Chapter Thirty-seven
From the window of the hotel's little restaurant, Christine watching her husband hurry across the square to La Belle Reve. It was a long time before someone…even from here, she could see that it was the club's bartender. After a moment, Raoul disappeared inside.
Christine slowly stirred her café au lait and shook her head.
She knew that Erik would not agree to help them. The Erik she had known in Paris would have…she was certain of that.
And why should he aid them now? Why should he help the woman who had abandoned him, the man she had married so quickly.
Erik…forgive me. I promise I will make it up to you…if only you will let me.
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Daniel frowned at the unexpected visitor as he led the young man up to the office. He'd tried to explain to him that Erik wasn't the sort of man you just called on.
But, when he'd given Erik the stranger's name, his employer had set aside the paperwork on his desk and, in tight voice, told Daniel to show him in.
When the bartender had left them, Erik leaned back in his chair and assessed his visitor.
"Have a seat, Monsieur de Chagny."
"You know my name?"
"Perhaps I saw it on the reservations list last night," Erik said with a smirk, "and you forget, Monsieur, that your wife and I are acquainted. In Paris, she was my…"
His voice trailed off into silence for a long moment.
She was my what…my friend…my protégé…my lover? It never came to that…there was nothing between us…just a few kisses, a few caresses…a promise of more…
He was suddenly very aware of the mask he wore…so hot and unyielding against his face.
And this man is her husband…
"What do you want, Monsieur?"
Raoul glanced once around the small office. It seemed a safe enough place to speak openly.
"I have been told…and I trust the man who told me this…that you are in possession of certain papers."
"Papers," Erik said, with a shrug and a wave of his hand towards his cluttered desk, "I assure you I have papers."
"I mean the letters of transit that were taken from the German couriers. I have reason to believe you have them. Or that you know where they are."
"If I told you I do, what then?"
"Monsieur, I need those letters of transit…two of them. For myself and for Christine."
"For your wife," Erik added blackly.
"Yes, Monsieur. For myself and my wife. I know you cared for her once…"
Erik rose and some of the papers fluttered from his desk.
"And that is none of your concern, de Chagny!"
Raoul rose, too, refusing to let himself be distracted by Erik's growing anger.
"I want to buy those letters of transit from you. I am prepared to meet any price."
"Any price?"
"Yes. I can offer you twice what the letters would bring on the black market."
Erik shook his head and walked to the window. From there, he could see the de Chagny's hotel. Was Christine there, waiting for her husband to return with those letters of transit. Did she even know her husband had come here.
"I have no interest in your money. Assuming that I have these letters, I can assure there are a great many others who would match that offer."
"You loved my wife, Monsieur Erik…she would not refuse…"
"You would make a whore of your own wife…you would sell Christine to a monster for the sake of a few scraps of paper," Erik said without turning, his voice terrifyingly calm.