Erik quickly glanced once more over his shoulder, but she was gone. His eyes glowed dangerously, and Philippe caught unawares, took a hasty step backward. He noticed the man talking to Christine from across the room and decided to join them. He wasn't sure who the man was, but one look at his peculiar eyes and he knew exactly.
"I think you may know my brother. He told me all about you, especially your penchant for choking people. So humor me, Reauchard, and tell me how the hell you got in here?"
Erik realized he was in trouble, and creating a diversion could prove costly. The man standing in front of him was tall and well built, with a no nonsense air and shrewd blue eyes. Help however, came from an unexpected and shocking source. A man walked quickly up to de Chagny before he had to answer him.
The man spoke softly to Philippe, but Erik heard him clearly. "Your brother was found unconscious in the coatroom. He's just starting to come round."
Erik was already moving away from the two men and melted into the large costumed crowd. "Christine," he whispered.
Philippe glanced around suddenly, noting that Reauchard had slipped away. He alerted the agents to his presence in the mansion, then put him momentarily from his mind, intent on seeing to his brother.
Erik walked quickly toward the foyer, his only thought now was finding Christine. His long strides had nearly got him there, when his phone chirped with a text message.
I HAVE SOMETHING OF YOURS. LIBRARY.
Erik looked at the sender's address- it was Moncharmin's. He quelled the rising panic. He needed now more than ever to keep his wits about him, for he was fairly certain that the assassin had Christine.
Philippe sat beside his brother on the couch in the living room. Raoul held a glass of water in one hand and his head in the other. He was still a little dizzy and his head ached. The doctor who had examined him was insisting on a trip to the hospital, but Raoul vehemently opposed it. Philippe argued with his brother to no avail- stubbornness tended to run in the family.
"I told you, Phil," he said again, "Christine came up to me and said she wanted to leave."
"She didn't tell you why?"
Raoul shrugged. "I asked her and she told me she had a headache and was ready to leave. I remember going to the coatroom for her wrap, and nothing after that until I woke up in here."
He got unsteadily to his feet and faced his brother. "Look, we have to find her. She wouldn't have just walked off and left me, Phil. Someone took her."
"We need to search the house and grounds first."
"She was dancing with him, wasn't she? That was Erik Reauchard. I saw them together."
His brother reached over and squeezed Raoul's arm. "Reauchard was standing right in front of me when you were found. He didn't take her, but he may know who did. They're looking for him now. Don't worry, we'll find her."
Raoul looked wide eyed at Philippe. "How did he get in here?"
Philippe stood up and walked toward the door, but said over his shoulder. "He's the Phantom. How the hell do you think he got in?"
It was the body lying in a pool of congealing blood that freaked her out. She felt nauseated and dismayed to have her hands and feet tied. She had been trussed up like this after coming to the library. The man hadn't been overly rough, but cautioned her against crying out. After being restrained and told to keep silent, the man disappeared from her sight. Think, Christine. This isn't a game. And he will be back. Erik, I need you!
She was sitting on one of the leather club chairs, unable to move very much and wondering what happened. She found Raoul and told him she was ready to leave. He was surprised and a little put out, but agreed to take her home. When they went to the coatroom, a man dressed in the costume of a Chinese emperor approached them. Before either of them could react, he knocked Raoul unconscious and to her great shock, pointed a gun at her.
In a low, hoarse voice, he told her to be absolutely quiet, and he directed her to the library. She now glanced around, noting the oak shelves full of books. Yes, this room she'd been in many times. It had always been her favorite at Chagny. She always loved the smell of books and the different and strange worlds awaiting discovery inside their leather bindings. She remembered rainy Saturdays as a child, when Raoul and she would sit at the long oak table and play board games, arguing noisily over the fact that he was cheating, until Mr. de Chagny or Philippe would chase them out.
She would avoid this room for the rest of her life.
She could smell the metallic odor of the man's blood from across the room. Her breath hitched in her chest and she started to shake. She was alone in the room with a dead body and she was clueless as to why. Little whimpers escaped her and panicking, she struggled frantically with her bonds, until she finally slumped in defeat, her wrists and ankles sore. She heard a slight noise and looked toward the heavy oak doors, frightened as to whom she would see. Was she to join the body on the floor? and trembled at the thought.
The door slowly opened and Erik stood in the doorway, looking quickly around until he spotted her in the chair by the fireplace.
"Erik!" She wished hard for him to find her- and he did.
He looked momentarily at the body on the floor, recognizing Moncharmin, then strode to her side in seconds, highly relieved at finding her alive and well.
"Someone will die for this," he vowed. He knelt down in front of Christine, and prepared to free her from her bonds, all the while running his eyes over her looking for any injuries. "Did you see who took you?"
She shook her head. "No, he's in costume. A...A chinese c-costume."
He worked rapidly at the plastic tie clipped around her wrists. Christine was overjoyed to see him, still dumbfounded as to what was going on, and worried about the man who brought her here. Her eyes welled with tears, but she held herself together, realizing how precarious the situation was.
"Be careful, there's..." she began in a scared whisper.
"Hello, Erik. I knew you would come."
He stiffened, but refused to give in to the nasty jolt of surprise he felt on hearing that voice. "Daroga."
The Persian observed his old comrade and watched his face for any sign of surprise. There was none, only a wariness in his eyes of the situation he found himself in, and a way to get out of it. He knew Erik well, and he was aware of the rage he was no doubt feeling at this moment- rage at Nadir's betrayal and fear for Christine. He kept his distance from the masked man and relied on the Baretta pistol pointed at his old friend to keep him under control.
Nadir finally removed his mask, and when he stepped forward, Christine drew in a sharp breath, clearly shocked. Erik merely regarded him silently- thoughtfully. Kahn was aware that the Phantom could strike out quicker than a snake. Taking him to Behzadi would not be easy. That is where Ms. Daae became important to him. Keeping Erik at bay with the threat of harm to Christine.
He was near the entrance hall earlier this evening, when Christine and a young man entered a room across the wide entry from him. He decided in that moment, that now would be an opportune time to take the Daae woman. He was relieved to find the couple alone, and swiftly he subdued the man, while keeping his eye on the young woman. She was badly frightened, but remained fairly calm. Nadir felt self-disgust for what he was doing, but knew his options were nearly zero.
He watched his former friend silently for a moment. He knew the masked man was positively vibrating with rage.
Erik caressed her cheek, then stood up. "Why?" His eyes were fiery and glowing, promising the Persian a painful death if he dropped his guard one iota.
Nadir had the grace to look ashamed, but there was fear and worry there as well."They have my son, Erik. They have Reza."
Erik couldn't hide his surprise this time. "Who?"
The Persian began speaking in Farsi, unburdening himself for the first time since his son had been abducted. "Do you remember Amjad Behzadi?"
Erik tensed beside Christine. Feeling his distress, she raised her hands and grasped one of his tightly. He let out a breath he wasn't aware of holding, and squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"Behzadi owned a chain of hotels in the Mid East, but that wasn't his only business. He made himself rich off of the illegal drug trade."
Christine looked up at him, hearing something in his tone she never heard before. "Erik?" she said with a tremble in her voice.
He wouldn't look at her, but continued speaking, seemingly devoid of emotion. He switched back to English as some evil sprite in his head insisted he be truthful with her finally.
"He was a drug baron in the Tehran underworld. My employer, for want of a better word, wanted him liquidated. I set up the hit," he looked at the Persian, "and proceeded to remove him permanently."
He paused and stared at something only he could see- something within his own tortured mind. "It was a car bomb, rigged and timed by me. Set to go off when he exited the Tehran Theatre of the Performing Arts and entered his car. But he was not alone that night. His young wife was with him. His pregnant wife," he whispered.
She felt as if she couldn't breathe. She knew Erik had a past very different from hers, and Raoul told her he was a killer, but in the back of her mind she doubted the truth of it all. She put her hands back in her lap and looked at Nadir.
"What happened to them?" she asked softly.
"They were all killed in the explosion. Behzadi's wife was five months pregnant."
Nadir chanced a look at Christine then. "Behzadi's grown son from his first marriage is the one who took Reza." He looked unflinchingly back at Erik. "And I will do whatever it takes to get him back."
The masked man glared at his one-time friend. "Why didn't you tell me? We could have found him and brought him out safe."
"Do you truly believe that? I couldn't take the risk. They would have killed him. Behzadi thought that the best way to get to you was to use me. I know you better than most and I was aware of your movements for much of the time."
The Persian looked sadly at his friend of many years. "I was given very little choice in the matter, Erik. Reza is all I have."
The Persian waved the gun at him. "Behzadi the younger requires your presence not more than a few miles from here. He has a very large and very ostentatious home just outside Gettysburg. That is why you were lured here. For what it's worth, I am sorry," he said quietly.
The Phantom looked at Nadir shrewdly, and said with bitterness, "It was never France's president, was it my old friend?"
Nadir flinched at the sneer he heard and shook his head. "No, and I'm fairly certain if you hadn't been preoccupied," he glanced toward Christine, "you would have discovered that for yourself. Ms. Daae's entrance into your life was very propitious- for me."
Erik kept tight control of the fury that was trying to bubble to the surface. It served no useful purpose- for now. Not until he could wrap his hands around the Persian's throat.
"Philippe de Chagny. Another lie of yours?"
Nadir shook his head. "Everything was true concerning de Chagny, except for his bid for the title to be returned. I merely wanted you to look elsewhere for a while. You kept insisting on an identity for the killer. Something I couldn't supply."
He looked over at the body on the floor. "I gave bogus information to Andre there, and he fed it more than willingly to you. For a price. I knew you would be curious as to why he had Buquet follow you. And once you found out Moncharmin was in Gettysburg, you suspected that he was involved in some way." He shook his head and sighed. "Andre was the dupe and merely the man in the middle. He wasn't even aware that you were using him the same as I."
He gestured with the pistol again. "And now, we had better be on our way, wouldn't you agree?"
"The president was not attending tonight. It was only a ruse for the benefit of the hitman. A killer that never existed." His wish to exterminate his former comrade shone from his eyes. "Bravo, Kahn, bravo."
Nadir met his murderous look and inwardly shivered. "You were always the quarry, Erik. The hits on the French government were staged by a little known terrorist group friendly with Behzadi. They have worked inside France for years-very helpful to him in the long run, for he has no love for the French either. I am afraid though, his hatred for you is much greater; he wants you dead, but unfortunately he wants you to suffer first."
He jerked his head at Moncharmin's body. "He was first to go. He knew entirely too much and was totally untrustworthy. He was quite shocked just before I killed him." He scratched his jaw thoughtfully. "Untrustworthy, but useful in keeping you guessing and remaining in this area until you could be...taken."
Erik tsked and shook his head at the Persian. "He was well broken in at the Garnier. A known quantity, and now because of you, that will all change."
Nadir made a face. "He took money from you and he took money from me. Much too greedy for his own good, I would say."
"Why did Behzadi want revenge five years later?"
The Persian looked at his former friend sadly. "You know very well that people such as Behzadi have all the patience in the world. Five years means nothing to him. His vendetta has been alive and well, just waiting for the right opportunity. The arrival of the president to this town was just that."
Nadir flourished the gun at Erik. "First, I will require your weapons, if you please, and that includes the gaudy looking sword as well."
Erik slowly removed the Sig Sauer 9mm pistol from the holster beneath his jacket and unbuckled the scabbard from his waist, handing them over to the Persian.
Nadir shook his head slightly at his old friend. "The lasso also, Erik."
He removed the Punjab from his jacket sleeve and handed it to him.
"Free her legs and we will leave this place through the tunnel."
"Let her go, daroga. She has done nothing." Erik's eyes bored into Nadir's. "I swear that I will accompany you peacefully. I am fond of Reza also."
The Persian smiled faintly. "What have you always told me? Oaths are only meant to catch gulls with? No, this is the only way. Again, I am sorry for it. We've gone through much for it to end this way."
Nadir looked at Christine. "I would like nothing better than to let you go, but unfortunately I cannot do that."
Erik knelt in front of her and deftly removed the bonds on her feet, rubbing them gently to restore circulation.
When he started on her hands, the Persian stopped him. "Only her legs. I don't want her to have too much freedom."
Nadir cringed at the look the masked man gave him. "You shall be barking in Hell before this night is over," Erik hissed.
He returned to massaging Christine's ankles, when she stopped him. "I...I can manage, Erik."
Her voice was distant and she refused to look at him. He looked up at her, feeling her disgust, and despising himself for it.
"I told you Christine, that I am not a good man. Do you believe me now, my dear?"
She heard the pain and despair in his voice, for she felt very much the same as he. She pushed his hand away when he moved to help her stand. Nevertheless, he grasped her elbow and pulled her to her feet. The Persian gestured to the door under the stairs, and Erik reluctantly led the way. Followed by Christine and Nadir, the three stepped into the tunnel.
Christine's eyes rested on Erik's tall form in front of her, feeling very torn between the man she knew and the killer he actually was.