Hannibal- 25

The characters are not my own. That honor belongs to Thomas Harris.

25

Rain came down in sheets, drenching the land.

It reminded Clarice of the morning after her father's funeral. The simple home and been stripped of every personal possession to pay off the month's rent and other debt her parent's accumulated during their life together. Momma had passed away before the next month's rent was due.

Yes. Clarice was happy that the rain poured now. It suited her mood.

In this fine manor, with a fine man. A creative, stimulating, and uniquely handsome man. His features were unusual individually, but put them together and he really did make a fine specimen. She turned away from the window and caught Dr. Lecter sketching near the fireplace in what she now claimed to be her room.

At a glance, she saw that he had been sketching her profile.

He allowed her a few moments before meeting her stare. "Clarice, are you ready to talk? It has been nearly 3 days since you said anything at all. I'm beginning to worry." His tone made it clear that he was worried, but also a bit annoyed.

She turned to face her distorted reflection through the window again.

Clarice was herself and in another light, she was not herself.

"I'm starting to suspect that you have a great deal on your mind that you are sorting through. Perhaps, my suggestion regarding the… disposition of former Congressman Paul Krender? He remains conscious, well fed, and sleeps comfortably. Though, his strength is growing and I fear that he may begin to resist my hospitality."

"Doctor, your hospitality has never been in question." It hurt a bit to speak since she hadn't used her voice for several days.

She noticed the air shift around her and knew that he had stood close. "Then, may I ask what is troubling you, if not my treatment of your attacker?"

Clarice smirked a bit at the not so subtle reminder that Dr. Lecter had saved her from Krendler's nasty intentions.

"You still have the paper?" He observed as he picked it up. "Shall I pitch it into the rubbish bin?"

She turned. "No, I'd like to save it."

"Planning on adding it to a scrapbook collection? Perhaps next to the capture of Buffalo Bill? Or maybe, you collect as I do. A church fire sent 8 disciples to heaven last week in Verona."

Clarice read between the verbose lines of her host. Dr. Lecter still questioned her affections. Would she turn him over to the FBI or join him with his cannibalistic endeavors? "I have no interest in scrapbooking. But I am working on a project. Fine tuning it." She lifted the Tattler newspaper to read the front page. The headline said:

Corruption in the FBI. Suspect still at Large!

Former Congressman Paul Krendler is suspected to be at large with Dr. Abel Gideon. An escaped murderer who most recently broke out of Boston's Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Continued on page 7.

Clarice knew that page 7 held the details of a money trail linking Mason Verger, Frederick Chilton (his grisly murder), and a host of other names. Some were politicians. The FBI was having a rough turn around under the new leadership. Will Graham himself had another ex-posé; a recap of his brutal encounter with Abel Gideon. And a few women had come forward to report Krendler's brutal abuse on their person.

Clarice was having a difficult time trying to understand her own emotional state towards that sicko. Much less dealing with matters of her shredded heart.

"Doctor, you've read this."

"I have."

"I want to be sure about my plans before doing anything… irrational."

"You are anything but irrational." He replied. "What can I do to help you?"

"I'd like to borrow your car. I don't have the strength to ride my motorcycle just yet."

"Might I offer an alternative?" He offered.

"Go on."

"We can leave. Travel. Go wherever you'd like."

She stared at him in silence until he could no longer bear it.

"Or, if my company is no longer suitable to your tastes, I can send you somewhere. Give you the means to travel the world. If that is your wish." He breathed in deeply as if to brace himself from something painful. "I wouldn't have to be with you, if that is what you wish. If too much has happened, knowing I am… what I am, if it is too much…" He seemed unwilling to continue.

"Hannibal," Clarice reached out and took his steady hand, "If I travel the world, I'd like you with me. And for my plans regarding Krendler, I'll need you with me."

He quirked his head. "What are your plans?"

She pointed to page 7 of the Tattler. "I need to speak with this waitress first." Clarice needed concrete evidence to follow through with her unspoken intentions. She thought that Hannibal's chin raised in admiration. Forever the dutiful agent.

(O)

Paul Krendler spent the first few days in this dank basement in complete fear. In another life, he and his wife would be spending their vacation on a beach in Bora Bora. Her body looked amazing after a fresh tan. Of course now, he was certain that his wife might be under surveillance, detained, and possibly charged with an indictment. She didn't have the strength to remain loyal under pressure.

The word "AUDIT" haunted his nightmares.

The passage of money from Mason Verger to an account in the Cayman Islands would be dissected now that the gimp was dead. And his Amazon sister, Margot had provided the Chief Grant direct access into her bank accounts. According to this week's news that Lecter was so keen to provide. No doubt the lesbian wanted to clear her own name and throw Paul under the bus.

But that was no longer the point.

Paul was alive and healing. He planned to keep it that way, even if it meant killing Lecter and Starling with his massive bare hands.

(O)

The hotelier's restaurant had a nice, generic atmosphere. It was clean. Easy to spot each patron or easy enough to disappear into the crowd. Whatever the case may be. She chose a table in the corner next to the water fountain; the rushing water could mask their conversation should a person venture too close or become curious.

"Miss Rockford, thank you for meeting with me." Clarice watched the slender strawberry blonde sit. It was clear that the young woman was nervous, uncomfortable.

She kept her argyle handbag on her shoulder, ready to bolt if necessary.

"Like I told ya lady, I've already talked to the police." She pronounced it pole-eeece. Her thick southern accent explained a lot to Clarice. "Nothing more to say to you or anyone else."

"I'm not with the police anymore, but I knew Mr. Krendler."

The young woman flushed in anger. "Think I'm lying too, don't ya?! Just like that wife of his. She come at me spittin' and swearin'. Right here, where I work! Called me a 2-bit ho and that I was out for my 15 minutes of fame." She stood, eager to lash out or run. "I'm not a liar."

Clarice calmly unbuttoned her blouse to the middle of her sternum. Miss Rockford froze at such a thing. "Do you see these bruises? They're fading fast now, but they were a lot darker not too long ago. He put those fat, nasty hands on me too." The purple fingerprints had changed to a yellowish green, but the marks covered her entire breast plate. Clarice fastened her blouse without a thought to her immodesty.

"He did that?" She collapsed into the chair.

"Would've done worse if my friend hadn't helped me. I just thought you should know, Miss Rockford."

"Call me Jessie." She took a long drink of iced water and removed her pink swirled scarf. "It's going to scar." A small, circular scab lay on the skinny neck. "I met him here at work. He kept ordering the expensive stuff, ya know, like in the movies. He's not that attractive, but he's built. I like that. Or I did. Until he went to hurting me."

Clarice gave her a few moments to recover and replied. "I'm not as brave as you."

Jessie gave her a bewildered look.

"I just mean that, you reported him, and I think that is brave."

"That isn't brave." Jessie replied sadly.

"If it were me, I'd have taken the cowardly approach and killed his ass."

Jessie gave a bark of laughter. "That's the brave thing to do."

Clarice shook her head. "No, what you're doing to him, is humiliating his life. The one that he worked so hard to obtain. What I'd have done would be too cowardly and quick. Make that bastard suffer just as much as you can. I bet the Bureau will help you too, just to get you to quiet down. Raise holy hell when they do that. Lawyer up too. It may cost you in the beginning, but you'll be compensated. Trust me."

"Could you?" Jessie looked Clarice square in the eye. "Could you do it? Kill him?" She waved in general. "If you ever found him in this great big-ole world of ours, would you kill him? Because I think if anyone should, it should be you. My money would be on you."

The women shook hands and left each other with a different outlook on life.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, FOLKS. HAVE FUN & BE SAFE.