“Very clever, Poligny,” Richard started. “But this, as well as the note you sent to us, is not going to convince us that we’re actually working against a ghost and not two pranksters. Now, if you don’t mind,” he sarcastically remarked as he took his watch out of his vest pocket, “I don’t have the time for any more of this ghost business. I’d like to get back to my dinner.”
He got up and headed for the door, while motioning for Moncharmin to accompany him. My old managers also got up and shook their heads at each other. Then Poligny raised his voice and also headed for the door, placing his hand against it.
“We’re only trying to help you get started on the right foot, I assure you. You can call this thing whatever you wish. He calls himself OG or the Opera Ghost, while those who’ve been here a long time call him the lost soul of the commune. The chorus girls call him the Phantom of the Opera. Believe me, it doesn’t matter what you think he is or what you choose to call him. If you don’t comply with his wishes from the start, you’re only asking for a lot of unnecessary trouble. It will be easier on both of you, and your business, if you just do what he asks. Pay him his wages and keep Box Five open for his use. It’s really the wisest choice.”
Richard, still not a believer, removed Poligny’s hand from the door. “You see, you’ve made too many mistakes in your little play, Poligny. If that were all this entity was asking for, then it would be a simple procedure to have him arrested for his game of extortion whenever he enters Box Five or picks up his money.”
“I can see how it would appear to be that simple,” Debienne interjected. “But tonight was the first time we’ve ever seen him. We hear his laughter at times and we get notes from him often, but we’ve never laid eyes on him before tonight. Neither have the police when we’ve called them in to investigate. You can even talk to the magistrate about this and read his reports.
“We didn’t make this up for you. It’s been going on for as long as we’ve been here. In fact,” he said softly as he glanced at his partner, “he’s the reason we’ve decided on an early retirement. We’re quite tired of his tyrannical mandates over what he considers his domain, and we’ll be glad to be rid of the whole troublesome affair.”
My new managers were still skeptical and again chuckled and shook their heads.
“Very well. Have your fun,” Moncharmin replied. “But I can assure you that we’ll not pay this man 20,000 francs a month, and we intend to sell Box Five just as often as we can.”
The new managers walked out of the door with Poligny’s words following them, “Go ahead and try, but, when it doesn’t work, remember our warning.”
Poligny and Debienne once more gave each other that look and then followed the other two men back to the foyer of the ballet to finish their party. I started back to my home but then changed my mind, so I also headed back to the party, with Richard’s words ringing in my head—I don’t have time for this. I entered the closest office, and, after locating a pen and some paper, I wrote Richard a note.
Once done, I rendered a server unconscious and dragged him into an empty room. Then, after putting his jacket on, I entered in among the merrymakers again. With a large silver tray raised in one hand, I reached across Richard’s chest and removed his dinner plate, along with his pocket watch. Then, while placing his dessert plate in front of him, I slipped my note in his watch pocket. I moved back into a corner behind a bronze sculpture of Pythia and placed my words on Richard’s shoulder.
“What time is it?”
Without interrupting the conversation he was having with an attractive woman sitting across the table from him, he reached into his pocket for his watch. But his fingers came out with only the note that he quickly dropped on the table. He frowned and I smiled—let the games begin. He started patting his pockets, getting to his feet to check them all.
Moncharmin looked at the strange antics of his partner and asked, “What’s the matter?”
“My watch is missing!” Richard exclaimed.
Instantly, Poligny and Debienne again looked at each other, and then they started looking around the room, not for his watch but for me.
After watching Richard search for his watch for an uncomfortable amount of time, Moncharmin reached for the note. He opened it, and then his mouth dropped open. Slowly, he reached up and laid his hand on Richard’s arm, while holding the note up to him. Richard looked down at him without halting his search for his watch, but then he finally stopped looking and reached for the note and read it. He was silent, with his eyes locked on the small piece of paper in his hands. Then, one by one, those around him stopped talking and gave him their attention.
Finally, Debienne asked, “What is it?”
“Just a note,” he answered sheepishly.
“What does it say, or is it personal?” Poligny asked.
“I believe you already know what it says, Monsieur Poligny. Another very clever trick, masterfully executed. Now where’s my watch?”
Richard held out his hand to Poligny, but Poligny only shrugged his shoulders in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Give me my watch,” Richard demanded as his voice moved up a notch.
All eyes were on Poligny. “I don’t have your watch. Have you gone mad? What are you talking about?”
Richard crumpled up the note and tossed it across the table right on top of Poligny’s dessert. “For the last time, give me my watch.”
Poligny’s mouth dropped open and his brow severely wrinkled. Then Debienne, trying to defuse the situation, stood up, reached over and took the piece of crumpled paper from Poligny’s plate, and opened it. After reading it, he looked at Poligny with a straight face.
“You’d better read this.”
He cautiously, took the note from Debienne’s hand and proceeded to read it for all to hear.
My Dear Monsieur Richard,
You didn’t have time to consider the wishes of your Opera Ghost, so now your Opera Ghost has your means of telling time. Take the time to learn of my wishes and comply with them, and then I’ll return your timepiece.
Simply,
OG
Eleven
The room fell to silence, and, if it weren’t for the sound of the servers removing plates, I would have sworn I could hear my managers’ brains working. The silence was immediately broken by Richard’s continuing accusations about his watch. Apparently they needed more proof that I was a very real threat to their continued success at the opera house, but I couldn’t think about it right then. My main concern at that moment was to get rest and then to be in Perros with Christine.
I closed my weary eyes and laid my forehead against the back of Pythia’s robe, taking a deep breath in preparation for my exit. As I turned my head to look around the sculpture for my opportunity to leave, my nose brushed against the bronze and then promptly proceeded to fall off, hitting the statue several times before it came to rest on the marble at my feet.
I was horrified and instantly reached for my mask in my pocket, only to remember that I was in a server’s jacket and not my coat. I looked at my nose on the floor, grabbed it up quickly, and tried to replace it, but my face was sweaty and clammy, preventing my nose from adhering to it. My heart began to race before I calmed enough to think my way through my unusual predicament.
This should be quite simple, I thought, especially considering all eyes in the room were still focused on the arguing managers. I only have to hold the tray up in my left hand, place my right hand over my missing nose, lower my head, and walk along the wall on my right side toward the door. It sounded simple in my head, and, thankfully, it was. Soon, I was back in the room where I’d left my coat and mask. The unconscious man I’d also left there was gone, so, once I put on my coat and my trustworthy and comfortable mask, I headed for my home.
I was almost to one of my passages when I heard steps behind me, causing me to slip inside the closest room and wait for them to pass.
But when the man came into view, I quietly gru
mbled, “Oded! What does he think he’s doing?”
He hadn’t come for the gala or he would be going in the opposite direction, so what was he doing there? I easily answered my own question. He’d probably heard about Buquet and had come to do his own investigating. I ground my teeth. I was so tired of him continually suspecting me of everything that went wrong at the opera house; however, he was usually close in his assumptions.
Once he passed me, I started following him. One corner after another he turned, and at each one he paused, watching and listening. I was so frustrated with him and his meddling in my business, but then I wondered if I should confront him and tell him the entire story. I could even show him my wound so he would believe my version of self-defense.
I was considering tapping him on the shoulder, but, by that time, my stomach was very sick, and I knew I needed to lie down, not spend hours convincing him of my innocence. So I decided on a simpler approach.
I wanted him to know that his frequent visits to my home didn’t go unnoticed by me, and that I didn’t like his constantly searching for my whereabouts. I wanted him to understand how angry he was making me, and that sometimes I wanted to knock off his head. Oded knew me better than any man, so he knew my actions always had a hidden meaning.
With that in mind, I decided to walk up behind him and knock his silly hat off his head. That should send him a clear message without my having to talk to him. If I managed to send his cap in the opposite direction from where I wanted to go, it would give me time to disappear. But, like so many other events that day, it didn’t go exactly the way I’d intended.
I was almost in the position to execute my plan when he stopped in front of the stage manager’s door and knocked. Swiftly, I moved up behind him with my hand raised in the air and ready to strike. But, before my last step, the door opened abruptly and there stood Gabriel, looking straight at me with his face drained of all color. I jumped back quickly, and so did he. I was safely hidden in the shadows, but poor Gabriel’s flight was not as successful.
In his haste to get away, he bumped into several large objects in his office, knocking them to the floor with a loud crash. He even stumbled into his piano so hard that the lid fell down on his arm. Then, while holding his injured limb, he frantically tried to open the side door, only to bang his head on it when it opened. He cried out when he slammed his shoulder against the door frame on his way out. Once he managed to escape that room, he started running.
I glanced at Oded, who was standing in the same spot with his arms spread in utter confusion. I guess once his mind cleared, he started running after Gabriel and calling out for him to wait. Gabriel reached the stairs and began running down them, only to fall when halfway down and tumble the rest of the way, landing in a heap at the feet of two couples.
I was holding my breath until he managed to get to his feet with the help of a chorus girl. Then I took a heated breath when I saw Oded hurrying down the stairs toward him. I knew the conversation that would ensue, and I was glad I couldn’t hear it, but I did watch it.
Oded had a good hold on Gabriel’s shoulder, and his head was bent down, looking right in Gabriel’s eyes. Gabriel was shaking his head and waving his one good arm in the air. Emphatically, he patted the top of his head and his face and then motioned up the stairs, where I was hiding.
As Oded turned around toward the stairs, I pushed myself further back in the shadows. The traumatized Gabriel was still talking, but Oded was only nodding and still watching the top of the stairs. When he released Gabriel’s arm and took a step in my direction, I knew it was time for me to leave. I took off quickly toward my closest passage, but it didn’t take long before I knew I’d never make it before Oded caught up with me. So I chose the door closest to me to escape behind. Then, with trembling hands, I removed my personal key from my vest pocket and unlocked the door. Once inside, I locked the door and leaned back against it, with the room swirling around my head.
Shortly, I heard Oded’s steps almost running through the hall and I held my breath. His steps faded and I breathed again. My head was leaning back against the door and my eyes were shut when I heard his steps again, only slower. Then I heard each door in succession being shaken. I put my hand on the doorknob to make sure it was locked securely. Soon, Oded was at my door and I felt the knob being jostled, first softly and then harder. I was again holding my breath and waiting for that tenacious daroga to tire and leave me alone.
At times, I seriously didn’t understand that man. When all others fled from me, as if I was hell’s fire, he walked right into that fire without a hint of fear. Why?
When I didn’t hear his steps, I slid down the door and sat on the floor, waiting to be sure he wasn’t outside somewhere waiting for me to cross his path. I didn’t hear his steps again, but I did hear him calling my name.
“Erik! Erik! I know you’re here somewhere. Stop being childish and talk to me.”
He repeated those words a few more times and then there was nothing, so I continued to wait. Several times I fell asleep while sitting there, only to be awakened by a stabbing pain in my thigh. I was there for over two hours before my anxiety about making that train to Perros outweighed my fear of running into Oded, so I got up and cautiously left.
As I staggered home, I thought over that crazy scene with Gabriel and Oded. At first I was amused, but then I felt angry, and lastly I felt hurt. Why were people so frightened of me that they’d act so ridiculously? I was only a man. He could have killed himself, and, I’m sure, I’d be blamed for his death. I’d had enough of that night’s ludicrous events, so I changed the subject of my thoughts and worked on my next challenge.
I knew from past experience that I would sleep for a long time if I weren’t awakened by something, and I couldn’t miss that train. Therefore, I had to rig something to wake me, but what? By the time I reached my abode, I was struggling to stay on my feet and breathe at the same time, but I had to make my alarm before I could collapse. Fortunately, it didn’t take me too long.
With one of my small clocks and a buzzer from my alarm system on the lake, I made an alarm clock. Then, I went to my room, collapsed on my bed, clothes and all, rolled in my quilt, closed my eyes, and fell asleep instantly, with my alarm clock still in my hand. The next thing I knew, I was in the middle of a horrendous nightmare.
I was lying on the landing with Joseph Buquet, and even though we were both dead, I could see him staring at me with his sickening smile, I could smell his unusual liquor and cologne, and I could feel his fingers still pulling on my hair. I couldn’t move away from him, and I couldn’t turn my head or close my eyes, so I was forced to watch his dead and smiling face for all eternity.
I could see the pant legs and skirts of the heartless people who nonchalantly walked over us, but I couldn’t see who they were. I could hear their cheerful chatter that wouldn’t stop for even one moment to mourn our deaths. I wanted to rebuke them strongly for their hardheartedness, but I couldn’t speak. I wanted to hide my dead face, without a nose or a mask, so they couldn’t gape at me. But I couldn’t move—I was frozen in time.
Then I felt something move against my hand—rats! They were eating my fingers, but I couldn’t move away from them. I felt my tears swell and roll from my eyes, knowing that without fingers I would never play my piano again.
Then the people walking over us began laughing at us, and they bent down to look right in my face. It was Christine and Raoul, laughing and laughing. I tried to scream at all of them, Christine, Raoul, and the rats, but nothing would come out of my gaping mouth. I tried and tried until, finally, like water surging through a broken dam, I screamed. I was still screaming when Raoul shouted at me to be quiet and started kicking me. It hurt horribly, but I was powerless to stop him. Then he shoved me off the landing, and I fell endlessly into a bottomless pit.
With a start, I woke when I hit the floor; still wrapped in my quilt. My alarm was still in my hand and vibrating my fingers. While laboring for breath, I disconnected
the alarm, sat up, began massaging my throbbing leg, and looked toward the light coming from my parlor.
Then I tried to draw the line between my nightmare and my real life. That part of my nightmares/real life relationship was always difficult, since they weren’t that different. While removing the tangled quilt from me, I visualized Joseph’s face, and I wondered how long it would take for it to leave my nightmares completely, or if it ever would. It had been 35 years since I saw my first victim’s blue face, yet he was usually one of my nightly visitors.
After struggling to my feet and limping into the bath, I leaned on the basin, trying to deal with my failing physical and emotional condition at the same time. The horrible and depressing feelings I’d have after a nightmare were sometimes more than I could bear, and my first thoughts went to morphine as an escape.
I began to rationalize that it could help with both problems, but I’d long since learned not to use it as an emotional crutch. If I did, it only made matters worse, so I had to wait until my emotions were under control before I could use it for my physical pain. I took several deep breaths and looked at my tub, and, even though I’d recently taken a bath, I had to take another one. I was once again drenched with sweat and felt dreadful, so under the water I retreated. Although it made my leg hurt worse, it did help me relax and clear my mind of my post-nightmare anxiety.
Once I was out of the bath, I gently patted the area around my wound dry. It wasn’t looking good, and it made me remember my promise to Doctor Leglise to go back to see him that day. I knew I couldn’t, not if I wanted to make the same train as Christine. So, while putting a clean dressing over my red and hot leg, I made a promise to myself to go back just as soon as I returned from Perros.
While still buttoning my shirt, I went to my music room to get my violin. I had it in my hand and was walking toward the door when I looked at my piano and sighed. The last few weeks I’d been so busy with Christine that I’d seriously neglected my piano, and I missed it. That feeling along with my nightmare made me thankful that I still had fingers to use in such a marvelous way. So I spent the next minutes with my fingers on the keys and enjoying my music.
Through Phantom Eyes: Volume Five - Christine Page 15
