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Chapter 20

"Hm. So the dogs lost the scent?" Clarice asked, puzzled. She'd worked with blood hounds before and the news surprised her. The creatures were tenacious and almost preternaturally accurate. The weather conditions had been good, no rain, and the scene perfectly preserved.

Hannibal shook his head. "No. Not exactly. It split. The scent went two directions." He picked up his tea cup and sipped, looking at the stretch of snowcapped mountains through their suite's picture window.

"It doesn't make sense," she said. "The preserved crime scene… the early discovery… our monsters fleeing. One of them wouldn't have had time to flee, backtrack, and then go a different route." Her fingers tapped against her coffee cup.

"It's true, there was no time for someone to backtrack. They split. Our monsters share the same scent."

Her brow crinkled. "No, that doesn't make sense. Scent is unique, the way fingerprints are."

Hannibal smiled, a knowing smile, and a small part of her was pissed off he'd figured it out and she still hadn't. Most of the time she found his big brain sexy, an integral part of what made him so compelling. Sometimes it just pissed her off. Annoyance aside, it was damn incredible to have front row seats to his intellect, to the intuitive leaps his mind so often made. "Okay," she said, waiting.

"Fingerprints are unique, yes. But scent is not. DNA is not."

It clicked for her. "Twins," she said, and smiled. [D]

"And it explains their bond as partners in crime. They won't tell on each other," she continued. "How are they ever going to know who actually killed who?"

She looked at Hannibal.

"They?" he asked, amused by the still conditioned idiom.

"What? Oh, right. Well, figuratively speaking - they will never catch them."

"And we will?" he teased, knowing he'd receive an incredulous or even angered look.

Her head turned with lightning speed.

Her wrath is more saccharine than the sweetest honeydew.

And then she amazed him when she refrained from rebuffing. A winning smile appeared on her lips.

"I will," she stated. "There's just one thing that bothers me. This latest murder was in München, three days ago, right? And we have an appointment with this knife cognoscente in Innsbruck this afternoon. That's against the route our duo is taking. They'll have to travel back. Well, at least one of them."

"Correct. But I don't see any problem in that. The knife we're offering is worth a little detour, I'd say. I know I wouldn't mind." [MB]

She grinned. "No, I guess you wouldn't."

.

Three hours later they sat at a table in an upscale resort. Not the resort they were staying at, just in case their man was craftier than they thought, but a lovely place nonetheless.

"Why didn't we stay here?" Clarice asked.

"I don't like their wine cellar as well."

She smirked. Such a snob, her Hans.

Though he was attentive to their conversation, she knew he was scanning the crowd on the street through the window behind her. His eyes latched onto one figure and followed his progress.

"Showtime?" she asked.

"Showtime, my dear."

A few minutes later the young man approached their table, his gait off centered and favoring his right side. Clarice had seen that walk before, had hobbled around exactly like it herself. He had a broken rib. Perhaps more than one. His face showed no injuries, though, and she realized it was a very attractive face. He was good looking, with striking blue eyes and sharp cheekbones.

She and Hannibal both stood and she shook his hand in greeting. "Hi! It's nice to meet you. Thank you for coming out to take a look at our baby," she said, giving him a wide smile. He returned her shake with a weak, moist grip, and didn't quite meet her eyes when he mumbled his reply. He then shook Hannibal's outstretched hand and the three of them sat down. [D]

"Before we start," Clarice commenced, "may I ask how you came across our latest model? We're evaluating the implementation of outsourcing the marketing component in our company."

The blank stare in his eyes was telling enough.

"I think I need to rephrase that. Our company hired another company for the advertisements and we'd like to know if that was a good idea. Can I ask you a few questions about that, before we proceed to the knife itself?"

"Oh, okay. Sure."

"Where did you find out about the knife?"

"The internet."

"An ad on another site, or did you find our page by yourself, Google, DuckDuckGo or whatever?"

"Google."

Clarice jotted down a few scribbles on the paper in front of her before proceeding.

"Do you remember what words you searched for?"

"Pff... that's difficult to say."

Clarice looked up at him.

"Please, sir, we need this information."

"Eh... I guess probably Knife and Unique."

"Knife and Unique? Okay..."

She wrote a few more words before proceeding, keeping her eyes on her papers.

"You're not a company?"

"No."

"We had another visitor with the same name. A relative, perhaps, a brother?"

Clarice raised her eyes to him.

"I don't have a brother."

Clarice focused her attention slightly to Hannibal, who didn't move a muscle.

So he's speaking the truth? Not our man. Damn. [MB]

"May I see the knife?" he asked quietly, still not looking them in the eyes.

"We had a little trouble with customs," Clarice answered. "Technicalities, just a brief delay. We have photos though," she said, setting several color prints in front of him.

His meek visage dissolved. He stood abruptly and finally met her gaze, his face engulfed in rage. "What sort of bullshit is this?" His chair tipped behind him and fell on its side. The dining hall quieted as the few diners turned to watch the spectacle.

"I traveled to get here. Hours out of my way! And you think I'm stupid enough to hand over money for some make-believe knife?" He stormed from the room before either of them could answer.

Hannibal continued to sip at his tea.

Clarice smiled. "Hours out of his way, huh? And I bet you a euro he has a brother." [D]

Hannibal slowly put down his glass.

"No need to bet, he definitely has. He was lying, it's one of the twins. We should go now and follow him."

He rose and offered her his hand, which she ignored, and they started after their man.

"I didn't see he lied, but you did. Why didn't you do something? We could have..."

"Create a scene making an 'arrest'? No action in public, remember? You're not an active agent and I'm hardly one to make a citizen's arrest. Which, by the way, would not have been allowed. In Germany, citizen's arrests can be made under §127 of the code of penal procedures if the arrestee is caught in flagrante delicto and..."

"Okay, I get it. I'm sorry. Let's simply stick to plan and follow him."

Clarice retrieved a jacket, a cap and a Jabra from her bag and donned them.

"I'm set, you get the car."

Hannibal had donned his Jabra in the meantime and was already calling her.

"Okay, we're go," he said when she answered, and turned left to the garage. [MB]