43) Who´s with me?
The floor of the managers´ office was littered with crumpled pieces of paper. At least a dozen times they had begun the letter, yet they couldn´t even agree on the opening. ´Dear Opera Ghost´ had been rejected by both of them. ´Monsieur le Fantome´ had been too polite for M.Firmin´s taste, and M.André had disliked ´To the one causing all this trouble´.
They had finally put aside this problem to solve it later and had started the main part. Soon, however, they realised that they had no idea what to ask of the Opera Ghost. It was difficult to find the right words without sounding like two fools who lost people as easily as handkerchiefs.
"It is pointless to go on with this task.", M.Firmin exclaimed, throwing another piece of paper to the floor. "He´d never give us the answer we want, even if we somehow manage to write the perfect letter. Asking a madman for help – whose brilliant idea was that?" "Signor Piangi´s.", his partner reminded him. "And I still think it´s a good one. We have to do everything possible to rescue Mme.Giry from whatever situation she might be in."
M.Firmin shook his head. "She probably just woke up from a nap she had taken and went home, unaware that we´re searching for her.", he said, sounding not very convinced himself. He had the tendency to see things the way they were less complicated for him, but even this talent had its limits. So he wasn´t surprised when M.André gave back: "It couldn´t have been like that. It all happened much too quickly. If Mme.Giry had indeed woken up and left the box, we´d have met her in the corridor.".
"Does that mean that someone abducted her?", the other man asked. He already saw himself confronted with yet another lunatic who wanted his money. A knock at the door kept M.André from replying. "Come in!", he called. "Surely it´s the doctor.", he explained in a low voice. "I bet he´ll be angry about walking all the way in vain and ask for money, even though there was nothing to do." He gave a little sigh. Dealing with people in a bad mood had never been one of his favourite activities.
Yet it wasn´t the doctor who entered the office. It was Mme.Giry. "Madame…", the men muttered, staring at her as if she was an apparition. She didn´t look like the last time they had seen her, pale and miserable in Box Five. Now she was just like she always was, lively and energetic. "Messieurs.", she said with a brief nod, acting as if she was merely here for an appointment they had.
"What happened to you?", M.André asked. "Nothing extraordinary.", she replied, thinking that this probably was the biggest lie she had ever told. The conversation with Erik had been one of the most important in her life… and in Meg´s as well. But she had no time to ponder how she´d proceed with this subject as the managers were not content with her short answer. "What do you mean – nothing extraordinary?", M.Firmin shouted. His relief about seeing her alive and well had quickly turned into anger. "Why were you in Box Five, looking as pale as a ghost and scaring everyone?", his friend added.
"Oh, I had just gone there to talk to the Phantom when I felt a little faint and had to sit down. I must have fallen asleep for a minute.", the woman explained matter-of-factly. "And where did the blood on the balustrade come from?", M.André wanted to know. "I have no idea.", Mme.Giry said with a small smile. Silently she congratulated herself for having thought of going to her room first and combing her hair over the wound. It couldn´t be seen anymore.
Apparently M.Firmin wasn´t interested in the origin of some drops of blood. "You talked to the Opera Ghost? What did he say? Does he have any more demands? Or was he at least kind enough to tell you whom he wants to play the Tin Soldier?" She wasn´t certain which question to answer first, yet she noticed that it wasn´t necessary. Erik´s voice suddenly echoed through the room. "Why don´t you ask me yourself?"
The managers were thunderstruck. They should have been used to the fact that the Phantom was more or less omnipresent, but it was something hard to accept. "So… well, why did you have a conversation with our ballet mistress then?", M.Firmin dared voice his thoughts. "We are the managers; anything important has to be discussed with us."
"I choose to speak to whomever I please.", Erik said icily. Deciding he could as well make his point entirely clear while they were on the topic he went on: "I also give roles to the people I want to have. And the Tin Soldier will be played by me… if you don´t mind.". The last words were dripping with sarcasm.
Unfortunately M.Firmin was too agitated to notice it. "We do mind!", he cried. He had heard enough. A strange new opera and a rebellious ballet teacher were circumstances he could handle; a ghost on stage, however, was simply ridiculous. "Give the role to a decent artist or we… we won´t stage your opera at all!" His partner and Mme.Giry glanced at him in shock. He had clearly gone too far.
Erik´s mind was racing. He needed something to threaten them with, something more effective than raw meat on stage. "If ´The Steadfast Tin Soldier´ is not played, you´ll never seen Christine Daaé again!", he declared after a few seconds. "You thought she was in a pension? That was a lie – she´s with me. And if you don´t follow my instructions, she´ll stay with me for the rest of her life."