Adrenaline from the confrontation still racing through his blood caused Erik to open the door to Madame Giry's office with more force than he'd intended. It had taken considerable discipline to focus on dealing with that drunken fool instead of examining the truth of the Vicomte's assessment of Meg. Now he had a few moments of time to deal with it and the accusation would not stop repeating as a dissonant chord ruining the music in his mind. Erik stalked past the desk to the shelves and pulled down the accounting books. These were supposed to be twins to the books in his room, updated weekly by Madame Giry for his perusal. The man known to Madame Giry only as the Opera Ghost had never revealed his true history to her, nor his private holdings. Sometimes he wondered if the aging ballet instructor had actually begun to believe her own fantasy of discovering him in the circus as a child.
Madame Giry had tied her fortunes to his, for better or for worse in those dark days. She'd been a widow with a young daughter to raise and few prospects. Even the truly talented dancers struggle for a position once past their prime, let alone a dancer who'd left the theater for a respectable marriage. She'd come to the Opera for a position as the concierge on the recommendation of an old friend. Erik had discovered the very young Meg dancing alone in the wings, long after she should have been in bed. Deciding that a passion for art should be rewarded, Erik tested Madam Giry's ambitions for her daughter. He asked for small favors and left a note suggesting he could turn Meg into an empress. Through the months she earned his trust by performing those favors without hesitation. Erik arranged for Madame Giry to rise a few places in the theatre after he discovered her gift for choreography. A few unfortunate accidents and a suggestive note to the manager had sufficed to oust the former choreographer.
Madam Giry proved her own cunning in using the theatre gossip to magnify her own importance. As the rescuer of the Ghost rather than the servant, Madame Giry could claim more power in front of the opera's denizens than she truly owned. Erik allowed her tales to spread as the story she contrived to garner sympathy for OG had proven useful in many ways. She'd confirmed his existence, creating more fear and excitement among the performers. Little Meg had been protected from the less civilized among the crew by their fear of the Ghost's Lasso. The Daroga had been thrown off-track, arriving in Paris too late to affect the outcome of his disastrous rampage. Raoul had underestimated his abilities and been caught in his traps. Here on Coney Island his 'secret history' added to the mystery of his show and drew performers seeking understanding.
The slight scuff of a boot and a small breath informed him of the presence of Fleck. The lack of the thump of a cane proved Madame Giry did not accompany her. "Mister Y, if you are seeking Madame Giry, she is overseeing the final preparations for tonight's performance."
The aerialist's voice carried no fear or awe, and Erik took a moment to muse on the strangeness of that lack. Having Christine and Raoul here again had brought back the old memories of the Opera, when he played the fearsome Opera Ghost. Here he was respected without the accompanying fear. He lived as openly as he desired at Phantasma, even able to go out onto the streets without hiding beneath a cloak. He lived as a man and not a shadow. Even his time in Persia had not been as free as here on Coney Island.
"No, Mistress Fleck, I am not seeking Madame Giry. Do not inform her I was here." Erik took empty ledgers from the storage cabinet and filled in the bookshelves. While it would not fool the manager long, with the performance tonight Madame Giry would not bother about the books until morning. He turned to see a strange look upon Fleck's face. As one of the three original members of Phantasma other than the Parisians, Mistress Fleck knew the master much better than some others and had always been one of his informants regarding the personal lives of the cast. While he'd never asked about Meg or Madame Giry, assuming he knew them well enough, Mistress Fleck may have some new knowledge he'd overlooked.
"Follow me." Erik left the office and took the public stairs to his own rooms, the footsteps following behind a confirmation of Mistress Fleck's obedience. Despite needing to prepare for the performance, Fleck took advantage of the rare opportunity to see the Master's domain. Only a few were allowed access to his offices other than Madame Giry. Every time she was allowed, Mistress Fleck took the opportunity to try and learn more about her mysterious employer. The quiet thump of the ledgers dropping onto the organ bench pulled her attention back to the master.
"What do you know of Meg's life outside Phantasma?" Mistress Fleck thought for a moment. Fleck knew better than to believe the rumors spread by the rest of the cast about his omnipotence, so his question did not completely surprise her. Most of the cast felt Mister Y knew everything about everyone and would have been shocked to be asked. While no one ever saw Mister Y do anything other than compose and give orders, every performer had found small things or comforts added to his or her room. Things they didn't ask for but dearly cherished, like the photograph of Millie's secret daughter who was being raised by relatives out west. Or Samuel the fiddler's heirloom pocket watch which had been sold the month before he arrived at Phantasma, but mysteriously showed up under his pillow. Most of Phantasma was incredibly loyal to the Master, but Meg took it to an extreme. She desperately sought the Master's attention and it was clear to the rest that the Master favored her though Meg herself never seemed to notice.
"Meg doesn't have a life outside of Phantasma. Other than her daily swims and her weekly banking errands she spends all her time here practicing, Master. She aims for perfection, but never feels like she achieves it." She didn't tell him that Meg was desperate for his attention. The master was a genius – surely he already knew of Meg's fixation. Fleck watched as Mister Y chose one ledger from the group he'd taken from Madame Giry's office and took it to the table. He looked over at her, pale mask gleaming slightly in the soft light.
"Thank you, Mistress Fleck. I am sure you have much to do with the opening this evening." She nodded and left the office as Erik pulled down his copy of the first ledger of Phantasma. Meg should not have been involved in banking at all, let alone weekly banking errands. After the first month in Coney Island Erik had set up access to his accounts and had taken over the banking duties entirely. Madame Giry's responsibility ended when she copied the accounts onto Erik's private books and deposited the cash into his safe.
The first pages of the ledgers showed exactly what should be. More debt than funds to pay for it and creditor accounts. Then the differences started to show up. Credits with a small M next to them, in amounts that shouldn't have existed with the mark of certain creditors as well. Those credits continued all through the end of the first ledger. Some credits appeared to be for taxes, permits, or fees while others appeared to correlate to the newspaper advertisements. None of the credits or original amounts appeared in Erik's ledgers, only the adjusted sums. It seemed the drunken fool spoke truth in the bar.
Innocent Meg sold more than her dancing, and on his behalf. Or so she thought. Small wonder the vendors had been willing to agree to his terms without his usual intimidation tactics. He'd thought America to be different, but it was no different than France or Persia. Every little crumb has a price. Perhaps he should have been less secretive about his true wealth when Madame Giry asked, instead of merely informing her he would cover any debts they incurred. Did the woman truly think he built his home beneath the opera house on a beggar's income? Even his salary from the managers did not cover the quality of the furnishings as well as his life's necessities. He may have been an embarrassment to his mother but he had still been the legal heir to a respectable family fortune, and his genius had only increased it over the years.
The Phantom of the Paris Opera put away his ledgers. Perhaps it was time to make good on his promise to Madame Giry, and turn Meg into an empress. He had dowry enough set aside for Meg, now he only needed a suitable man. Erik would have to take care of it next week. With everything riding on Christine's performance this evening, he could not concentrate on the task well enough to do it justice. He needed to find a way to prevent Raoul from convincing Christine to walk away. He paused a moment as an idea slowly developed. With his new knowledge of Meg's contributions to the show, the little bits of odd behavior she'd displayed began to weave together in a tragic requiem. Erik let the notes play in his mind for a few moments to find the pattern. Perhaps the hero could be of some use after all. The thrill of rescuing the diva in distress could easily distract the fool long enough for Erik to steal Christine's heart completely. Rising to his feet, the master of Phantasma used the hidden passageways to make his preparations.