’m loaded up a new camera which my little bro sold me at cost price.”

  “Well bully for you,” Craig smirked. “But fancy equipment is no substitute for skill, intelligence and a bit of heart.”

  “Ok boys. That’s enough of the pissing contests.” Natalie interceded gently, but firmly. “It’s my turn to choose the marks tonight, so what I say goes. No arguments.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me Nats,” said Grant with a cheesy grin. “As long as you give me an easy one that is. Maybe give me some fat guy so I won’t have to walk too far or too fast because I’ve been on my feet all day.”

  “Ok, I’ll see what I can do. You can go first since you volunteered.”

  They all turned their gaze to the crowd walking past on the footpath outside the bar. Natalie closely scanned their faces and attire, looking for someone interesting or someone who looked like they had a secret. A young woman walked past the bar and instantly caught Natalie’s eye. She stood out from the crowd who were mostly office workers dressed in dark colours and large coats as she was wearing a tie died cotton dress, a big green duffel coat and red cowboy boots. She carried a large hessian-like bag on her shoulder and strode out with purposeful steps. Natalie smiled. “There you go Grant. She looks like an interesting person. Go and see what you can find out about her. Maybe you’ll fal
l in love or something,” she said, giving him a playful smack on his rump as he got up to leave.

  “Why can’t I follow her?” complained Craig. “She looks right up my alley. And I’d like to look right up her alley.”

  “Charming as always Craig,” Natalie responded, still smiling. “Wait your turn.”

  In quick succession Natalie sent Jen and Bryce on their two hour time limited stalks. Jen was sent after a teenage boy carrying a skateboard, wearing an Ipod and scruffy jeans. He seemed like just another kid but Natalie’s sharp eye had been drawn to a small package he was carrying in his waistband and appeared to be trying to conceal. Much to Bryce’s chagrin and Natalie’s amusement he was sent out to follow a gay male couple holding hands and chatting animatedly to each other as they walked past. The older male was dripping with expensive looking jewelry which made Natalie think they might be worth following.

  Craig patiently waited his turn while he finished off his third beer for the evening. Normally he tried to wait hold off on his drinking until after the game was completed in case he won and received free drinks courtesy of the other members of the group, but tonight he hadn’t been able to hold out.

  “Well it’s just me and you now princess. How about we skip my stalk and just stay here and get to know each other a little better? I’m feeling a bit tired tonight, I worked five shifts this week and two of them were doubles.”

  “Oh no you don’t. Just wait a moment longer and I’ll find someone for you.” She continued to scan the crowd passing by the bar and checked her watch. “It’s still early, plenty of time for you to head out. There!” she exclaimed, indicating a man walking down the street. “The one with the baseball cap who is about to cross the road. He’s all yours. Off you go!”

  Craig drained the remainder of his beer in quick time, got up and quickly headed out in pursuit of his mark without further complaint.

  “Good luck,” she called after him.

  “Can’t get a look at his face because of that stupid baseball cap he’s wearing. Who the hell wears a cap at night time? He’s moving with purpose, in a straight line, looks like he’s definitely going somewhere. He never looks back or to the side, preoccupied maybe? Doesn’t suspect anyone is following him. I’m too good for that.”

  Craig followed at a safe distance, wondering where his mark would take him. He tried to blend with the crowd, just another regular guy with a couple of beers in him looking for some entertainment on a Friday night.

  “Nothing special.”

  The mark headed west along Market Street as he took a call on his mobile, before turning left into George Street and heading south. After five minutes he turned into the Town Hall train station. Craig inwardly groaned, foreseeing an hour long ride to the western suburbs, but followed him anyway, trying to stay within reasonably proximity of him through the morass of people heading home for the long weekend.

  As Craig took the escalator down to the platforms he saw a train on the Bankstown line quickly filling up. He realised what was about to happen almost too late as his mark made a late dash for the train that was about to leave. In near panic, Craig pushed his way forcefully through those below him on the escalator and ran madly for the train. He squeezed through the door just as it closed, one carriage behind his mark.

  After regaining his breath and composure he moved forward toward the carriage that he saw his mark enter. Through the doors that separated the carriages he could see the familiar baseball cap sitting in a seat in the other carriage, just a few metres away, facing forward. Craig exhaled in relief, grabbed the overhead hand rail and got as comfortable as he could while he waited. He checked his watch and decided that he would follow his mark for a maximum of forty minutes before giving up and returning to the city.

  Within twenty minutes Craig was relieved to see his mark alight at the St Peters station. Craig disembarked at the latest possible moment and casually followed. He watched the mark as he crossed King Street and headed into the park that was once a brickworks, a tip, and now presented itself as Sydney’s third largest park, Sydney Park. The mark moved quickly and purposefully along the pathways, moving in an easterly direction. The main trails were reasonably well lit and Craig passed a few energetic souls exercising their dogs and a pair of oblivious young lovers holding hands, gazing up at the stars. Off the paths, the light gave way to increasing dimness until the darkness became absolute in the copses of trees that were dotted around the park and also fringed it. Craig followed one hundred metres behind his mark, walking well off the path so that he would be near invisible to a casual backward glance. He passed close to a group of trees and jumped out of his skin when he almost collided with an old homeless guy wearing a battered trench coat who appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

  “Watch where ya goin will ya,” roared the homeless guy.

  Craig ignored him and felt certain that his mark must have heard the noise but he showed no sign of it and continued to walk briskly through the park toward its eastern edge without so much as a look back. He then veered off the main path and across the grass toward the trees.

  “Now where the fuck are you going you shit crazy bastard?”

  Several rows of gum trees marked the eastern boundary of the park. The mark slowed down and Craig placed his body behind a trunk to observe, certain the inky blackness of the shadow concealed his position. A worn track threaded itself through the trees. Recent rains had muddied it and the mark carefully picked his way through, alongside the path, displaying admirable athleticism as he leapt from rock to tree root to patch of grass.

  “Pansy doesn’t want to get his shoes dirty. What are kids coming to these days?”

  Craig cautiously followed, wanting to ensure the mark had actually passed through the fringe of trees and wasn’t just waiting for him on the other side. When he reached the place in the trees where the mark had passed through, he could faintly see him about thirty-five metres ahead in the shadows, moving slowly into what appeared to be an industrial area. He followed along the worn path, ignoring the mud that his hiking boots made short work of.

  Despite the coolness of the evening Craig noted that he was now sweating and a damp patch was beginning to form at the base of his spine. He felt his heart pounding and his nerve ends tingled with anticipatory excitement. Instead of trying to calm himself he savoured the feeling and took in deep breaths of the cool night air that touched him deep inside his lungs. He was enjoying the hunt, perhaps more so than any other stalk he had undertaken even though he still knew nothing about his mark. Initially he and Bryce had started surveilling and stalking people to field test the equipment they were selling at their employer Carmichael’s Security. They would plant GPS trackers on cars and follow them, testing the range of the signal. They put listening devices in locations where they could overhear people’s conversations, in cafes, phone booths and under park benches. Over time however, the surveillance took a back seat to the heady rush of adrenalin they experienced when they stalked someone, seeing how close they could get to them and how much they could learn about them without them knowing. It was exciting and exhilarating to tiptoe along the line that separates right from wrong and occasionally cross it. It made Craig feel alive for just a moment when the rest of his life often seemed dead and without meaning.

  Craig remained in the shadows in the trees as he observed the vague outline of his mark ahead who had stopped at the rear corner of a small warehouse. There was a loading dock at the rear of the building and parking for cars, but due to the lateness of the hour it appeared devoid of workers and activity. To Craig’s fascination the mark got down on his hands and knees and slowly crawled along the ground to the other rear corner of the warehouse, further away from where Craig was observing him.

  “What the hell are you up to now?”

  He wondered if his mark was about to try and break into the warehouse and gave a momentary thought to giving up the chase, but quickly cast it aside like the impure thought of a Mormon. This was what the
stalk was all about. This was living. The mark ducked around the corner of the warehouse, out of Craig’s sight. Craig moved quickly to the rear of the warehouse and thought about his next move. He feared his mark could be waiting for him just around the next corner, but he was confident of his own abilities in a fight or flight situation.

  “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

  Craig silently walked around the corner of the building.

  Chapter 7

  The streets were full of eyes and Craig felt all of them were looking in his direction. He tried to calm his thoughts and movements but it was to no avail, he was way beyond that. When he saw people heading in his direction he avoided them by going back the way he’d came or turning off into a side street before they reached him.

  He found a darkened alley that offered solitude and sat on his haunches and tried to calm himself. In time, his breathing grew less ragged although his mind still raced with unwanted thoughts. He decided to head back to Nero’s because he wanted to sit and drink in a familiar and safe place and think calmly about what had just happened. Instead of going back to the St Peters station he made his way circuitously back up the line toward Erskineville. On several occasions he double backed the way he had come to ensure he wasn’t being followed and although he didn’t see anyone following it brought little relief to his conscience.

  He arrived back at Nero’s just on nine-twenty p.m.. Natalie should have been at their table, waiting for the group to return, but she wasn’t and instead a group of leather jacketed, pimple faced Generation Y-ers were sitting there talking about their latest i-phone app. Craig glared at them briefly. Standing on tiptoes he scanned the crowd searching for Natalie but didn’t spot her. It was still happy hour so he decided to save time and energy, muscled his way to the bar and ordered three scotch and cokes to help calm his nerves. He found one of the few spare tables toward the rear of the bar and sat down.