That’s a take!

Well done, everyone.

13

“Oh my goodness,” croaked Eddie. “Are we still alive?”

“You are alive,” said the Phantom, lowering Eddie to the floor of the lower gantry, “and so is your companion.”

“That is not what I mean.” And Eddie craned what neck he had to peer down at the shattered chandelier. It had probably been a most expensive chandelier, but there wasn’t much of it left now. “I mean the other we, the other me and Jack – are they still alive?”

Jack took to peering, clinging to the gantry handrail, his knees now wobbling somewhat.

“Can you see?” Eddie asked. “Did we smash those blighters good?”

“I can’t see,” said Jack. “But I can see … Oh dear, Eddie.”

“What is it? What can you see?”

“The orchestra,” said Jack, and he said it in a strangled whisper. “It’s the orchestra, Eddie. All the musicians are dead.”

Eddie buried his face in his paws. “This is as bad as,” he said.

“Oh Eddie, I’m so sorry.” Jack leaned down and patted his friend. “I’m so very sorry. It’s all my fault.”

“All your fault?” Eddie looked up with a bitter face. “It’s not your fault, Jack. You did everything you could. You were as brave as. It was my fault. The fault of these stupid paws. I couldn’t turn the spanner. If only I’d had my hands –”

“You did your best,” said the Phantom in his or her (or its) toneless manner. “And you couldn’t be expected to have hands. Hands, indeed? You’d look like that creepy mayor. In fact –”

“It was my fault.” Eddie regarded with bitterness his fingerless, thumbless paws. “Everything has been my fault.”

“Stop it, Eddie,” said Jack. “You did what you could. I should have leapt over to the chandelier in the first place.”

“You were both very brave,” said the Phantom, “and you had no care for your own safety.”

“And you saved us both,” said Jack. “We owe you our lives.”

“Oh, it was nothing. The least I could do.”

“I won’t forget this,” Jack said.

Eddie sighed, and he so hated sighing. “We’d better go down,” he said. “There is nothing we can do for the orchestra, but if the other me and the other you are still alive down there, I’m going to see to it that they don’t remain so much longer.”

“Steady, Eddie,” said Jack.

“I’ll lead the way,” said the Phantom. “It’s a bit complicated, but it does involve another secret panel.”

“We could just go down these steps,” said Jack.

“What, and miss the secret panel?”

“It’s probably for the best,” Jack said.

And Jack led the way down the staircase to backstage. Much of the backdrop had collapsed beneath the fallen chandelier and Jack was able to look out across the empty stage, over the silent orchestra pit and the deserted auditorium.

Eddie Bear raised an ear. “I hear police sirens in the distance,” he said.

“Let’s make haste, then,” said Jack, and he began to sift amongst the ruination that had been the chandelier.

“Anything?” Eddie asked.

“You might help,” said Jack.

“No, I might not,” said Eddie. “That’s a lot of broken glass – I could cut myself and lose my stuffing.”

Jack did further siftings and added some rootlings to these. “There’s something,” he said.

“Bodies?” Eddie asked. Hopefully.

“No,” said Jack. “Their machine is here, all broken in pieces. Which is something, though not very much.”

“But no bodies?”

“No,” said Jack. “Ah, I see.”

“You see bodies?”

“I don’t see bodies. But what I do see is the trap door.”

“And it’s open, I suppose.” Eddie made low growling sounds. “They’ve escaped.”

Jack was dragging ruined chandelier to this side and the other. “Then we’ll go after them,” he said.

“What? When they seem capable of vanishing away in a puff of smoke? Like my one did at Old King Cole’s?”

“I don’t think they’ll find it quite so easy this time,” Jack said. “Their machine is busted, after all.”

“Their killing machine? What has that to do with them making their escape?”

“It has to double as a means of transportation, surely?”

“That doesn’t really follow,” said the Phantom, who hadn’t said much lately and had done absolutely no rootling or sifting either. “You are making a supposition there that is not based on any empirical evidence.”

“Please keep out of this,” said Jack. “You saved our lives and for that we are extremely grateful, but Eddie and I must now pursue these monsters. Pursue them to their lair.”

“And destroy them,” said Eddie.

“Well, apprehend them, at least.”

“Destroy them,” said Eddie. “At least.”

“Well, we’ll see how things take shape when we catch up with them.”

“And how will we do that?” Eddie asked.

Jack now made a certain face. “Now, excuse me,” he said, “but don’t I recall you telling me at some time or another – yesterday, in fact – how bears are noted for their tracking abilities?”

“Ah, yes,” said Eddie. And he sniffed. “And I have the scent of the other me in my nostril parts right now.”

“Then sniff on please, Mister Bear,” said Jack.

“Mister Bear,” said Eddie. “I like that, Mister Bear.”

“Then sniff on, if you will.”

“I will.”

Jack thanked the Phantom once more and promised that he would return as soon as matters were sorted and take he, she or it out for a beer, or a cocktail, or a measure of motor oil. Or something. Eddie Bear too said his thanks and then he and Jack descended into the void that lay, uninvitingly, beneath the open trap door.

And not before time, as it happened, for now laughing policemen swarmed into the auditorium. And rushed in the direction of the stage. But there they found nothing, for the trap door was closed and the Phantom had melted away.

“Which way?” Jack asked. “I can’t see a thing.”

“Follow Mister Bear,” said Eddie. “And I’m here – stick out your hand.”

And Jack followed Eddie and Eddie Bear sniffed the way ahead. Which just went to show how subtle a bear’s smelling sense can be, considering the stink of all that business down there.

“They might be hiding down here,” Jack whispered, “waiting to get us.”

“They’re not,” said Eddie. “My nose tells me that. But if they’re still upon our world, then Mister Bear will find them.”

Jack was about to voice words to the effect that he might soon grow tired of Eddie calling himself Mister Bear, but then he considered that he probably wouldn’t. Mister Bear sounded good; it lent Eddie dignity.

“After you, Mister Bear,” said Jack.

And Mister Bear led on. And soon he and Jack were no longer in the Opera House; they were outside in the car park. Police car roof lights flashed around this car park, and Eddie and Jack moved with stealth.

“Actually, why are we moving with stealth?” Jack asked.

“Because,” said Eddie, “this would be the moment when the misidentification scenario kicks in and we both get arrested.”

“I’ll bet I can move with more stealth than you,” Jack said.

“And I’ll bet you cannot.”

Eddie did further sniffings at the evening air. “To use one of your favourite words,” he said, “damn.”

“They took a car, didn’t they?” Jack asked.

“That is what they did, but I can still track them. We’ll just have to get the Anders Faircloud and skirt around the police cordon until I can pick up the scent again.”

“Right,” said Jack, and he plucked up Eddie. “Then let’s do this fast.” And with that Jack took to his heels in a stealthy kind of a way.

There followed then far more skirting around the police cordon than either Eddie or Jack might have hoped for. Jack drove with his head down, but Eddie had to stick his out of the window.

They were outside Tinto’s Bar when Eddie picked up the scent once more.