The Stalk Club (4 page)

“Though
shalt not be greedy,” he reminded himself quietly.

He packed
five small boxes into his underpants, dropped several ampoules into the murky
water in his bucket and then quickly rearranged the remaining stock on the
shelves in an effort to disguise what he had taken.  He re-locked the doors
with a gentle and quiet snick and tested it just to be extra safe, thus
ensuring he didn’t make the mistake he’d once previously made by leaving the
door ajar.  Taking a deep breath, he put on his
holier than thou face
–
which was a stretch of character for him - and ever so casually strolled back
out into the hall, pushing his bucket ahead of him.

“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. 

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 fall 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.