Hannibal and Will exited Nascosto's building, moving between the shadow hours, unseen within that reliable lull of activity when most normal humans were having their evening meal, and headed back towards Hannibal's car.

"What now?" Will breathed to himself, to the world, to no-one in particular. Hannibal opened his mouth to relay some quiet words of reassurance just as he heard the gentle vibration emanating from Will's jacket and watched him scrabble at the pocket to retrieve his phone.

He quickly whipped it out and frowned at the display. It was Amy's number.

He hit green. "Philip?"

"James. It's me."

"Amy?!" Will whispered, voice hoarse and breaking slightly in its relief. He slumped against the bonnet of the car, the tension ebbing away from his entire body like a retreating tidal wave.

"Oh my God. Where are you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I'm at the restaurant, just about to start the evening service. I was just calling to reassure you? When I got here Philip told me he'd rung you after finding my phone outside my apartment block." Stupidly fell out of my bag when I was scrabbling about for my keys last night and I didn't notice it was missing until this afternoon," she chuckled. Will couldn't help thinking how alien was the sound given all the thoughts of her in danger over the course of the day. "Nearly sacked him on the spot for worrying you unnecessarily like that," she continued.

Will stayed silent, wondering what she was trying to pull. She'd never lied to him before, to the best of his knowledge, and to lie about something as monumental as being abducted…. Hannibal for his part, watched the exchange with his usual degree of burgeoning curiosity about the behaviour of lesser mortals.

"Amy," he said patiently. "You've been missing all day. You didn't turn up for the morning prep…"

He heard her take a slow breath, a breath he'd often heard before revelations of an uncomfortable or shocking nature were forthcoming. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you… about… the years with my father… and drugs…"

Will frowned. He knew a stall when he heard one. He didn't have to see her body language to sense the undertone. But he couldn't figure out her true motivation for withholding the truth just then.

"I'm coming to the restaurant. Evidently, we need to talk face-to-face."

Will had expected some resistance. "OK," she sighed. "But can you come towards the end of service? So we can talk properly? I'll reserve a table for you for 9.30. And bring Henrik, of course?"

Will looked up at Hannibal then, never unaware of the presence of the man. "I'm sure he'll appreciate the invitation," Will responded levelly.

"See you then, James." And the line went dead.

Hannibal looked questioningly at Will. "We appear to have a dinner invitation."

"Excellent," came Hannibal's reply. "I do enjoy being cooked for on occasion. Particularly if I am amongst the first to sample a new season menu," he stated, with the perpetual nonchalance he conveyed in all circumstances, as he climbed into the driver's seat. Was the man ever not in control?

Will climbed in next to him, closing his eyes and propping his head back on the rest behind him, a troubled look painted across his soft features. Hannibal reached across with a reassuring touch to the hand that lay on his thigh.

"Relax, William. Now, at least, you know she is safe and evidently unharmed."

Will gave him a sideways glance. "Yes. Though now, I'm beginning to wonder for the safety of others…"

Hannibal smiled to himself as he started up the engine. He had been impressed, but it appeared his admiration had been levelled in the wrong direction. Simone had not relocated his captive. She had escaped his obviously inept clutches. Audentes Fortuna Luvat, he thought to himself. Experience had taught Hannibal that lesson early on in his life teachings. And it appeared that Amy had also been a willing student of the many and varied lessons of which she had been recipient.

Strong you are indeed, Miss Raddison, he mused quietly to himself. The next generation of predatory gods walking amongst men might be more than even Hannibal Lecter bargained for.

It was a good time to be alive.