My heels clacked along the pavement.

It was still early in the morning. The dew was still on the trees and the morning had a quiet stillness to it. I walked purposefully toward my cafe and opened the door, the bell announcing my presence.

"Good morning Alex!" Smiled the blond haired server, who now knew me by name. 

"Good morning Pierre." I smiled softly. 

"We just made fresh croissants, would you like one?" He asked with a smirk.

"You know croissants are my kryptonite..."

He laughed.

"One croissant for my lovely friend!" Pierre announced.   

"Excellent!" I agreed, I paid him and sat viewing the warehouse.

Some very suspicious men were loading things off a van and into the warehouse. They got handed an envelope and they drove away. leaving two men to talk.

I ate my croissant. Then with a quick goodbye to Pierre. I left the store. I turned on the recorder and walked purposefully toward the open garage door of the warehouse. I loitered round the corner and waited till the men had gone into the building.

'Now's my chance. Here goes nothing.' I told myself.

I crossed quickly toward the building and took a steadying breath as I headed inside. I crept forward (with great difficulty) silently on my heels.

Crouching down to hide behind a crate as I heard very clearly french voices talking.

There was a lean blonde man leaning against another crate across the room from me.

He was talking to a rather short, bearded brunette man in a very secretive tone. I really wished I had paid more attention to my french lessons in school.

"Est-ce que l'envoi est arrivé?" Asked  the thin blond. 

{Did the shipment come in?}

"Oui trente cinq milliards de dollars d'or." The Shorter man replied.

[Yes thirty five billion dollars worth of gold.]

"Et tu n'as pas été suivi?" Blond asked. 

{And you were not followed?}

"Bien sûr que non! Pour quel genre d'idiot me prends-tu?!" The shorter man exclaimed. 

[ Of course not! What kind of fool do you take me for?!] 

There was a weighty silence.

"Les Anglais n'ont aucune connaissance de ce correct?" Tall asked.

{The English have no knowledge of this correct?}

"Oui monsieur, nous l'avons volé sous leur nez!" The short man chuckled.

[Yes sir, we stole it right out from under their noses.]

"Magnifique." Blond replied as he stood to his full height.

{Magnificent}

I crept closer so the microphone could pick up the voices of the men better.

*(Ring ring)*

My heart stopped beating.

"C'était quoi ça?!" Blond exclaimed, his bright blue eyes searching for the cause of the noise.

{What the hell was that?!}

"Un téléphone qui sonne !!" Replied beardy.

[A phone ringing!!]

"Ferme les portes." Blond demanded.

{Close the doors.}

I quickly declined the call. As Cindy's picture popped up on screen.

"terminé." The bearded man told his blond friend. 

[done]

"Nous savons que vous êtes ici! Abandonnez-vous et peut-être arriverons-nous à un accord!" The tall man shouted.

{We know you are here! Surrender yourselves and maybe we will come to an agreement!}

My heart pounded as the Shorter man inched closer toward my crate, a gun in his hand.

I surveyed the room. There was only one exit uncovered. A conveyor belt lead to an upper room.

I could see the toe of the man's shoe now.

I had no choice.

The man turned the corner and I sprung up at him. Knocking him off his feet and running for the conveyor which I crawled up quickly.

"Que faites-vous autour de vous imbécile! Attrappe-la!!" Blond shouted behind me.

{What are you standing around for you imbecile! Catch her!!}

"Oui monsieur!" Beardy replied. 

[Yes sir!]

I scrambled through the flab into what looked to be a factory. I rushed towards the door and thankfully it was unlocked, I ran out into the street and Immediately realized I was lost.

There were a few other industrial buildings to my right. But to my left...

Was the Old Opera Populaire.

A condemned building, grand as though it was. And the perfect place to hide. I rushed toward the gap in the chain link fence. 

Running as though my life depended on it... because it did. 

But before I could reach the steps of the building. White hot pain shot through my arm and shuddered through my body. I screamed but continued up the stairs and tried the door.

Locked.

I looked back to the man who shot me. His face had gone pale.

"La folle est entrée dans l'opéra hanté!"

[The mad woman has gone into the haunted opera!] He squeaked as his friend came out to join him.

He smirked a devilish smirk. "Laissez le fantôme la chercher alors" {Let the ghost get her then}

"Phantom? Are you boys threatening me with ghost stories?" I panted. 

"English girl then? Ah that makes more sense." Blonde replied, as he meandered to the fence. "The ghost is real."

"I don't believe in ghosts." I replied.

"You will. If you spend any time in there you will." He replied nodding to the building behind me. 

"Then what do you suggest I do?" I asked cocking my head to the side. 

"Come with us." Blonde demanded. 

"I'll take my chances with the ghost thanks." I snarked.

"Look at it this way. We can sit out here all night." The man replied. 

"And I can stay here all night too." I replied as I applied pressure to my aching arm. 

"The phantom of the opera does not take kindly to strangers in his domain." The man threatened.

"I'm not. coming. out." I ground out.

"You will. It's just a matter of time madame." He smirked.

I blinked as the man's lecherous smile faded off his face and turned back to the door.

...It was standing wide open.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. As I looked at the black interior of the opera house and The cavernous blackness beckoning me inside. I walked into the grande entrance and jumped as the door swung closed behind me. 

I could immediately feel a presence in the pitch black room and I felt a shiver go down my spine.

"I don't believe in ghosts." I reassured myself. 

And then I heard it. A ghostly whisper. 

'Come to me angel of music.'