Les Grands Chantiers (Wattys 2022)

17. Spooks

Brendan tried not to look at the guy sitting five rows behind him on the bus. He was sure it was the same guy. He had done this kind of thing before, when he was still at Carleton. Well not directly. He had been behind the scenes, directing them where they might go. They were usually from the packs, had never been in the big smokes before, completely overwhelmed by the sounds of the city. They weren't meant to do much. Just scare people a little, let them know someone out there was watching them. It was not the best look. But it was cost-effective and it worked, so there was not much he could do about it.

He couldn't remember the last time he had caught a bus into the city. "Who catches a bus into the city?" was a common joke at open mics in Corviston, or at least what passed as a joke in a country where German backpackers cut their teeth on the stand-up circuit. It was not dissimilar to some of the stuff he had done to stave off boredom during high school. It was slow, but he got a window seat.

The bus, a rather anemic Volvo B7R, wheezed up the final grade to the station. He looked through the reflection on the gently rattling window. He was still there. This was giving the vibes of the last time he had been this paranoid, just after he had dropped out. He forced himself to calm down. He assured himself that he would be able to look at this calmly and evenly.

The bus pulled into the concrete bowels of the interchange at Central. He got off. He disappeared into the throng of commuters heading into the station. The guy was following him, for sure. He felt certain of it now. It didn't concern him. He could shake him off. It was not that difficult.

He passed the ticket gates for the train platforms. announcements going off, people crowded in front of him. The tram terminal was all the way down the corridor. And before that, the entry into the complex of shops and other spaces under the centre of the city.

He cast a glance behind him. There was the guy. he hadn't been able to get a good look at him on the bus but now he was certain that it was the same person. He forced himself to remain calm, to show absolutely no sign that he knew he was being followed.

*** 

Brendan walked through the labyrinth of underground passages surrounding Central. The smell of diesel exhaust from the bus terminal still lingered, but was dissipating by the second.

He wound deeper and deeper into the bowels of the city. He passed the moon temple. workers were praying, lit up in surreal brightness. The scratched plexiglass gave it an ethereal quality. Next to it was a Chinese restaurant, tanks of fish, lobsters and crabs lining the front. One of the lobsters looked like it was on its last legs.

As he rounded yet another tiled corner he realised this was getting ridiculous. He couldn't live his life like this. It had been like this under Beidzner's spell, continually on the watchout for a vaguely defined enemy, constantly looking behind his back, in all directions, constantly on guard. He had gotten to a point where he could not stand any more then, and he was trying not to repeat history now. Nowadays he knew himself better, knew his limits. He could not continue like this. This had to end here.

He had originally intended to catch the train from here and shake the guy off, but he had changed his mind. The 5:04 express could wait. He had some unfinished business to sort out. He was aware this could backfire. The guy could just walk away and not talk to him, and there was nothing he could do about that. 

He found the cafe after a few orbits. It was tiny, just a few tables outside a narrow shopfront. Only artificial light permeated here. There were no signs outside, and that was how the owners liked it, apparently. Someone had shown it to him before. One of his classmates had mentioned there was a good coffee place here. Not being the biggest fan of coffee, Brendan had never really had a use for that particular tidbit of information until now.