In the darkness of the night, there was heard a rustling sound. A
black and brown cat gracefully walked over the rooftops of cars in a Rental
Car Parking Lot.
It was one of the few rental places that remained open as long as there were incoming airport flights. And on this night, there were still quite a few to come in before the rental store could close for the weekend.
After a few roundabout stops to switch flights, and thus elude possible captors, Clarice Starling's flight finally landed in Nashville, where the Rental Car was still awaiting any last minute customers.
She didn't carry much, but it was enough to make her wish she had left more than a little behind. Shaking her head softly, she waited in line to board the shuttle bus that would take her to the rental agency.
As she left the Rental Lot, and got firmly settled in the SUV's comfortable seats, she finally let her mind wander to the purpose for her visit. Though she had no disillusions that she was here officially, as a FBI Special Agent, she still felt immensely comforted by the presence of her gun, and surprisingly repulsed by the fact that her Badge had sneaked its way into her purse. With or without the badge, it made no difference. She was here because he – Dr. Hannibal Lecter – had asked her to come. The reasons behind this were as unknown to her as the reason she came.
The meeting place was almost ridiculously hilarious: Memphis Tennessee. The place where, she later reflects, 'it' all first started. No, not in the dark and musty corridor and cell of the Baltimore Asylum as she first assumed; for this was where she had first been made aware of the fact that perhaps, just perhaps, the FBI was not all it was cracked up to be. No. After Memphis, the dreams started. She started hearing his voice in her head, and hoping that someday they could perhaps meet without bars, or any other barrier between them.
So it was somewhat comical that he should choose this place, among so many, for their meeting. On the other hand, it was puzzling. Not a year ago, the events leading up to and following the Drumgo Fiasco occurred, including most notably the Chesapeake (for lack of a better description).
Her thinking had changed none too subtly since then. Her demeanor towards her coworkers and supervisors back at Quantico was barely on the civil side, but despite her annoyance with them, she was still polite – almost to the point where it drove her would be attackers to insanity.
Yet another thing she had learned from Dr. Lecter. Sometimes, she reflected, it is better to listen to him, 'monster' that he is.
It was late, yes, but Starling had set for herself a very strict deadline for which to be within the city limits of Memphis. The usual 3 hours in route from Nashville to Memphis would have to be cut down as much as possible (preferably avoiding a speeding ticket along the way).
As soon as she got to Memphis, her first priority would be to check into a hotel. Preferably one of the nicer ones, though Starling was no stranger when it came to 'making do' with whatever fate gave her. But for now, her sole priority was staying alert, and actually getting to Memphis in once piece.
When the shrill sound of her cell phone cut through the relative silence of the cab, she nearly jumped, and barely managed to suppress a yelp of surprise. Rummaging slightly through her purse, she retrieved the cell phone. She put the earpiece in her ear, and clicked "Talk".
"Starling." She said almost gruffly. It was rather hard for her to believe that anyone would choose this time of night to call her, unless it was someone from the Bureau. She ruled out that possibility almost as soon as she thought of it. No one from the FBI had made the slightest attempts to phone her, or even talk to her beyond what was utterly required. More than a few of her coworkers were put off by the fact that she had survived a meeting with Hannibal The Cannibal, let alone tried to save him.
"Now, now, Clarice. It's hardly polite to answer your phone with such a tone of voice." The strangely soothing voice of Doctor Lecter cut in from the other end.
"Doctor Lecter. I'm sorry, I just didn't expect anyone to be calling this time of night." She said apologetically.
"Quite alright, Clarice. How was your flight?"
"Better than flying in the Blue Canoe, I must say. A little on the noisy side, though. Thank you." She paused briefly. "I'm on the outskirts of Nashville now, somewhere on the highway." She had anticipated his next question, and was rewarded with a slight chuckle in response.
"I must admit, I had very little hopes that you would actually take me up on my offer. Why did you decide to indulge me, Clarice? Trying to lull me into a false sense of security before taking me in to your beloved FBI?"
"No! No, nothing like that, Dr. Lecter. Honestly, I don't know why I did. I was wondering that myself…along with why you asked me in the first place. One would think that after the Chesapeake that you would not want to see me again, unless for revenge of some sort."
At this he laughed. "Revenge! What a delightful thought. But no, I would never exact revenge upon you, Clarice. I do, however, believe that quite a few issues were left unresolved. The mere fact that you are coming is just begging to be analyzed. Perhaps it's a last ditch attempt by an aging madman to have some kind of resolution in my life…or perhaps a try at happiness…" he let that thought hang in the air. Starling, a little amazed, and a little bit apprehensive of his statement, didn't reply.
"Are you still there, Clarice?" he asked somewhat playfully, the seriousness of the previous statement forgotten.
"Yes"
"Good, wouldn't want to loose you after you've come this far, now would I? Now, what are your plans upon arrival?"
"Check in to a hotel, find somewhere to eat, then hopefully sleep. Though in what order, I don't know."
"I can help with at least one of those, Clarice. You will be staying in the Memphis Peabody hotel…one of the better establishments in Memphis that I had no time to visit during my previous stay. Beyond that, I cannot help you. There are a few restaurants in the hotel, and their room service, I have heard, is quite nice. Though whether or not you'll even make it that far, well, that's up to your state of rest. Your check in name is Beatrice Marcus."
~Beatrice Marcus…there's got to be something behind that~ Starling thought. She shrugged and switched lanes.
"Thank you, Doctor Lecter. How will I know to contact you?"
"Don't, I will contact you. Be sure to keep your cell phone charged up, Clarice. I'd hate to have you miss my call after all this trouble we went through to get here…"
It was one of the few rental places that remained open as long as there were incoming airport flights. And on this night, there were still quite a few to come in before the rental store could close for the weekend.
After a few roundabout stops to switch flights, and thus elude possible captors, Clarice Starling's flight finally landed in Nashville, where the Rental Car was still awaiting any last minute customers.
She didn't carry much, but it was enough to make her wish she had left more than a little behind. Shaking her head softly, she waited in line to board the shuttle bus that would take her to the rental agency.
As she left the Rental Lot, and got firmly settled in the SUV's comfortable seats, she finally let her mind wander to the purpose for her visit. Though she had no disillusions that she was here officially, as a FBI Special Agent, she still felt immensely comforted by the presence of her gun, and surprisingly repulsed by the fact that her Badge had sneaked its way into her purse. With or without the badge, it made no difference. She was here because he – Dr. Hannibal Lecter – had asked her to come. The reasons behind this were as unknown to her as the reason she came.
The meeting place was almost ridiculously hilarious: Memphis Tennessee. The place where, she later reflects, 'it' all first started. No, not in the dark and musty corridor and cell of the Baltimore Asylum as she first assumed; for this was where she had first been made aware of the fact that perhaps, just perhaps, the FBI was not all it was cracked up to be. No. After Memphis, the dreams started. She started hearing his voice in her head, and hoping that someday they could perhaps meet without bars, or any other barrier between them.
So it was somewhat comical that he should choose this place, among so many, for their meeting. On the other hand, it was puzzling. Not a year ago, the events leading up to and following the Drumgo Fiasco occurred, including most notably the Chesapeake (for lack of a better description).
Her thinking had changed none too subtly since then. Her demeanor towards her coworkers and supervisors back at Quantico was barely on the civil side, but despite her annoyance with them, she was still polite – almost to the point where it drove her would be attackers to insanity.
Yet another thing she had learned from Dr. Lecter. Sometimes, she reflected, it is better to listen to him, 'monster' that he is.
It was late, yes, but Starling had set for herself a very strict deadline for which to be within the city limits of Memphis. The usual 3 hours in route from Nashville to Memphis would have to be cut down as much as possible (preferably avoiding a speeding ticket along the way).
As soon as she got to Memphis, her first priority would be to check into a hotel. Preferably one of the nicer ones, though Starling was no stranger when it came to 'making do' with whatever fate gave her. But for now, her sole priority was staying alert, and actually getting to Memphis in once piece.
When the shrill sound of her cell phone cut through the relative silence of the cab, she nearly jumped, and barely managed to suppress a yelp of surprise. Rummaging slightly through her purse, she retrieved the cell phone. She put the earpiece in her ear, and clicked "Talk".
"Starling." She said almost gruffly. It was rather hard for her to believe that anyone would choose this time of night to call her, unless it was someone from the Bureau. She ruled out that possibility almost as soon as she thought of it. No one from the FBI had made the slightest attempts to phone her, or even talk to her beyond what was utterly required. More than a few of her coworkers were put off by the fact that she had survived a meeting with Hannibal The Cannibal, let alone tried to save him.
"Now, now, Clarice. It's hardly polite to answer your phone with such a tone of voice." The strangely soothing voice of Doctor Lecter cut in from the other end.
"Doctor Lecter. I'm sorry, I just didn't expect anyone to be calling this time of night." She said apologetically.
"Quite alright, Clarice. How was your flight?"
"Better than flying in the Blue Canoe, I must say. A little on the noisy side, though. Thank you." She paused briefly. "I'm on the outskirts of Nashville now, somewhere on the highway." She had anticipated his next question, and was rewarded with a slight chuckle in response.
"I must admit, I had very little hopes that you would actually take me up on my offer. Why did you decide to indulge me, Clarice? Trying to lull me into a false sense of security before taking me in to your beloved FBI?"
"No! No, nothing like that, Dr. Lecter. Honestly, I don't know why I did. I was wondering that myself…along with why you asked me in the first place. One would think that after the Chesapeake that you would not want to see me again, unless for revenge of some sort."
At this he laughed. "Revenge! What a delightful thought. But no, I would never exact revenge upon you, Clarice. I do, however, believe that quite a few issues were left unresolved. The mere fact that you are coming is just begging to be analyzed. Perhaps it's a last ditch attempt by an aging madman to have some kind of resolution in my life…or perhaps a try at happiness…" he let that thought hang in the air. Starling, a little amazed, and a little bit apprehensive of his statement, didn't reply.
"Are you still there, Clarice?" he asked somewhat playfully, the seriousness of the previous statement forgotten.
"Yes"
"Good, wouldn't want to loose you after you've come this far, now would I? Now, what are your plans upon arrival?"
"Check in to a hotel, find somewhere to eat, then hopefully sleep. Though in what order, I don't know."
"I can help with at least one of those, Clarice. You will be staying in the Memphis Peabody hotel…one of the better establishments in Memphis that I had no time to visit during my previous stay. Beyond that, I cannot help you. There are a few restaurants in the hotel, and their room service, I have heard, is quite nice. Though whether or not you'll even make it that far, well, that's up to your state of rest. Your check in name is Beatrice Marcus."
~Beatrice Marcus…there's got to be something behind that~ Starling thought. She shrugged and switched lanes.
"Thank you, Doctor Lecter. How will I know to contact you?"
"Don't, I will contact you. Be sure to keep your cell phone charged up, Clarice. I'd hate to have you miss my call after all this trouble we went through to get here…"