Masque de la Terreur: a Gabriel Knight Mystery
Chapter 2, Part I
by Travis Lester, published on February 24, 2001
Gabriel glanced at the blinking red digits of the clock resting on his bed-side table.
2:31 AM
Gabriel rubbed his eyes tiringly. Being a hot night, he lay in bed, shirtless and bootless with SIDney in his lap and his trusty pencil and notepad by his side. He’d already made up a short list of things to fill Grace in on. It was all mainly B.S. over the Opera house foundation, its history shortly before and after 1881 and the like. Gabriel had other plans than giving Grace the info needed to put herself in harm’s way.
Gabriel came to the very bottom of the search screen and found the last link. It was a newsgroup link:
Movie News - Police investigation to halt filming at Paris opera house ... Phantom production enters temporary hiatus.
Gabriel clicked the link with interest. He entered a small movie site concerning gossip, info and the like.
He found a list:
*“MEL SIGNS ON FOR MAD MAX 4?”
*“EASTWOOD STRAPS ON THE MAGNUM FOR ANOTHER CASE?”
*“THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA MENACE?”
Gabriel clicked the appropriate link and waited as he watched the “LOADING...” at the bottom of the screen.
He gave SIDney a good smack. “Damn lag.”
SIDney quickly loaded the page, as if in response to his abuse. Gabriel ignored the banners and submenu along the side and read the text before him:
Just when esteemed screenwriter Peter Brewster’s directorial debut seemed as though it couldn't be under anymore strain--the crew has been literally quarantined within the Paris Opera House by the Parisian police officials. The production’s temporary hiatus seems to be lasting a little longer than expected.
A Phantom purist picket-line just outside the front door of the Paris Opera House, letters of threat and complaint against the ‘newest rape’ of Leroux’s tragic ghost, and now, 35 year old Hugh Bergman, secondary cameraman, falls to his death from one of the House’s many catwalks.
According to some, there seems to be question surrounding the mishap that a fellow colleague hit the good Inspector Pierre Gervon of the French Surete.
“Bergman’s accident was purely that: an accident.” said Inspector Gervon assured the press at the conference yesterday evening. “We are investigating the matter, but at the moment we have nothing to say about any such ‘foul play’ nonsense.”
Foul play? Sounds like one of Brewster’s earlier screenwriting, works.
The exact details of the mishap are still unknown--especially with the French police’s notable job of keeping the crew contained within the Opera house.
The story does not end there, however. As I was leaving the press conference in the foyer of the Opera house, myself and fellow press-men were hounded by a fury of the ‘Phantom Phans.’
Signs bobbed up and down, some reading “GO HOME HOLLYWOOD!,” “LEAVE ERIK ALONE!” The mob spat and cursed at us as we descended the steps.
Not being entirely satisfied with the story I received from the Surete inspector, I decided to strike up an interview with the ringleader of the rabble.
Cynthia Phillips, clad in tight jeans, a patchy biker’s jacket and gothic-style make-up job, approached me with a much more reserved tone than her associates.
She asked me the Inspector’s explanation of Bergman’s fatal accident. I related only briefly his statement, and she laughed.
“And you bought that?” she asked me as if I were crazy. I asked her who she thought it was. “Well, isn't it obvious? Did you even read Leroux’s work? No, of course not. Because all you Hollywood big-wigs give a toss about is the money. The fame. You don’t care about Erik, and you never have.”
I asked her if she would care to expand on her theory.
“For some reason Hollywood seems to think that Erik’s tale is that of a low-grade melodrama, and that’s a travesty much lamented by myself and my Phantom Phans. I think it’s safe to say that whatever happened to that cameraman, he deserved it for taking part in such a heinous crime against Erik.”
I asked Cynthia if she believed in the Phantom, and if she believed perhaps he was haunting the production.
Her response was more calm than I had expected: “Of course. Every Phantom Phan knows Leroux’s tale was based on fact. If the bigshots at Hollywood thought we were a pain, they haven’t seen nothing yet as far as Erik is concerned!”
How’s that for low-grade melodrama?
~Jeremy Finch direct from Paris, France
Gabriel scratched his naked chest with a swelling interest.
What the hell is goin’ on there?
He suddenly began to worry about Grace. He didn't know what the hell she was doing or where she was doing it exactly, but he hoped she was watching her ass.
Gabriel sighed, looking down at his notepad. All the meaningless ‘filler’ information seemed like it would be good enough for her. She always did buy into the historical stuff that gave Gabriel the yawns.
Somehow he had to get there. Get to her and make sure she was not over her head.
Then what? What’s the plan then, huh? You just gonna turn around and go back home?
Gabriel leaned his head back, resting it against the head-board. He wasn't sure what he was gonna do. He figured that he would jump that hurdle when he came to it.
The hurdle of the moment lied along a separate path, though:
Getting information from Grace without her knowing.
Gabriel remembered what Gerde had told him before they hung up.
"She won't know its you. I decided not to tell her, so that when you sent the email with the information you'd not have to say anything you weren't ready to. I thought it only in her best interest, Gabriel."
At the time, Gabriel couldn't told Gerde where to shove her 'thought on her best interest.'
Now, though, he could've kissed her for it...
So she won't know it's me, huh? Gabriel thought with a slyness.
And with that slyness, Gabriel clicked on the E-MAIL icon at the top of SIDney's screen. As it loaded, he picked up his notepad and waited for the E-MAIL screen to pop up...
Last update: October 25, 2007
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