Chapter 6
Raoul and Christine followed Phelan to his personal cab. In a rather uncomfortable silence, one made more so by Phelan's incessant, mysterious smile, they wound their way to a seedy tavern known as The Dead Shark.
"What in the name of..." Raoul gaped, "We're not going into that!"
"Why ever not?" Phelan asked.
"It looks rough," Christine said.
"It's practically empty," Phelan replied smoothly, "Besides, there's a back room where we can be alone."
"Why is that so important?" Raoul asked suspiciously.
"You can't tell secrets with listening ears!" Phelan exclaimed, exasperated.
"Come, Raoul," Christine said. She felt as if she had to know what Phelan knew about Erik.
Reluctantly, Raoul followed Christine and Phelan into the shabby tavern. The smell of cigarette smoke, hard liquor, and dead fish filled the building to a nauseating degree. A drunken sailor slept in a corner, two wild youths sat at a table, playing cards, and a poor, little boy stood by the hearth, sweeping the ashes.
Phelan swept past the tavern's sites and into a back room. He closed the door after his 'guests' had entered and the three sat down at a crude table.
"Well?" Christine asked impatiently.
"Wait for me to open the window," Phelan replied, "It's smells rotten in here." The tenor pulled a grimy window open and a fresh breeze wafted in. "Good, good!" he said, breathing deeply.
"Well?" Christine was beyond eager for the information that the singer might give.
"Yes," Phelan said, sitting down, "I will begin. But first, promise you will not reveal what I am going to tell you. I've waited too long to let my reward pass into another man's hands!" The two others gave their word and the tenor went on, "You may not know this, but I have been looking for Erik for years."
"What?" Christine exclaimed, astonished that anyone, aside from those closely involved with the opera, should know of Erik. Even more astounding was the fact that Phelan knew the opera ghost's name.
"Wait!" Phelan replied, "No time for questions. Honestly, do you want to hear the story or not? Yes? Good. Right then, I have been looking for him. I have been looking because of two reasons. One, I have reason to believe that we might be half brothers, not that family sentimentality means anything to me. Shush! No questions! I'll reveal the long undusted family skeletons in due time," Phelan scowled and silenced whatever question might have occurred. He continued, "Two, Erik is a prodigy. He is a genius! Why, the government that controlled him and knew how to use his gifts properly..." Phelan beamed, "Let's just say that we shouldn't let such talent fall into the wrong hands."
"This isn't a town square," a burly man interrupted, "Order something or leave."
Phelan was ruffled by the interruption, but the three ordered glasses of some vin ordinaire, which was the best that the shoddy carried. The drinks were served warm and soured, but the three did find themselves sipping on them from time to time. After the glasses were serves, Phelan continued his story.
"Well, as I said, I am looking for Erik because of those reasons," Phelan went on.
Raoul interrupted, "You say he is a genius? Madame Giry told me the same. Oh, yes, I'll grant he's an artist. But, really, what would a government want with music and drawings?"
"That, monsieur, is where you are mistaken," Phelan answered, taking a sip on the cheep wine, "Although Erik is brilliant in the artistic fields, there are other talents that he possess, talents that people would kill for."
"Truly you exaggerate," Raoul scoffed.
"Do I?" Phelan asked, sneering.
Christine looked from her glass to her friend to the tenor, "Go on," she said.
"Oui. Allow me to tell you of some of Erik's exploits. Erik, I have reason to believe, was born of my mother and her first husband. Due to the birth defects that I feel sure you both are familiar with, both his parents despised Erik. Soon after his birth, his father died. Deep in debt and drowning loss of social status, my mother blamed her defective son. When he was two years old, she met the man who was to become my father. Wishing to rid herself of debt and make herself socially acceptable to my father, she sold her son to a traveling fair for seven crowns."
"What?" Christine gasped, "How could she?"
"How do you know this?" Raoul asked skeptically.
"I read things that should never be read, listen to things that should never be heard, and do things best left undone," Phelan replied without qualm, "Shall I continue?"
"Yes," Christine answered.
"Well, after being sold, Erik made several attempts to escape. Being still a very small child, these attempts were in vain. However, I was told that to insure against any possible escape, he was branded on the left shoulder with the mark of an X and an eye. If your Erik and my Erik truly are one and the same, the mark should still be visible."
Christine shuddered.
"During this time, Erik began to prove his genius. Be watching a magic trick just once, he was able to replicate it perfectly. He learned singing, music, acrobatics, ventriloquism, and horseback riding in the same ways. Soon, he was being exhibited not only as a freak but also as an entertainer. However, as he progressed in genius, the gypsies grew to fear him more. Soon, he was kept nearly all the time in a cage or chained to a wall. -I learned all this from an old woman who said that Erik had saved her daughter from choking."
"I can't believe that could go on without the law intervening!" Christine exclaimed, her voice tremulous with emotion.
"Yes, astonishing, isn't it? They say that they even muzzled him like a dog. How very, very interesting," Phelan said nonchalantly, "Anyway, after a while, he learned something that the gypsies did not expect, lock-picking. Well, that was that, and he escaped. Not that he got far. A Persian, whom had been hired to bring him back to his home country to entertain a princess, picked him up. Erik was kidnapped and sent to the palace of a shah. However, after a while as entertainer, Erik went on to prove himself in different fields. He began to show talent in architecture and invention. I do not have a full account of his adventures, but I do know that he constructed a new palace, filled with trap doors, a torture chamber, and many amazing war machines. He also is rumored to have invented a war machine that could make the country that owns it world dominator. He never built it, but he was witnessed drawing up plans for one. During this time, he also was used as a gladiator of sorts."
"Wait!" Raoul interrupted, "This is all a lie! Madame Giry said that Erik could not have been older than nine when she brought him to the opera."
"He wasn't," Phelan replied.
"But... you don't expect me to believe..."
Phelan arched his eyebrows.
"But, he would only have been, what? Six? Seven?" Raoul sputtered.
Phelan's eyebrows arched higher.
"A six or seven year old child does not design! This... this is impossible! And fighting as a gladiator? What nonsense!"
Phelan's eyebrows curbed into preternaturally high arches.
Raoul fell back on the bench; "This cannot be true! It's a fabrication."
"Whatever you say," Phelan sniffed, "I knew you'd never believe me."
"Go on," Christine whispered.
"Ah, at least someone is interested!" Phelan snorted, "Well, after creating the palace, the inventions, and the sheer glory of the Shah's kingdom, the Shah decided that Erik was too smart for his own good. So, he decried that Erik was to be burned alive for witchcraft."
"At seven or six years old?" Raoul said, still disbelieving.
"Yes, he needed some reason to kill the boy," Phelan stated flatly, "Anyway, Erik was too clever. Forming an unlikely alliance with the very man who had kidnapped him, Erik escaped, taking his best plans with him."
"Where did he go?" Christine asked.
"He ran off to the sea and stowed away on a pirate ship," Phelan replied.
"Oh, of course," Raoul said sarcastically.
"He did," Phelan said, "But he was caught. The pirates made him their personal slave. However, when a British commander patrolling the seas attacked them, Erik's lasso proved invaluable. Erik is only so-so with the blade, but he's brilliant with the lasso. He was also a wonderful shot. I was told that he saved the ship."
"Why? Christine asked.
"What?"
"Why did he want to help the pirates?"
"Oh, if they were caught everyone would have been hung, even him," Phelan answered, "Anyway, they stole a great load of gold from the ships and buried the treasure. When only a few miles from land, Erik dove off the side, swam ashore, and stole the treasure -every brass farthing!"
"At seven years old!" Raoul cried.
"Yes," Phelan answered, "Don't ask me how I found out all this, my own adventures are too long and dull to be worth repeating. Besides, I was not always, shall we say, legal."
"Please, continue," Christine urged, breathless.
"Yes, yes," Phelan took a drink of his wine, "Erik packed the treasure into bags and bought himself a mule. He used the animal to carry his riches and, after a year of traveling, he arrived in France. He buried his treasures and went in search of his mother, whom he still remembered due to a very good memory! -I had all these details told by various people, and I believe the story to be accurate." Phelan cleared his throat, "Well, he ran into bad luck on his search, because he was caught by the very same gypsies that had bought him when he was two. This time, they locked him up so well that he could not escape. They beat him also, kept him weak. However, he strangled his captor -in self defense- and ran off with your Giry woman. Later, he retrieved his riches and his secret plans and took them, I believe, under the opera. I was about to catch him there too, if it wasn't for this ridiculous Don Juan business. It appears he's been frightened off." Phelan sighed, "But I'll track him. Where there's smoke there's fire. Where there's magic there's Erik."
"You cannot expect anyone to believe that!" Raoul exclaimed.
"I don't," Phelan replied simply, "The truth is hard to believe."
Was that odd? I do hope you enjoyed this chapter! Tell me what you think! Smiles! (PS, but please remember that the key word in constructive criticism is 'constructive'.) Oh, and don't think that your ideas on who Phelan is are right or wrong. I do so love twists. Keep guessing, reading, and (mostly) reviewing! Lots of Laughs, Draver.
