«Places for Act Two!»

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«Places for Act Two!» Page 2

by Bradley H. Sinor


  "That would help with you knowing the blocking. But you say you read the libretto just once?" asked Liam.

  "That's right. Anything I read I remember, every word of it."

  "Your voice, sir?"

  Liam, Burberry and the others looked toward the door. A man, dressed in evening clothes, with a neatly waxed mustache stood there.

  "Mr. Gilbert!" said Effie.

  "Your voice, sir? What do you sing?" said William Schwenchk Gilbert. The fifty-seven year old lyricist spoke with the manner of a Sergeant-Major demanding something from one of his troops.

  "Baritone."

  "And you say you know my words?"

  "Indeed, " Dracula began to sing, "'Oh , better to live and die, under the brave black flag I fly. Then play a sanctimonious part, with a pirate head and a pirate heart.'"

  Gilbert stood silent, his face unmoving and emotionless.

  "Effie!" said Gilbert. "Can you alter Everett's costume quick enough to fit the Count? I can have them hold the curtain an extra ten minutes, but not a second longer."

  "I'll have him looking like those clothes were made for him."

  "Do it."

  "Still nervous, Liam?" asked Dracula.

  The two men stood in the wings, looking out at the back of the great gold curtain that covered the front of the stage. Effie was standing just behind them, tying off several threads in the Count's costume.

  "A bit. But I should be asking you if you're nervous. After all, you came to see the play, now you're a part of it."

  "I am a bit nervous," said Dracula.

  "Then break a leg, Count."

  "Thank you, Liam."

  * * *

  No one heard a shot. With the orchestra well into the act's final number it would have been impossible to hear anything short of a cannon going off. Liam would have never known that anything happened if he had not been looking straight toward the Royal Box.

  Something struck the plaster wall edging just above the Prince and Princess of Wales, sending a shower of powder down across the duo. Their Royal Highnesses looked around as puzzled as everyone else. A moment later they began laughing as the elaborate dance on stage ended and the curtain rolled down.

  As Dracula exited behind the waterfall curtain, Liam grabbed the Count and explained what he had seen.

  "It was not your imagination, Liam, nor was it the manifestation of this ancient theater, exhibiting its aches and pains. I saw it as well. I suspect a rifle shot," he said.

  "A rifle? In the Theatre? Why, and who would be using it?"

  "I'm not sure," said Dracula. "I suspect that it came from somewhere above us."

  Liam's eyes traced the edge of the curtain up into the darkness high above the backstage area. It was a landscape of catwalks, curtains and ropes, all helping to add to the illusion that was projected on stage. There were a few figures moving around on the catwalk, ten feet in the air, where they could raise and lower the curtains. But it was higher that Liam looked, nearly a hundred feet, near the top of the building itself. He saw nothing, but apparently Dracula did.

  "Follow me," said the Count.

  Liam was only a moment behind him. Attached to the back wall of the theater was a ladder that ran all the way to the roof. Dracula was thirty feet onto it when Liam began climbing, moving upwards into the darkness.

  More than a dozen heavy black curtains, along with an equal number of smaller, lighter ones, hung from railings that were in turn suspended from beams embedded in walls of the theater itself. Below and all around them Liam could hear the sounds of the stage crew busily changing the set to get it ready for act two.

  Once they reached the highest level there was little light. The catwalks were nothing but long boards, a foot or so wide at best, had been placed along the girders to provide a path for workman. A single misstep could send someone hurtling down.

  That fact did not bother Dracula. He moved quickly, with a confidence that seemed inhuman. Liam tried to keep up, but it was not easy. When Liam finally caught up with the Count they had made their way back across the stage area and stood next to the top of the huge waterfall curtain.

  "Observe," said Dracula. His long slim fingers pointed downwards. From this perch they had a clear view of the royal box. "I would say this is where the assassin shot from."

  "Thank God he missed," said Liam. "But where is he now?"

  "I think close by," said Dracula. He motioned for Liam to be silent, his eyes blazing redder than ever. Dracula was a hunter seeking his prey.

  Liam heard the soft sound of a board creaking. He turned and found himself confronting a figure, dressed in the same pirate costume that the actors wore. In the semi-darkness it seemed a fearful apparition that was trying to slip by the two men.

  "I think not," Liam said.

  He moved to intercept the assassin but missed his footing and stumbled, ramming his head hard against a metal strut that supported the curtain. It was only the purest luck that he was able to keep from falling from the girder. Around him the world whirled for a moment, transforming the stage light below into a rainbow of colors.

  That was when he noticed the fog. It came from nowhere, it was just there, flowing around the upper part of the theater. Liam tried to focus on Dracula, dressed as the Pirate King, who stood now facing the assassin in the crewman's costume.

  The words that Dracula had sung earlier in the Green Room ran through Liam's mind, echoing in the Count's strong baritone. "Oh , better to live and die, under the brave black flag I fly. Then play a sanctimonious part, with a pirate head and a pirate heart." Then Dracula was gone, replaced by a huge silver wolf, the fog blending into the beast's coat. The animal's growl was an otherworldly sound that seemed to Liam something out of a nightmare. The assassin screamed and tried to back away.

  Liam's eyesight began to clear and he could see Dracula again. The fog was gone and so was the wolf. The Count was grappling with the assassin. In a single motion he managed to hurl him against the curtain. The impact made a dull thud that sent the figure collapsing into an unconscious heap.

  Liam got to his feet and made his way over to their prisoner. There was enough light coming through the top of the curtain that he could see the figure's face.

  "Effie?!"

  With the help of a couple of stage hands, Effie had been taken down from the theater aerie. She now lay stretched out, unconscious, on a pallet of curtains and sacks, a thin trail of drying blood running from a cut on her scalp.

  A crowd of actors and stage hands surround them. Gilbert, Bunberry and the large fat man that Liam had seen earlier had appeared out of nowhere.

  "It looks as if we have what we were hoping for." said the fat man.

  "Is there a doctor in the house?" said Gilbert. That it was one of the oldest theatrical clichés ever didn't seem to matter when William Gilbert said it.

  "I think having a doctor look over both Effie and Liam would be a good idea," said Dracula.

  "Arguably," said the fat man. "Send one of the stage hands to box A17. There is a doctor named Watson with the A.J. Raffles party."

  "Are we going to be able to finish this show?" asked Gilbert.

  "Oh, yes," said the fat man, "if Mr. Gideon and the Count are able to carry on, and I think there should be no doubt of that. By the way, Count, I thoroughly enjoyed your performance. You have a wonderful voice and a real talent for comedy."

  "Look here, Holmes." said Bunberry.

  "Holmes?" said Liam. He knew that name, as any regular reader of The Strand magazine did. "Are you?"

  "That was my late brother. But it doesn't matter who I am, young man, because you never heard that name mentioned in this theater, and I was never here." said the fat man. "Consider that an order from Her Majesty's Government."

  "Yes, sir," said Liam. He had other questions he wanted to ask, but discretion seemed the better part of valor right now.

  "Perhaps you could explain things to me, sir," said Dracula. "Would I be correct in assuming that this whole
matter of the reprise of Pirates was part of an elaborate plan? Who is Effie?"

  The fat man, who wasn't there, removed a cigar case from his inside jacket, opened it and offered one to Dracula. The Count declined.

  "As to your first question, you may be right or you may wrong, that is all I can say. As for Effie, my dear Count, besides being the costume mistress for this theater, is an expert with a one-shot air rifle. I know of only one better, a former Indian army colonel. Those skills earned her a position as an assassin for hire, working this evening for a Scottish anarchist group," he said.

  "And you want her to tell you all about her employers," said Dracula.

  "It would be very nice to hear about her current and past employers... She can choose to cooperate with us, or face a hangman's noose. Her Majesty's government had long suspected her, but we never had any proof. Tonight, we have the proof we needed. Thanks to the cooperation of Mr. Gilbert & Mr. Sullivan, Their Highnesses, and a pair of very good actors who portrayed them this evening, not mention Effie's hatred of the royals and anything non- Scottish... Now, I have matters that require my attention. May I wish you, Count, and the rest of the cast the best of lu..."

  "The proper phrase is 'Break a Leg,' I believe," said Dracula.

  "Ah, yes, quite right. Very well then, break a leg."

  Others came crowding around Effie, Gilbert and the fat man, so Liam and Dracula withdrew to the far corner of the stage.

  "Count, I have to ask you something," said Liam.

  "What is that, Liam?"

  "Up there, when were fighting Effie, did I see what I thought I saw?"

  "And what was that?"

  "I would swear that I saw one of Finn McCool's wolves. But then it was gone," he said.

  "Are you sure of what you saw? Any more sure than Everett is that he did not have a visitor earlier this evening. One that told him to take a long nap," Dracula said.

  "Perhaps not. But why, Count? Why did you do it?"

  "Partially curiosity. When you are as old as I am you embrace the unknown. By the time we encountered Effie, I had no choice. I was a 'slave to duty'," he said with a grin.

  Before Liam could speak the assistant stage manager came up behind the men.

  "Places for Act Two, gentlemen," he said.

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