Paris, France

September, 1876

A stiff butler escorted the visitor into an impressive library, and bade the man to wait for the comte. The tall, pale stranger merely nodded his understanding and then cast a glance at the books that filled the shelves around him. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, making his stance one of calm, relaxed attention. He was dressed as any gentleman of means would be but a short astrakhan cap clearly marked him as no mere business associate.

Not many minutes after he had been left in the library, the door opened. A smile appeared and faded in an instant as the sound of a crying child could be heard. Philippe de Chagny, Comte, hurried into the room, making sure to quickly and firmly close the door behind himself. The brown haired man looked harried and annoyed.

“You are Ahmir Khan?”

The dark eyed man nodded and curtly and gave the slightest of bows in greeting. “How may I be of service to you, my lord?” he asked as he straightened to his full height. “Your summons to come here was most unexpected, and quite vague, if I may say so.”

With a wave of his hand, the comte gestured for his visitor to be seated. “I have been reliably informed that you are a man who deals with problems that cannot be handled in traditional ways,” Chagny said as he himself moved to take a seat behind his ornate desk that sat in the middle of the room. “Is this so?”

Modestly, Khan spread his hands. “It depends on the problem,” he answered as he took a seat opposite the desk. “But there have been very few occasions where I have failed to complete the task I had taken on. Do you have a 'problem', my lord comte?”

Chagny glanced down at some papers on his desk. “What can you tell me about the affair of the Phantom of the opera?” he asked.

“That's a rather involved question, my lord,” Khan responded, raising an eyebrow. He leaned back in his chair. “I am aware of the tales that have spread; they have been told for many years now. There was talk of a man, or apparition, causing trouble for the residents of the Opera Populaire. Most people shrug the stories off as superstitious imaginings of theater folk.”

“Yes, and what else?”

Khan frowned. “Five years ago, there was a fire at the opera house,” he continued, sticking to the main facts that he knew. “It was said that the fire was the phantom's revenge for being rejected by a ballet dancer. And some sixteen months ago, a member of your family, your brother I believe, and several of his acquaintances laid a plot to catch a man you suspected of being the phantom.”

Looking both chagrined and annoyed, Chagny shook his head. “That fool brother of mine,” he muttered. He cleared his throat. “You're very well informed, Khan.”

“Mere stories. Many people know them.”

“They are not stories,” Chagny informed him, bringing his fist down on his desk. With an obvious effort, the viscomte forced himself to relax. “Every word you heard is completely true. There was a man living beneath the opera house and he destroyed it when my brother became...enamored with that ballet girl.”

Interest glinting in his eyes, Khan straightened up. “You are taking an interest in your brother's dealings now? After five years?”

“My brother has become obsessed with hunting the monster down. He will bankrupt our family very soon if nothing is done to stop him. My father kept my brother from going to far, but he died six months ago, and Raoul has been uncontrollable, seeking this man,” Chagny spat out. “He claims it is for justice. That a murderer cannot be allow to go free.”

Frowning at the comte, Khan commented in an offhand manner, “A noble thought, but one you clearly do not believe him to mean.” He paused and then continued, “Those who take another's life and yet are not brought to justice are of particular interest to me. You wish for me to bring this man to face authorities for his crimes? Is it proof that you require to do this?”

Chagny visibly hesitated and Khan's eyes narrowed. “It is not a matter of proof. This...man has fled from France,” he explained. “My brother has employed many men for this task, and that is as much as they have learned. Raoul spent nearly half his fortune to discover that. There was sign of the man. It was as if he were actually a ghost and simply vanished.”

“You must know something now or you would not have sent for me.”

The comte lifted a folded newspaper and held it across the desk. “This was brought to my attention a few days ago,” he said. Leaning forward, Khan took the paper and began to scan through the American news. “Its a small article on the highlights from the New York theater scene.”

Khan's eyes found the article and noted a name that had been circled: Maeve O’Connell. “What of it?”

“Maeve O'Connell, a dancer who suddenly becomes a rising star? Does that sound familiar?” Chagny answered. “And the mother of my...sister-in-aw's companion, Madame Giry, is also there. She is the one who brought that monster to the opera house, cared for him, sheltered him, protected him, and helped him on many occasions from what my brother tells me. If she has found her way to New York, he cannot be far from her.”

Re-folding the paper, Khan tossed it back onto the desk. “What wrong did this man commit for you to chase him for five years?”

“I blame him for what has become of my family,” Chagny said with a growl in his voice. “My parents were laughed at and scorned because of my brother's wife. And, this monster murdered countless people. The sooner he is dead, the better.”

Khan frowned. “Even if I agreed with your reasoning, I am no murderer, Comte.”

“He is in a city that has no idea of what he is capable of! Who is stop him from killing to get what he desires? Again? How many more lives will he destroy as he has my family? Bring him here to die or end his life there, it makes little difference to me,” the comte snapped. “He must be stopped.”

For a moment, Khan simply stared at him. “This is not a decision you came to on your own,” he realized. “You've already admitted your family has wasted a great deal of wealth on this venture. Why do you continue to seek a man who is across an ocean? Surely he can do you and yours no more harm where he is.”

Flushing, Chagny looked away. “He is merely acting out of concern for his brother's wife,” a cold voice stated. “The viscomtesse de Chagny can never rest easy until she knows for a certainty that she will never again be haunted by that man. As he brother-in-law, he will naturally go to any lengths to reassure her.”

Getting to his feet, Khan turned to face the newcomer. John Arden came forward from the doorway, a cool smirk on his face. “And you, sir?” Khan asked. “What do you hope to gain from all this? You do not family that has been a victim of this man, do you?”

Arden's smile became cruel and mirthless. “Let's just say he humiliated me once, and its long overdue for him to pay for that,” he answered. “So, Khan. Will you handle this problem for us?”

Considering the situation, Khan looked from one man to the other. Chagny looked hopeful, but Arden's face showed clearly that refusal would bring unpleasant reprisals. “As I said, I take murderers who fail to face their consequences very personally,” Khan stated slowly. “Yes. I will undertake this problem of yours.”

“No doubt you have more you need to know,” Chagny remarked, gesturing for Khan to take his seat.

Nodding curtly, Khan returned to the chair. “You will keep us appraised,” Arden stated, coming around to stand by Chagny.

“If I discover anything of value, you can be sure that I will be in contact,” Khan answered. He had come across many heartless men in his line of work, but John Arden certainly topped them. Khan was left with a cold feeling as Arden and Chagny alternated filling him in on the details. The sooner he finished this job, the better.

 ~*~

Standing outside the library, Meg Giry held a hand over her mouth. She stepped back, moving as quickly and quietly as she could. As she moved along the hallway, she could hear her dear friend Christine singing to the one year old toddler.

She reached the safety of her room and closed the door behind her. She leaned against it for a moment, her mind racing with the information she'd just heard. For the past year, she'd made the de Chagny home her home as well, at Christine's invitation. She hesitated for a moment. Was her loyalty to her mother, who had been left her in Paris? Or was it to the coupe who had been so kind to her since she'd given up the struggle to be a ballet dancer?

It took only a moment to decide. “I must warn Mother,” she said aloud. She made her way across the room and sat at the little used desk. She drew a sheet of paper out and began to write quickly. 

_________

A/N: Yes, I see the irony of Benedict Cumberbatch, who played Khan in Star Trek, to be cast as Ahmir Khan here.