“Most amusing,” said Eddie. “But every Opera House has a phantom. Everyone knows that. It’s a tradition, or an old charter, or something. And the phantom always lives in the bowels of the Opera House and rows a boat through the sewers.”
“And he does this for a living?”
“He’s a phantom,” said Eddie. “Who can say?”
“I don’t like the sound of him very much.”
“We really are wasting time,” said Eddie. “Let’s find some conveniently placed sewer-hole cover to lift and get down to business.”
“Aren’t sewers filled with business?” Jack asked.
“Yes, and Stage Door Johnnies, and crocodiles, too, I’m told.”
“Perhaps if I bribed that doorman …”
A sewer-hole cover was conveniently located not many paces before them. Jack looked up and down the alleyway and then took to tugging, then struggling, then finally prying open.
“Here it comes,” he panted. And here the cover came, up and over and onto Jack’s foot.
“Ow!” howled Jack. And his “Ow” echoed down along the sewer beneath them.
“Keep it quiet,” said Eddie. “And get down the hole.”
“I’ll get business on my trenchcoat,” said Jack.
“Time is wasting,” said Eddie. “You brought us here to save lives, didn’t you?”
Jack lowered himself into the unpleasantness beneath, then called up to Eddie and Eddie jumped down. Jack caught Eddie, reached up and pulled the sewer-hole cover back into place.
Eddie and Jack stood in darkness. And in smelliness also.
“Whoa!” went Jack, holding his nose and fanning his face. “This is revolting – I’m up to my ankles in business here.”
“I’m nearly up to my bottom,” said Eddie. “But it’s quite a pleasant smell. Once you’ve acclimatised yourself.”
“So, which way do we go?”
“That way,” said Eddie.
Jack sighed deeply. “I can’t see a thing in the darkness. Which way do you mean?”
“That way,” said Eddie.
“Oh, that way,” said Jack. “I see.”
But of course he did not. But he did follow Eddie by holding his ear. And Eddie strode forward with confidence, because, as he informed Jack, bears are noted for their remarkable night vision and natural sense of direction.
Presently they reached the inevitable dead end.
“Brilliant,” said Jack.
“Up the ladder,” said Eddie. “Put your hands out – there’s rungs in the wall.”
Jack put his hands out. “Ah,” he said.
There were strugglings and pantings and it’s hard to climb a ladder in the darkness with one hand holding your nose. But at length the two now somewhat ill-smelling detectives emerged into a kind of underground chamber, bricked all around with big stone slabs and lit by flaming torchères in wall sconces. There was an old organ in one corner of this chamber and at this sat an old organist, playing an old organ tune.
Jack dusted down his trenchcoat, but demurred at wringing out its sodden hem. Eddie squeezed at his soggy legs and dripped fetid water.
The old organist suddenly burst into song.
The gulls that circle overhead
Cry out for crumbs and bits of bread.
The gulls that circle underfoot
Are very rarely seen.
“What a wonderful song,” said Jack.
“I hated it,” said Eddie.
“Who said that?” asked the old organist. And he turned. And Jack and Eddie beheld … the Phantom of the Opera.
“Oh my goodness,” said Jack, and he fell back in considerable disarray.
The Phantom wasn’t the prettiest sight, but he wasn’t the ugliest, either. He was somewhere in between, but at a certain level in between that made him, or perhaps it was a her, or indeed an it, utterly, utterly …
“What is the word I’m looking for?” Jack did whispering to Eddie.
“Search me,” said the bear in reply. “Average, bland, standard, run-of-the-mill, insipid, dull, middling, trite, mediocre, commonplace.”
“That’s enough,” said Jack. “But that’s what it is.”
“Aaagh,” went the Phantom. “Do not gaze upon my ubiquitousness.”
“And that’s a good’n,” said Eddie. “Possibly the best’n. He’s as ubiquitous as.”
“What are you doing here?” The Phantom raised his voice, but it didn’t really seem to raise. It droned somewhat. Which was odd as his, or her, or its, singing had been sweet. Although Eddie had hated it. “Have you come to mock me for my generality? Come to laugh at the cursed one? The one too dull and everyday to be noticed?”
“We noticed you at once,” said Jack. “And I really loved the singing.”
“You did?” said the Phantom. “You really did?”
“It was a beautiful song. But we’re lost. We need to get up into the Opera House. Would you help us, please?”
“I rarely venture above,” said the Phantom. “My appearance is too lacking in extremity even to draw notice. Folk don’t even know I’m there.”
“Who said that?” said Eddie.
“Stop it,” said Jack. “It’s not funny.”
“Oh, it is,” said the Phantom, wringing hands of abundant nonentity. “They all laugh. It’s all the Toymaker’s fault.”
“The kindly, lovable white-haired old Toymaker?” said Jack.
“Unless you know of another.”
Jack shook his head.
“He wanted to create a toy that would be loved by all, that would appeal to all. So he took a bit of this and a bit of that and a bit of the other and he blended them all together. But did he create something that would universally be loved by all?”
Jack shook his head slowly. “No?” he suggested.
“Correct,” said the Phantom. “I am everything. And by being everything, I am nothing. I am a Phantom.”
“That’s very sad,” said Jack.
“But we are in a hurry,” said Eddie.
“That is true,” said Jack. “Do you think, Mister Phantom, that you could be kind enough to show us the way up into the Opera House. It is Mister Phantom, is it, or is it Miss or Missis?”
“If only I knew,” said the Phantom. “Then, if I did know, I’d know whether some of the urges I feel at times are natural rather than perverse.”
“Difficult,” said Jack.
“Time,” said Eddie, pawing at an imaginary wristwatch.
“That bear’s no master of mime,” said the Phantom. “And what is he, anyway?”
“I’m an Anders Imperial,” said Eddie. “Cinnamon plush –”
“That’s a beer-bottle top in your ear hole.”
“That’s my special button tag.”
“Oh no it’s not.”
“Oh yes it is.”
“Time,” said Jack, and he pointed to his wristwatch.
“I’ll take you up,” said the Phantom, “but I’ll caution you to take care.”
“Oh yes?” said Jack.
“Something is amongst us,” said the Phantom. “I can sense it. Something that pretends to be us, but is not. Something other. Something apart. Something from Beyond The Second Big O.”
“We are aware of this,” said Jack, “and it is our job to stop it.”
“Really?” the Phantom voiced surprise, but in a manner too dull and too monotone to express the emotion. “Really, I am surprised. But you must beware. This something, and there is more than one of these somethings – there are two, in fact – these somethings will destroy us all, they will suck the very life force out of Toy City, leaving it an empty shell.”
Jack looked at Eddie.
And Eddie looked at Jack.