“What?” went Jack. “What?”
“Do you ever read the newspapers?” the doorman asked Jack.
“Actually, I do,” Jack said.
“Well, not too long ago,” said the doorman, “Toy City was plagued by a mad mayor. A hideous freak, he was, with glass dolly eyes and these really creepy hands –”
Eddie flinched and took shelter at the rear of Jack.
“Well, this abhorrence put into place certain edicts,” the doorman continued. “He appeared to have it in for his betters, you see. Inferiority complex, inverted snobbery or have it as you will. I’ve been reading all about that kind of business in this self-help manual I bought. Anyway, this mad mayor did away with all the privileges of the monarchy. Edict Five, as I recall.”
Jack said, “What?” and Jack looked down at Eddie. Around and behind himself and then again down at Eddie.
Eddie made a foolish face and shrugged.
“Ah,” said Jack. “Ah, but –”
“Ah, but what?” asked the doorman.
“Ah, but the mad mayor was kicked out. Tarred and feathered.”
“Yes.” The doorman smiled. “But not all his edicts were rescinded. Actually, the management of the Opera House quite liked Edict Five – they were fed up with the monarchy always poncing free tickets for all the best bashes.”
“Oh,” said Jack.
“So on your way,” said the doorman. “Scruffy trenchcoated oik that you are.”
“You will answer for this,” said Jack.
“Word has it,” said the doorman, “that The End Times are upon us, and that all of us will answer soon for something or other.”
“You must let us in,” Jack protested.
“Us?” said the doorman. “I wouldn’t have let you take that tatty bear in with you anyway.”
“But,” said Jack, “we are detectives. We’re here on a case. We have the authority of Chief Inspector Wellington Bellis.”
“Yes, of course you have, sir. Now move along please, we have posh people trying to get in.”
“Let us in!” Jack demanded.
“Please don’t make me use force,” said the doorman. “As enjoyable as it would be for me, I regret to say that it would probably leave you with permanent damage.”
Jack made fists and squared up to the doorman.
The doorman made bigger fists and squared himself down to Jack.
“You haven’t heard the last of this,” said Jack.
“I can assure you that I have,” said the doorman, “because I am no longer listening.”
Posh folk pushed past Jack on either side. Jack retreated down the marble steps with Eddie following on.
“You and your bloody edicts,” Jack said to Eddie.
“Actually, I feel rather justified in imposing that one,” said the bear. “Can we go home now, please?”
“We have to prevent a crime.”
“I’m still not really convinced.”
“Eddie, evil will be done here and only we can stop it.”
“You could call your associate, Chief Inspector Wellington Bellis.”
“He might not have faith in my source,” said Jack.
“About your source –” said Eddie.
“Damn,” said Jack, and he sat down on the kerb. “Damn, damn, damn.”
Eddie sat down beside his friend. “Tell me about this source of yours,” he said.
“Can’t,” said Jack. “I am sworn to secrecy.”
“What?” said Eddie. “Why? We don’t have secrets. We’re partners.”
“Look, Eddie, I don’t want to go into it now. We have to get inside the Opera House and that’s all there is to it.”
“Well,” said Eddie, “if your mind is made up, and that is all there is to it, then you’d best follow me.”
“Where to?”
“Just follow.”
Jack rose and followed Eddie. The little bear led him around the corner and down an alleyway and to the stage door. Several Stage Door Johnnies surrounded the stage door.
“Disgusting,” said Eddie, stepping over one of them. “You’re supposed to flush those things away.”
Jack made an appalled face. “Was that a condom gag?” he asked.
“Take it as you will,” said Eddie. “Knock at the door, please, Jack.”
Jack knocked at the door.
The backstage doorman opened it. He was a clockwork fellow, somewhat rusty and worn.
“Ralph,” said Eddie.
“Eddie?” said Ralph.
“Ralph, how good to see you after all this time.”
“All this time?” said Ralph, and he scratched at his tin-plate topknot, raising sparks.
“We’re here on a bit of business,” said Eddie. “Would you mind letting us in?”
“Again?” said Ralph.
“Why is he saying ‘again’?” Jack asked Eddie.
“I don’t know,” said Eddie. “Why are you saying ‘again’, Ralph?”
“Because I’ve already let you in once,” said Ralph. “And your comedy sidekick there.”
“What?” said Jack.
And, “What?” said Eddie. And, “Oh dear,” said Eddie. “This is bad.”
“How did you get past me?” Ralph asked. “I never saw you go out again.”
“We didn’t,” said Eddie. “That wasn’t us.”
“Oh yes it was,” said Ralph. “I’d recognise those crummy mismatched button eyes, and the tatty old raincoat and the –”
“Have to stop you there, Ralph,” said Eddie. “Those were two impersonators. Two very bad and evil beings.”
“Uncanny,” said Ralph.
“What?” said Eddie once more.
“That’s what you said to me earlier, when I let you in. You said that two impersonators might turn up and try to get in, but that I was to refuse them entry because they were very bad and evil beings.”
And Ralph slammed the stage door shut upon Jack and Eddie.
And Jack and Eddie stood in the alley.
And Jack said, “Damn,” once more.
Eddie Bear looked up at Jack. “It seems,” said Eddie, “that I was wrong and you were right. We have to get into the Opera House.”
“We should phone Bellis,” said Jack, “get him to bring a task force, the Army, whatever is necessary. Everything. What do you think?”
Eddie gave his head a couple of thumpings. “I think not,” said he. “And before you ask why, I’ll tell you for why. These murderers, or soul stealers, or whatever Hellish things from beyond or above they are, are disguised as us. And it does not require the gift of precognition to predict the inevitable consequences, as in when a bunch of overexcited police snipers gun us down by mistake.”
“Ah,” said Jack. “You think that might happen?”
“I’d give you a very good odds on it,” said Eddie. “We will have to deal with this on our own. Just you and me.”
“So how do we get in there?”
“Well,” said Eddie, and he cupped what he had of a chin in a paw, “it will have to be the sewers.”
Jack made a sour face and Jack said, “The sewers?”
“It’s an Opera House,” said Eddie. “Ergo it has a phantom.”
“A what?” said Jack.
“A phantom,” said Eddie.
“No,” said Jack. “I mean, what’s an ergo?”
“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.