The Hidden Man: A Phineas Starblower Adventure (Phineas Starblower Adventures)

by Giles

  The short man held out his hand and made the universal sign of “give me” at the same time he said, “rigsdalers.” Well there was no mistaking what he wanted, so Jon pretended to fumble in his pockets as the two edged closer. But they were not close enough so Jon grabbed the loose coins in his pocket and proceeded to drop them.

  “Oh dear! Oh dear!” Jon wailed and crouched down to pick up the coins. The younger man lunged in and tried to grab Jon by the collar. Anticipating the move Jon used his powerful legs and shot straight up from the crouch using the top of his head to slam the man under the jaw. Jon’s left hand shot out and grabbed the wrist of the knife hand twisting hard to the outside. The knife flew out of blondie’s hand and skidded across the cobblestones at about the same time the villain went down in a heap. Jon whirled to face the second man only to catch sight of him rounding the corner out of the alley at a dead run.

  “Harrumph” Jon grunted and began dusting off his pants. He froze at the sound of a soft step behind him. Balancing on the balls of his feet he turned quickly and assumed a fighting stance to face this new threat.

  He was only a little surprised to see a boy standing there. They both stared intently at one another. Jon sized the lad up, the boy was better dressed than the two who tried to rob him and for all his intensity his body was fairly relaxed. He judged the boy to be somewhere between twelve and fourteen years old; light brown hair, blue eyes, average height and weight. The boy had a boldness and confidence that reminded him of himself at that age. Jon relaxed and straightened up. “I don’t suppose you speak English?” he asked.

  “I do.” The boy said. “You need help with that?” He gestured to the coins on the ground.

  Jon shrugged and the boy began picking up the coins. The steward watched critically as the lad picked up the coins and handed all of them to Jon.

  “You want a short job?” Jon asked.

  “Sure. But we should get out of here, Fritzie will not be happy when he wakes up.”

  Jon grinned. “I don’t imagine so.” The pair quickly exited the alley leaving behind the now softly moaning Fritzie.

  “So, ah, you knew that bloke back there? That Fritzie?” Jon began tentatively.

  “Yeah, well, kind of.”

  Jon raised an eyebrow but did not comment. Instead he asked, “What should I call you?”

  The boy shrugged and posed his own question, “What should I call you?”

  “Hm...there’s an echo here.” Jon chuckled. “How ‘bout you call me Jon.” Jon was careful to pronounce his name as a Dane would with the first letter sounding more like a “Y” than the English “J”.

  “Alright, I see the way here, you can call me Hans.”

  Jon laughed, he found he rather liked this lad. He just hoped he could trust him.

  “What you want me to do Jon?”

  “I want you to be my eyes and ears.”

  The kid shrugged. “Easy enough. When? Where?”

  “Right now or within the next hour.”

  “Why don’t you do it yourself? You some kind of spy?” Hans narrowed his eyes and looked sideways at Jon.

  This time Jon really laughed; a great big belly laugh. “No lad, nothing so romantic. And not to worry you won’t hear anything like a murder confession or a state secret.”

  The boy seemed a little disappointed and frowned. “So what is it you want to know?”

  “I want to know who a particular gentleman talks to and what he says to them.”

  “But if it is nothing important why do you want to know?”

  “Smart lad. I did not say it was not important, I implied that it would not be important to you or the police or any government. My employer has business dealings with this gentleman and this is my way of seeing if he is to be trusted. I also want to know why he is going to the opera house seven hours before the opera begins, especially when he said he already had tickets.”

  “Opera? Yuck! I am not going to any opera. I don’t care what you pay me.” The lad turned as if to walk away.

  Jon grabbed him by the shirt collar. “Hold on now. You don’t have to go to the opera just the opera house. And how about I pay you two rigsdalers?”

  The boy jerked away from Jon and indignantly straightened his shirt. He narrowed his eyes again and said, “Make it five.”

  “Three.”

  “How long do I have to watch?”

  “Not sure, an hour maybe?”

  “Three then. Are we going to the Det Kongelige Teater now?”

  “Yes, that’s where we are heading.”

  The lad rolled his eyes. “Some spy you are, we’re going the wrong way.”

  Jon realized Hans was correct, he had been so intent on their conversation that he turned left out of the market entrance instead of right. He chuckled to cover his gaff. “I was just seeing if you were paying attention. After you.” Jon turned and motioned in the correct direction.

  Hans rolled his eyes again, the kid was not fooled for a moment but did turn and move toward the Teater. “Who is this gent I am watching and what is he supposed to be doing?”

  It was Jon’s turn to shrug. "I have no idea of what he is doing, I want you to watch and tell me who he talks to and what he says.”

  “The Teatre is a big place, is this guy an actor? Do I have to figure out how to get back stage? I can do that you know.”

  Jon chuckled. “I guess you could say he was an actor, just not one in tonight’s opera. No, I am hoping it will not be so complicated as that. If we’re lucky he will go no further than the lobby but we will just have to play it as we see it.” Jon was thoughtful for a moment, he deliberately did not answer the lad’s question as to who the “gent” was and was wondering how much he should tell the boy. He weighed how much the lad was likely to know about political figures. The boy was obviously educated and intelligent not to mention his English was nearly flawless. If not for the light accent Jon would have taken him for any English schoolboy. No, he decided, let the kid read into the situation whatever he wanted, it would not be a good idea for Jon to actually give him any information.

  A few yards and another right turn brought the unlikely pair within sight of the Det Kongelige Teater. Jon eyed the building looking for a good place to wait for the arrival of Gyldenfeldt. It’s square, flat-faced structure did not offer much in the way of concealment; nor did the open plaza in front of the building. At least there was quite a bit of foot traffic so it should not be too hard to blend in when the time came. Jon slowed his step as they approached the front doors of the theater.

  “Is he here?” Hans asked softly.

  “I don’t think so; I don’t see his carriage.” Jon replied placing his hand on the lad’s shoulder. “Let’s go in and have a look around.”

  The boy shrugged Jon’s hand off. Jon looked down and shook his head placing his hand on Hans’ shoulder. “I think you should pretend to be my son.” He said softly but firmly.

  For the briefest moment Hans glared at Jon then smoothed his expression and grumbled something unintelligible. Taking that as acquiescence Jon proceeded to the door gently guiding the boy.

  The foyer of the theater was large and elegant affair and at this time of day flooded with sunlight. Straight ahead was obviously the “box office” which was really a half-wall of pale wood panels carved with grecian figures that supported a white marble countertop. Several uniformed figures moved about on its other side, one was speaking to a fashionably dressed lady on Jon’s side of the wall while the others appeared to be doing paperwork. There were quite a few people in the lobby to Jon’s relief. Some were sitting on the pale blue couches placed around the room, and some were looking at the framed playbills that lined the walls.

  “Let’s go upstairs.” Hans said softly.

  Jon looked at the pair of staircases that began on either side of the box office. They curved up and around over the box office worker’s heads to a second story balcony. “They probably won’t let us.” He answered quietly.


  “One way to find out.” Hans said as he ducked out from under Jon’s hand and raced up to the counter speaking excitedly in Danish and pointing to the upper floor.

  One of the clerks looked up at the boy and smiled. He then looked beyond the lad to see Jon’s mild look of panic as he hurried to catch up with Hans. The clerk’s smile widened as he raised his hand and spoke kindly then gestured with his head toward the stairs. Jon was grateful that he did not have to understand Danish to understand ‘it is alright, go ahead’. He smiled at the clerk and then rolled his eyes as Hans dashed off up the stairs. Jon scowled and raced up the stairs after the lad. When he got to the top he made a “hut!” sound. The boy turned and walked back to Jon who wagged his finger at Hans as if he were scolding.

  “That was well done lad. Be sure to thank the nice man when we leave.” Was what Jon actually said. Hans smiled and nodded still playing his part. The pair moved off to explore the balcony.

  Jon had to admit that the balcony was perfect for what they were doing. It completely circled the square lobby below and the open balcony railing made it so that you could take a step back and not be seen spying. Jon looked toward the front of the building and saw that the balcony extended to the outside of the theater via two sets of beautiful french doors. These doors now stood open which explained the amount of sunlight in the room.

  Jon whirled around at the soft sound of a door opening. There stood Hans at one of the eight doors that ran along the rear of the gallery. He moved softly up to peer over the lad’s shoulder. This seemed to be the first level of the theaters upper seating, it was only about four rows deep so their view below was mostly unobscured. They could easily see most of the floor-seats, the orchestra pit and the stage from here. There were quite a few musicians moving around in the pit, Jon guessed they were either getting ready to practice or just finishing. Either way it would probably be a good idea to close the door. Apparently the boy agreed as he was already in the process of doing so.

  “Did you see the curtains?” Hans asked. “They cover more stairs.”

  Jon had not seen them as a matter of fact. There were two sets one on each side of the rear wall and seemed to be made of the same ivory damask fabric that covered the walls up here. They were easy to miss at first glance as the eye was drawn to the elaborately carved pale wood doors. Hans darted over and held back one of the pair of curtains on the right and indeed there was a staircase. In the blink of an eye Hans disappeared and the curtain twitched closed.

  Jon swore softly, and followed the lad, he really did not want to let him out of his sight. The staircase was wider than Jon first thought, three people could easily ascend at the same time. It was also rather dark so Jon paused to let his eyes adjust. After several seconds he could see that there were quite a few gaslight chandeliers, he guessed that when they were lit this staircase would be quite spectacular.

  The stair opened into a very large room which was quite surprising given that this too was a balcony. This must be the “boxes” Jon thought as he looked around. Currently the partitions were leaning up against the walls and the chairs were scattered everywhere. Jon could imagine what it would look like when it was set up. The massively heavy curtains on each side of the room would be drawn across, separating the majority of the room from the seating area. This was probably the upper class reception room he surmised.

  “Hans?” Jon called softly trying to locate the lad.

  “Here.” Came the reply.

  Jon turned to see the boy’s head thrust through the curtains on the opposite side of room that he had entered from. Jon chuckled. “I take it that goes back down to the balcony?”

  Hans grinned and disappeared. Jon followed the boy back down to the first balcony.

  “What took you so long?”

  Jon did not reply just rolled his eyes.

  “Did you see the other set of stairs? There are three balconies! And I found the entrance to the royal boxes.” Hans paused and took a breath. “I didn’t find any way to get backstage though. We should go downstairs and explore some more.” Hans started toward the curved stairs leading down.

  Jon reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “Shhh! Not now. Now we wait for the Lens....for the man I am looking for.”

  “The Lenssss?” Hans asked. The lad had a look of cunning on his face.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Jon growled and moved closer to the balcony overlooking the lobby and sat down. He looked up at Hans and patted the floor.

  Hans sighed and sat by Jon. “How long...”

  “Shhh! Listen, I hear a carriage outside.”

  “Yes but how do you know...”

  “Shhh!”

  Hans rolled his eyes but otherwise sat still, listening. They were rewarded a few minutes later with the sight of the LensBaron Gyldenfelt sailing through the front doors of the theater. He was accompanied by one of the footmen and the bodyguard Marius. Jon noted that indeed the LensBaron had changed clothes. He seemed to be decked out in full court regalia including a red sash and what looked like military medals. Jon fished out his pocket watch and checked the time. Hm, he thought, the footman was right by Jon’s reckoning they had just had time for the LensBaron to get all dolled up and return. He snapped the watch’s cover closed and gestured towards Gyldenfelt. “Translate.” He said to Hans.

  “Do you know who that is?” The lad asked, his eyes were round and wide..

  “Yes.” Jon said curtly. “The man I need you to translate.”

  Hans swallowed and nodded. Both watched as the LensBaron approached the box-office clerks. In a very abrasive tone the LensBaron began making demands. Even though Jon could not exactly understand the words he certainly was familiar with that nasty tone. It was the same one people of privilege used toward the common worker all over the world. Jon gritted his teeth and elbowed Hans.

  The lad glared at Jon before speaking. “The LensBaron says that he wants to inspect his box for tonight’s performance of ‘Der Thurm zu Babel’. He is also demanding to see the manager of the Teater.”

  “And...” Jon prompted when Gyldenfeldt began speaking harshly again.

  “He is calling the clerk names, or rather he is outlining the clerk’s lineage of stupidity.”

  “Why?”

  “Well apparently the fellow did not immediately recognize him and he is making him wait while the other clerk gets the manager.”

  The bullying went on for a few more minutes until a new voice joined the fray. Jon did not have to work hard to figure out the manager had arrived. The smooth oily tone and mildly obsequious way he said ‘LensBaron Gyldenfeldt” told Jon all he needed to know. Oh how many times have I used that particular tone and inflection, he wondered. At least Miss Tash never acted that way, in fact since he joined her service he was pretty sure he had never once used that tone. Damn! I sure have a great position he told himself.

  “That is the manager.” Hans said. “He is explaining to the LensBaron that the boxes are not yet set up for the performance. He is also telling him that they were not expecting him this evening but that it would be his honor to prepare the LensBaron’s box personally. He’s also asking if he might prepare a private reception for the LensBaron and his guests or if he will be attending the official reception after the opera.”

  Gyldenfeldt grunted a reply and Hans’ eyes widened again. “Uh, you’re not going to believe this.”

  “What and why would I not believe it?”

  “The LensBaron is saying that he is tired of fighting old battles. He admired the temerity of the German official that dared to send him tickets to this event. He says he decided to see what passed for culture in Prussia first hand and he is looking forward to the reception most of all.” Hans shook his head in obvious wonder. “The LensBaron Gyldenfeldt is famous for his hatred of the Prussians. I cannot believe what I just heard.”

  “And I think you are more than what you seem. You display quite a bit of political savvy for a lad your age.”

  Hans shrugged.
“I listen to adults sometimes and like I said, the LensBaron is famous. I bet he starts something tonight.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because the LensBaron said publicly that he would never step foot into a room with a Prussian dog without leave to kill the bastard. And if you never heard that then you must not be a political sabbie or whatever it was you called me.”

  “So what is the manager saying now?”

  “Just more sucking up, I think he is as surprised as I am.” Hans leaned forward slightly, head cocked to one side. “The LensBaron sounds happy. He is asking who else is attending tonight.”

  Jon and Hans sat quietly and listened to the names the manager recited. When the manager finished his list the LensBaron spoke again. It was not hard to translate that Gyldenfeldt was adding his own name and that of his guest Phineas Starblower to the list. Jon could not help but smile, it was fairly obvious that the LensBaron was bragging.

  “Who is Fin-eas Star-blower?” Hans asked. “Well, whoever he is, the manager is impressed that he is attending as the LensBaron’s guest tonight.”

  “Eh” Jon replied with a shrug. “Why would I know?”

  Anyway, the LensBaron is leaving now. Are you going to pay me?” Hans narrowed his eyes and looked at Jon.

  “Has he said where he is going?”

  Hans made an exasperated ‘huh’ sound. When Jon made to cuff him he ducked out of the way. “Yes! He said he was going back home to rest up for tonight’s performance.”

  “I wonder what that means...” Jon said out loud.

  “How should I know?” Hans said getting to his feet.

  Jon pulled him back down. “Not yet, wait till the carriage leaves.”

  They sat another moment or two. The carriage could be heard moving off out front and after a few more moments they heard the manager leaving the box office area.

  “Now we can go.” Jon got up and headed for the curved stairs.

  “Hey, what about my...”