AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for the delay.
Beregond's Girl: Wow, that's confusing. Say hello to Arien from me.(lol) (Erik: Hey there, other Erik. I don't know if I should be pleased or irritated.)
Pertie: Minor again, but there is more to come… (Erik: Shut up, kid, we said no spoilers!)
Bea: Don't indulge him. (Erik: Do indulge me!)

-.-.-

I. Track down this Murderer

At the long last, Michel Delannay found that he was content. This time, he had what he wanted, and he had everything he could possibly have expected.

Opposite him, Bracy was blowing smoke rings towards the ceiling, patiently at Delannay's disposal. Though grudgingly, Delannay had grown to like the calm, silent officer. Bracy did what was asked of him, and he did it readily. And he was completely emotionless about it. A very useful man, that Bracy.

Across the room, Charles LaCroix lounged in an armchair and still somehow managed to convey utter alertness. His pale features formed a permanent frown, with two sharp lines above the bridge of his nose giving him a grim exterior. His eyes, black in the shadows, rested on the new stack of files on Delannay's desk, never flickering away. Like a bird of prey ready to dive. LaCroix was another useful man, yet he was dangerous. He was… hungry. Hungry for everything. Power, domination, blood, honour, glory, knowledge, victory… he wanted it all, and he drank it up to the last drop and still desired more. LaCroix was not to be sated.

But Delannay would give him something that would keep his ever-greedy mind busy for some time. For now he knew what he wanted to know, this matter could be out of Bracy's hands and come into LaCroix's, if Delannay chose so.

So this was the story of the Opera Ghost, then. A scarred madman who was hiding from the world, a coward but a fiend, destroying and murdering for the love of a woman. The mere idea made Delannay want to laugh out loud. How very operatic! Yet there were some facts that should not be ignored, some facts he did not truly understand, nor did he believe them, to be honest. But still… they were part of the police reports, and a large part, to be exact. Scientists had written and speculated on them, described and analyzed. They could not be true, those ghost stories, but they were practically proven so.

Still, there was the possibility that this was some kind of conspiracy to frighten him… yet so large a conspiracy? And why had Chateaupers kept those things from him if it were so? A man like LaCroix would surely have said that it was part of the plan, but his experience had taught Delannay that things were never as complicated as enemies might want you to assume.

So whom to believe? What to believe?

Once again he drew the pile of papers towards him, picking up the one on top. If he believed just part of what it said here, however unlikely it was, it might just answer a question from earlier on. Studying the description given, he memorized it, then closed his eyes for a moment and conjured up the image he held in his head. Well… a few adjustments, perhaps… and then there was the question of this mask, of course, and, more importantly, what was hidden beneath…

Opening his eyes again, he came to a decision. "Bracy, you're a tall man. Will you do me the favour and stand by the door for a moment?"

If the police officer was surprised, he did not show it. He simply dropped his cigarette butt into the ashtray, got up and did as he had been told.

"No, a little more to the right. Yes, like that. Exactly." Delannay could practically feel LaCroix's scrutinizing gaze on him, but he ignored it. Yes, this might be about right. "What does the floor feel like, beneath your feet?"

Again Bracy did not show the slightest sign of astonishment. "Like any other part of the floor in this office, Councillor, if this is what you are implying."

Ah. Clever man. "Now reach out. Let us see which parts of the wall you could reach from this point. No, with your back to the wall. Any special ornament, any point that catches your attention? Close to you, I should think, but I can't say with certainty."

For some time there was silence, interrupted only by the soft noises Bracy's large, deft hands made as they brushed against the walls. Delannay watched him closely, and he was sure that LaCroix did the same. And so did that white and brown weasel thing, peeking out of Bracy's discarded coat thrown over his chair. Ridiculous animal, but a good sign, a sign that this born marquis was very far from a nobleman as society understood the term. "Nothing as yet, Councillor," Bracy said at last. "But I will order an inquiry, if you wish."

Indeed the man seemed to understand words that were not spoken. Truly a very useful acquaintance. "Do it," he ordered curtly. "Tomorrow afternoon. Until then, I should like to have current plans of the sub-basements."

"I doubt there are," Bracy replied, returning to his seat and scooping up his furry little pet before he sat down again. "I think our suspect in question has made a few changes to the structure. The normal access to the lowest level, via the staircase, is blocked completely. We are certain that there is a way down there, or, to be exact, more than one, which are very easily accessible, but the inquiry of a few months back did not delve into this matter. To be exact, it doesn't comment on the problem at all."

"Chateaupers!" Delannay snarled. "Always Chateaupers!"

"I don't think so, Councillor," Bracy said evenly. "I've rather come to suspect that when our men went down there back then… the structure looked a little different."

For a moment Delannay just fixed him with his gaze, convinced that LaCroix was doing the same. Then he commanded, "Elaborate."

"Councillor, I think they must have entered the lowest cellar the normal way, or otherwise they would have commented on it."

"Yes, very well," Delannay interrupted impatiently, "but surely you don't mean to tell me that this criminal built up a smooth stone wall all by himself in just a matter of a few months?"

Bracy shrugged. "I couldn't say, Councillor, I'm afraid. I'm not sure how it came to be there. The fact is, it is there."

"If you will permit me." LaCroix's voice was deep and gentle, almost silky, yet still there rested a threat in it that could not be ignored, like the shape of a dagger visible through a layer of the finest silk. "I believe the nature of this wall is not, in fact, an ordinary wall's nature."

Delannay turned his head towards him. There he sat, in his common black suit which made his complexion even paler, those black eyes on Delannay, warily and without a blink. LaCroix could make a man uneasy by just turning that unblinking gaze on him. "Explain yourself," Delannay demanded curtly. He tried not to speak to LaCroix in any other way than that, for somehow with LaCroix the urge to keep a distance was stronger even than with those two stuffed morons, André and Firmin.

There was a pause, more for effect than for the need to assemble the words before speaking. "This wall is a door."

Resisting the temptation to try to exchange a glance with Bracy, Delannay forced himself to look LaCroix straight in the eyes. "A door, you say? Do you mean that this wall can be… opened?" It did not sound very plausible, yet somehow… it sounded very much like the thing this man who called himself Phantom would do. The same criminal had designed the trapdoors mentioned in the reports, after all, and it was a miracle Delannay had not lost any men to them yet.

"It can be moved aside." As always, LaCroix did not openly criticize Delannay, but still it was there, like a prick with a needle, very subtle, but still clear enough. Yes, moved aside, not opened. Not that it made a difference, but still… the needle had found its target once again, and Delannay's hands clenched into fists beneath his desk. One of these days he would throw that silver inkstand at LaCroix. If he did not restrain himself, he really would.

"Councillor, do you wish me to investigate?" Bracy put in, and Delannay made a mental note of it. So Bracy would not leave this to LaCroix. Yes, of course he would not. Of course he would make sure this stayed in his own hands. Who wouldn't? But playing those two against each other might be of some use later on, perhaps…

"After you're done with the question of the door," he instructed after a moment's consideration. Yes, for now matters should remain in Bracy's hands, he decided. For now. "Say, have you ever met this Opera Ghost face to face?"

Already on his feet again, Bracy stopped in his track. "No, Councillor. Never. But I will make sure I will, trust me to that."

As the door closed behind him, Delannay almost smiled. I'm on you now, my sneaky friend…

And if Bracy fails… there is still a more unpleasant man to come after you…