One Eye On The Darkness

Chapter Thirteen

Munster Hauptbahnof was typically busy, and no one paid any undue attention to the unremarkable figure standing between a vending machine and a photo-booth in the long central aisle to which steps leading from the various platforms descended. Commuters, tourists and interlopers from all over Germany and beyond swarmed down these stairs and past him without so much as a glance, like a column of ants, each lost in their own particular world, each pair of eyes so insular and parochial.

But the Stick Man was more than alert, more than a casual onlooker. His eyes roamed the throng feverishly, although his bodily demeanour betrayed nothing of his sense of urgency. It had been two days now. A sacrifice was demanded.

His eyes locked on a petite dark-haired girl in fashionably torn jeans and a hooded top who had separated slightly from the crowd like some careless animal wandering from the herd that invited predatory attention. She had slung her rucksack over one shoulder and was struggling with a small suitcase.

The Stick Man tensed imperceptibly and prepared to make his move. But as he was about to exit the shadows, a young man who appeared to be his potential victim's boyfriend appeared. He kissed the girl affectionately before picking up her case and taking hold of her hand. In a few seconds they had disappeared into the crowd.

Desperation threatened to seize The Stick Man, but he would not allow it to take control. He suppressed the rising panic and forced it down with a fury born of a disgust at his own weakness. This was not what the Master expected. It was not what he deserved.

The Stick Man steeled himself. He would not fail. And he would not fail because his lord and master would provide. All he needed to have was patience, and a little faith.
     
A clamour of new voices added themselves to the hustle and bustle of the station, and a surge of passengers poured down the steps leading from platform fourteen, almost directly opposite The Stick Man's position.
     
He surveyed the crowd calmly, locking down the last vestige of panic, and ignoring the merciless hunger of the addict seeking a next fix. His piercing eyes narrowed, darting from one person to the next, seeking the slightest vulnerability that he could exploit to the master's advantage.
     
And when the opportunity presented itself, it was almost ridiculously easy. So easy that it could only have been the master's doing.

The blond young man who had halted to use the vending machine was digging into his pockets for coins. His search produced a five euro note, and he gave it a forlorn look. He hesitated before smiling sheepishly at The Stick Man.
     
"Excuse me, I don't suppose you have change?" he asked, a slight American tone to his voice
     
The Stick Man nodded and returned the smile. The cost of this offering was cheap at the price. But its eternal value was beyond measure.