Stalking His Prey

The orange glow of sodium streetlamps periodically dances across Arthur's weathered face. He sat unmoving on the back seat of his ride, his attention split between keeping track of the taxi ahead and plotting their journey on his map in an attempt to get an inkling of where they were headed.

The cabby had tried to start up a conversation multiple times, but all his attempts at small talk had failed, and the man now maintained silence out of fear of annoying his enigmatic customer. Arthur only spoke when he had instructions, telling him to slow down, or speed up, or at times make seemingly random turns.

Given that cab drivers used specific routes based on where they wanted to go, along with the fact that not many types of establishments were open at this time of the night, and the way his target was dressed, Arthur was able to make an educated guess about their ultimate destination.

He was further convinced that his guess was correct when the distant cab turned right off the road on to a street that did not lead to anywhere meaningful, other than one location Arthur had identified on his map. This time, he did not follow, and instead allowed himself to be driven past the street his target had entered. Only after travelling another fifty yards did Arthur request his driver to pull to the right and stop the vehicle.

The cab rolled to a stop, but Arthur was not in a hurry to leave. Instead, he folded up his map and stashed it into the inside pocket of his jacket, and then continued to sit in silence as he stared at his driver. The cabby who was the recipient of this fearsome gaze, began to feel nervous. Was the generous tip he received earlier simply bait to lure him into a trap? Was he about to get mugged? Just as he was about to turn around and confront his customer, Arthur spoke up.

"How would you like to make another hundred bucks?"

The words he was about to say became stuck in this throat, and he could only gulp them back down. It was a lot of money for him, an amount he would earn only after a couple of nights of work. He looked around and found that there were still some people in the streets, although they seemed to be on their way home after a wild night of partying. This was enough to abate his fear of getting robbed, as he decided to ask what Arthur wanted from him.

"What do you need me to do?" he questioned.

"Simple. Just stay here. I will be gone for a bit, but when I come back, be ready to drive." Arthur said as he reached into his pocket and fished out another hundred-dollar bill. He held it between two fingers as he extended his hand towards the driver. "Hundred now, another hundred when I get back." he added.

Suddenly seeing the chance to triple his bonus for the night, the cabby no longer hesitated. He reached around and took the money off Arthur's fingers as he confirmed his compliance. "I'll be right here."

Arthur nodded at the man, and then opened the door to his right, stepping out of the cab and onto the sidewalk. Rather than turn back towards where his target went, Arthur walked forwards. He then turned right into a dark alleyway and continued to walk towards the other end.

As he walked, he took an old scarf out of his backpack and wrapped it around his head, obscuring his face with only his eyes visible. He stopped at the end of the alleyway and peeked around the corner to see what lied ahead. He saw only a single building with any kind of activity surrounding it. On the street outside were multiple intoxicated youths sitting on the sidewalk, or scattered around where they stood in small circles and conversed loudly. At the entrance to the building stood two large men, and in front of them, a short queue had formed behind a railing placed on the sidewalk, clearly intended to separate those waiting in line from random pedestrians. Above the entrance flashed the name of the establishment in large neon letters; Club Roxy.

Arthur scanned the queue as he recalled his target's details, and quickly spotted the man he was looking for. Logan Hartman, age 33, Senior Executive at a successful marketing firm, and son of a decorated veteran of the Annam War. The man's medium length blond hair was slicked back, drawing more attention to his cleanly shaven handsome face. He wore a red silk shirt under his pinstriped black suit, and his black oxford shoes tapped the pavement repeatedly as he stood in line with an annoyed look on his face.

Arthur let out a sigh of relief, as his guess tuned out to be correct, and he had located his target once more after losing visual contact. He took off his jacket and sat down on the ground, just inside the alleyway where his form would be difficult to spot in the shadows. He made sure he was able to see the entrance to the nightclub, and then proceeded to drape the jacket over his front, as he huddled next to dumpster; as someone who had spent decades in the big city, he knew the best way to become invisible was to seem homeless.

He watched the queue get progressively shorter until it was eventually Hartman's turn. The young man approached the bouncer and handed over his identification, after which he was promptly allowed in.

Arthur continued to sit in the dark and watched the entrance to the club like a hawk. His twenty years of experience had taught him that there was only one reason for someone to enter a nightclub alone when most other patrons were already starting to leave: to find a victim. Usually some young lady too intoxicated to know whose bed she would be sleeping on that night. He had lost count of how many predators he had arrested who primarily preferred nightclubs as their hunting grounds.

Two of the Copycat's victims so far disappeared after a night out, only to turn up dead somewhere a few days later. The profile Arthur had built strongly suggested that his nemesis would act tonight; he enjoyed mocking the public far too much to not spoil the festive mood that had taken hold as the nation entered a hopeful new year. As such, Arthur intently observed the entrance, waiting for Hartman to come back out.

Sure enough, after an hour of waiting, his target stepped out of the club with his arm wrapped around a young lady, clearly too intoxicated to stand on her own. Arthur watched the man hail another taxi, helping the young lady in first before looking around, and then entering the cab himself.

He waited until the cab had moved out of sight before he got up from his seated position and sprinted back down the alleyway, returning to the taxi that was waiting for him. As he rushed out of the alley, his driver spotted him and started the car. Arthur opened the rear door and sat down diagonally to the driver. This time, he did not bother being vague in his instructions, as he ordered the man directly.

"A cab left from the street behind us moments ago. I want you to follow it from a safe distance." he said while he attempted to catch his breath.

The cabby nodded as he did moved onto the road, performing a three point turn before driving back in the direction they had come from. Soon, he spotted the taxi he was asked to follow, and slowed down to maintain a safe distance. The man didn't ask questions, as he understood that he was payed to do as he was told.

It became obvious very quickly that they were simply returning to where they had come from, and Arthur began to question whether Hartman really was the Copycat. Returning home with a drunk girl was unlikely to lead to murder, as it would be beyond stupid to kill where one lived. The real Copycat could be out there killing someone right now, while Arthur was chasing a false lead. But it was too late to stop now, so he kept his thoughts to himself and allowed his driver to follow Hartman's cab.

When he neared the high rise building where his journey had started, Arthur asked his driver to stop well ahead of their destination. Although he had identified a potential rapist, perhaps today's stake out was a bust. He did not have sufficient evidence to confirm whether the younger man he had followed today was the Copycat, nor did he have enough information to eliminate him from the list of suspects. He would need to spend more time observing Hartman, which meant he was nowhere closer to his goal after an entire night of work.

He absentmindedly handed his driver another hundred bucks as promised, and stepped out of the cab while ignoring the man's thanks and well wishes. He walked down the street for a few minutes, lost in thought, as he reevaluated his current suspects and their profiles,

Arthur sighed as he pulled out a cigarette from his almost empty packet and held it in his lips. He brought out his lighter and ignited it, shielding the small flame from the wind with his hand. As he held the flame up to the cigarette and took the first breath of smoke, he noticed a black sedan pull out of the basement garage of a building in front of him and drive off into the night.

He stood frozen for a few seconds as he processed what had just happened. Moments after a man on his shortlist of suspects returned home with an intoxicated woman, another car had left the same building. The chances of these two events happening independently at this time of the night was far too small, and it did not take long for him to figure out what was going on. He coughed out the smoke in his lungs, and ran back to the cab he had just left.

The cabby had not left the spot where he had dropped Arthur off, as he was busy counting his earnings for the night. There was a fat smile on his face as he saw the three hundred-dollar bills among his other bills which were at most a twenty. Suddenly he heard a loud knock on his window, and turned his head to find himself staring down the barrel of a revolver.

He gawked at the sight as he raised his hands up in surrender, still holding his money. He then noticed the person on the other side of the gun, and his fear turned to shock. His generous patron was now robbing him? Why now? There were much better opportunities to do so earlier.

Before he could give voice to any of his questions, Arthur spoke up.

"Get out! I need to borrow your car!" he said in a forceful voice. "NOW!" he yelled when the man did not respond to his words and only stared back at him dumbly. Finally, the cabby reacted, opening his door and stepping out with his hands raised above his head. Arthur saw that the keys were still inserted into the ignition, so did not bother wasting anymore time on his victim and immediately entered the car.

He turned the key to start the engine and drove off in a hurry, forgetting to even close the driver-side door, which loudly slammed shut as the car began to accelerate. The cabby could only stare with his mouth hung open, still holding onto his three hundred-dollar bills.