Chapter Thirty Seven – Plausible Deniability

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It was easy, so easy. Surely, it should have been more difficult, to commit treason?

Starling exited the interrogation booth and let the guards lead Mendez away. Adhering to her rules, he did not look back, or speak to her. She saw him cradling his jaw, more than was necessary, with the arm which held the magnetic strip in its sleeve. Hoping the guards did not get too rough with him, she made her way towards the elevator. She would wait ten minutes, until Mendez was back in his cell.

Making her way to the visitor's room, on the second floor, Starling located a vending machine. Pressing two quarters into the slot, she punched in the numbers for a coke and listened for the tell tale bump against the side of the machine. Her drink dropped into the tray. Starling removed the coke, popped it open and took a tentative sip.

Watching the clock on the far wall, she sipped and waited.

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Ten minutes later, she was hurrying back up the stairs, toward the supermax block.

"Hey, Roe!"

She waved at Jason Roe on the other side of the glass. He was seated in the guard's booth, settling down for the night with a comic – which he quickly hid at her approach.

"Starling? What you doing back here?"

"I forgot to leave one of the sheets – Mendez's copy of the final appeal. I swear, I'm losing it, some days." She laughed, light-heartedly. "Is it ok if I run them down now?"

Roe loitered, unsure. The other guard stood up and made his way over to the window.

"What's going on?"

"She needs to give Mendez papers."

"Don't they go to 'is lawyer, ma'am?"

"Usually, yeah, but this one refused his lawyer, back in the interview room." Starling panted, realistically out of breath, from her assent of the staircase. "Listen, I'm real sorry. I'd normally just give them to you guys, to hand over. I mean, I trust you, but rules are rules... ya know how it is?"

Roe looked to his companion.

"Fine." The older guard grunted. "Let her in. Pat her down."

"They did me before the interview. I just need to run it down. Here," she un-looped her bag from her shoulder and proffered it to the fat guard. Roe let her in, flashing his ID card across the keypad. "Take my bag. I've only got the papers. Won't be a second!"

They let her through.

So easy… it was so easy, thought Starling. Surely this should be harder?

"I'll walk you down." Roe offered.

Her heart sounded like a frantic drummer's beat.

"Sorry, it's gotta be just me and Mendez for the hand over. Legal shit." She used the explanation, for the second time that night. And, for the second time, it worked without a hitch. There was a reason that Jason Roe had become a security guard.

Starling knew she was banking on a whole lot of cards playing out in her favour, but her plan had worked so far. Okay, luck, she whispered to herself, just hold out for ten more minutes. She began to walk down the hall.

Where, usually, she was so observant, Starling's eyes now failed her. She hardly noticed the details of her surroundings. The walls were of indiscriminate colour; the floor a blank canvas for her footsteps. Her legs were carrying her to either her triumph or demise. Which was it to be? Starling did not know and her heart thundered at both prospects.

Halfway down the hall sat two cages, which held two very vital pieces of the puzzle. Hannibal Lecter sat in one. From her position, she could not yet see him, but she knew that he would be waiting for her – he had always known her footsteps. Newly reinstalled in the other cage, was Mendez. Mendez, Starling could see. And what she saw, written all across his face, was fear. She cursed that her plan – and her lover's freedom – relied so heavily upon an outside source, a person who she could not control. But that was the way it had to be.

Starling took another step, another step closer to the culmination of the past few months' events. Her back strained slightly. The child inside her was growing fast and her body was struggling to accommodate. Her spine ached by the end of each day. Starling hoped she would be able to hide her condition from Lecter. She would keep her secret for as long as possible – to minimise his pain.

Another step, walking quickly. She was now on front of Mendez's cell. From this position, Starling was acutely aware that she would be able to see into Lecter's cell. Should she turn her head to the left, she might be able to look directly at him. But she forced herself not to turn. The illusion of ignorance must be maintained. When the prison guards question her about to what happened here, she must be able to claim that she had no idea Lecter was being kept here. Plausible deniability.

Of course, in due course, the nature of her hand in Lecter's escape would become common knowledge. By then, however – Starling thought with a smile – they could be on the other side of the world. Just she and her lover... well, almost. Sometimes Starling had to remind herself that they would not be alone – just them two – for much longer.

Clarice Starling took another step towards Mendez. As long as she kept her cool her today, as long as she gave Mendez the keycard and made sure that no one saw, the escape would be possible. She just had to make it look like an accident. Give Mendez the real card and slip Security guard, Jason Roe, the fake. Slipping him the magnetic strip, earlier, had gone well. There was no reason that this should not go just as well.

To anyone who knew the truth – from an objective position, watching on high – the whole situation seemed ludicrously obvious. Wasn't Starling involved with both cases? Didn't she visit both prisoners, just weeks before their escape? To anyone who knew the truth, Starling would have appeared as guilty as hell. But the security guards did not know the truth.

Nobody did. Mapp, Vale, the FBI; all they saw was what they wanted to see. They saw what everyone saw when they looked at Lecter; a monster. They saw what everyone saw when they looked at Starling; a victim. And, for the first time, Starling was glad of it. The media - who had followed, knife to her back, throughout her whole career - would now turn her protector.

Click, click, click; the sound of Starling's heels on the cold prison floor. She was wearing good shoes this time.

Another step closer. Mendez was standing, rubbing his wrists, where his shackles had been. His forehead was wet with worry. Starling was glad that none of the guards were paying much attention to him. He looked so goddamn guilty. Sweet irony, thought Starling, as she approached the cell. He was the only innocent man in here.

"I've got your papers, Mendez. You've already signed. These are your copies."

He nodded, mutely. Perhaps, not trusting himself to talk aloud.

"Now, you're sure 'bout this? I'll repeat, for purposes of the tape."

And, indeed, she came bearing a recording device – wire and all. She had turned them on after the interrogation room. If this incident was ever brought up in a court of law, she could submit it for evidence, on her behalf. All anyone would hear was an FBI Agent serving some papers and getting temporarily distracted by a previous... associate. Nothing illegal.

"The FBI advised you against this action." Starling continued, her voice a purposefully bored drawl. "We recommend you let us give these papers to your attorney."

"No, Agent Starling, senorita. I'll take them, please."

"Suit yourself."

She moved to the drop box and made to drop the papers inside. Then, just as she was about to let go, Starling 'accidentally' dropped her pen.

"Oh shoot."

The moment seemed to hover, in slow motion. All Starling could focus on was the pen.

It was one of the cheap pens that the FBI provided in their, usually sparse, stationary cupboards. Clear plastic, with lines up the sides; blue, Starling was pretty sure of it, and with no lid. She had left the lid of purposefully, so that it would roll better. She needed it to roll right across the hall, so that she could follow it. She needed an excuse to cross from cell 304 to 207.

The pen did not disappoint. Jettisoned from Starling's hand, it fairly flew across the wide prison corridor, passing over the red line that ran down the middle, and landing well to the left. It skidded for a few feet, before coming to a halt, mere centimetres from Lecter's cage. There, it spun slowly on the spot.

Starling swore aloud again, and made a show of scrambling after the pen. She took great care not to look up until she reached the bars – after all, she was not to know whose cell this was. Someone called from the other end of the hall – she was pretty sure it was Jason Roe – to check that she was ok, and she yelled back to the affirmative.

"Yeah, jus' fine. Lost my damn pen."

The inmates down the hall, riled by the sudden movement, began the jibes and catcalls. Starling knew that their evening meal would have been postponed until her meeting with Mendez was finished. They were hungry and on edge. She would have to be careful. If they got too rowdy, the guards might see it fit to remove her from the block before her business here was attended to.

Starling, crouched uncomfortably over her pregnant abdomen, reached out for her pen. As her fingers closed around it, Starling tilted her face upwards, readying herself to show fake surprise. As it turned out, she didn't have to fake it.

"Christ!"

Starling gave a start and nearly whimpered aloud. Lecter was standing, no more than six inches away, leaning into the net that held him back from the bars. And his eyes were darker than she had seen them in years.

"Good evening, Clarice."

Soft, grating voice – all too familiar. It brought back some of the same emotions she had experienced during their first meeting in Baltimore, and some new ones. Starling scrambled upward, abandoning the pen.

"Doctor."

She barely managed to get his title out. It would all sound very convincing on the tape. She wasn't even having to act.

Now that she was looking at the cell front-on, Starling could see that, apart from Lecter, it was completely empty. All the standard-issue prison furniture had been removed. He had no mattress, no bed frame, no desk, and no chair. The legal documentation which he had been allowed to keep was also gone. No seat was fastened to the small metal toilet on the left hand wall, and the stainless steel mirror had been unscrewed from the concrete. Even his shoes had been taken. Apart from the net holding him back from the bars, Lecter was completely alone in the small room. He had never looked more like a caged animal.

Eyes feral, he tilted his head.

"Come a'visiting, Agent Starling?"

So cold. His voice was so cold towards her. She wasn't expecting a warm welcome, but the latent ager in him surprised her. He had shown no regret for his actions up until now. What had spurred this change of attitude? Or was it simply an act? She wished she could tell.

"I'm serving… papers." She swallowed audibly. "W-what happened to your things?"

"Confiscated" It was more a hiss than a word.

His eyes lowered to her abdomen, searching out the swell of her belly through the thin fabric of her shirt.

"You started to show very late. I admit, even I was fooled by your loose attire. I naively believed it was on FBI advice, to avoid... unwanted attention on my part. I do congratulate you, Clarice. When are you due?"

Act cold, Starling reminded herself.

"I don't think that's any of your business." She replied, voice clipped.

"There, our opinions differ."

And there is was; the crux of the matter.

I'm so sorry, H, Starling thought, to herself. I would have told you. I wanted to tell you. But I jus' couldn't risk it.

She kept her mouth shut. This had to be believable, for the tape. Keep talking – keep talking! Starling pushed herself back into conversation.

"You're not in my life any more, Dr Lecter."

"No, Clarice... you are quite alone." The emotionless tone hurt more than all the sarcasm he could have mustered.

Starling swallowed, choking out a retort.

"Not as alone as you'd want me to be, Doctor. I've got people around me."

"Ah... the indomitable Mapp, and her lapdog. Tell me, Clarice, which one sits and holds your hand at night, to protect you from the bad dreams?"

A snippet from her past; her father had used to sit up with her, all night, to chase away the nightmares.

"I guess you wouldn't understand about that." Starling forced a dry smile. "You like to be alone, don't you, doctor?"

His eyes glittered like black diamond.

"Oh, I don't know... I quite enjoyed your company, from time to time."

Pure Virginia. Mocking. Taunting.

Starling had thought it would be difficult to initiate an argument, or start a commotion. In reality, it sort of happened, of its own volition. Anger rose within her – resentment she did not even know she was holding, bubbled to the surface. How dare he bring up her purported rape and make her into the victim? How dare he insinuate that she had maliciously kept her pregnancy a secret from him?

"Don't you say that!"

She hated being the victim. He knew that, more than anyone. Her youth had been spent as the victim. She had worked so hard, tried so hard, to escape it. Now a victim was all people saw when they looked at her. Abducted, raped, held captive; the pity in their eyes was sometimes more than she could take. And as for the pregnancy - she had no other choice but to keep it from him! It was the only way of ensuring he did not deviate from his plan. Though she did not think that hearing of her condition would change his mind, it was the only way of ensuring that he remained incarcerated here, in the supermax block of the MCAC – the only place where she could get him out. She would have never held the information back out of malice.

"Do you have any idea how much I hate all this?" she spat. The anger in her voice was real.

Lecter opened his mouth, but Starling pushed on.

"No, don't try and use any of your psychoanalytical bullshit on me, Doctor, don't you dare!"

Her voice rung down the hall. In the distance, she heard guards fumbling with keycards and guns – shouting, and making their way towards them. They had finally realised that she was in distress, and were hastening to her rescue.

Starling's heart rate elevated further. She would have to be calm to ensure her success now. And quick.

Rage being a passionate emotion, it dwindled almost as quickly as it had risen within Starling's breast. Her angers were valid enough, but she was wrong to bring them up now. Once he was free, they could discuss what had happened these past few months. For now, she had to be cool. She had to be in control. Starling stowed her emotions but kept the outward manifestations. Slipping something from her jacket pocket, she took a breath and stepped up to the bars. The metal was cold against her palm as she gripped it, wrapping her fingers tightly.

"You know what. I hope you rot in here. It's like you said, back in Milan... some birds are meant to be caged."

Quicker than she could perceive it, Lecter had close the gap between them, thrusting one hand through the net to grasp hers against the bar. His grip was numbingly tight, and Starling instinctively gasped and recoiled in pain.

"What did you say, Clarice?"

The guards were almost upon them, shouting madly now, and brandishing weapons.

Lecter's eyes bored into hers, searching.

It's like you said, back in Milan... his elegant mind had to pick up on what she meant, it had to! A conversation, held back in the early days of their relationship – masking a secret message. Come on, H, come on... give me some sign, thought Starling, allowing herself one moment to meet his gaze. Only a moment, and then she had to go.

The guards were so close that Starling could smell the old spice.

Just a moment, then;

"Let me go." She cried, pulling back.

With an almighty tug, Starling wrenched her hand free from under his. As her fingers slipped free, his tightened around the bar, and the token she had left there, flattened against the metal – a token to compound the meaning of her message. His eyes flickered from his hand to hers, then to the guards, as they descended like a pack of dogs. He withdrew his hand, taking what Starling had left into the palm of it. Fisting both hands, he placed them upon his head and took a step back from the bars, eyes dancing across the faces of the guards – all armed but reluctant to get any closer, even to reprimand the cannibal.

Starling, meanwhile, was stumbling backwards, propelling herself away from Hannibal Lecter and towards the bars of Mendez's cage. Her fast, shallow breaths attracted security guard Jason Roe, who rushed to her side. Starling threw her arms around him, feigning hysterics. It felt uncomfortable – she was not used to such physical closeness – but it was essential for the plan. She needed to move Roe, to fall against Mendez's cage, while the other guards were distracted with Lecter.

Starling pretended to lose her footing, pushing Roe into the bars, as if by accident. On cue, Mendez slipped forwards and deftly removed Roe's keycard from its holder on his belt. With her head on Roe's shoulder, Starling held her breath, watching Mendez's hand slip the card free. It seemed to happen in slow motion, but the security guard didn't notice. He didn't even twitch. Mendez retreated into the darkness of his cell, slipping the keycard into his pockets.

Now it was her turn.

Carefully, Starling allowed the card she had secreted up her jacket pocket to slide down into her palm. It was a clone card – a fake copy of the real ID card that she had allowed Mendez to steal. Starling dropped it delicately over Roe's shoulder. It fell to the concrete ground with a clatter. To Starling, it sounded like an anvil dropping, but the guards didn't turn. They were too busy shouting Lecter to the back of his cell. Starling breathed a sigh of relief. For the moment, at least, she was in the clear.

Roe had fallen to patting her back. Starling cleared her throat and pulled away. Across the hall, the other guards was still at Lecter's door, stun gun extended. Inside the cell, Lecter had moved to the back wall; his hands still on his head, eyes still fixed on Starling.

From the softer darkness in his gaze, she guessed that he had got her message.

"Clarice, ya ok?"

Her attention turned back to Roe.

"I'm fine." She stumbled upright, detaching herself from Roe's grasp. "But I need to get out of here."

Taking another wobbly step, she grabbed the manila folder of papers and dumped it into Mendez's drop-box.

"I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have gone near the bars. I just, I dropped my pen, and I-I completely forgot..."

"Excuse me, Agent Starling." Lecter's voice permeated every nerve fibre in her body.

She looked over as the fat guard erupted again.

"Shuttit, you."

"C'mon, Clarice." Roe tried to steer her away.

"Your pen?" the Doctor turned to the fat security guard. "If you would be so kind, gentlemen."

Begrudgingly, the fat security guard seized Starling's pen and walked it to her. Starling thanked him, her eyes still on Lecter.

"I'm sorry 'bout this." The fat security guard grumbled, bad naturedly. "He's been acting up all day. Trashed the cell earlier. Had to remove everything."

Starling nodded, mutely.

"You ok? You're real pale, Clarice. We'll get you to the visitin' room an' have ya sit down for a while."

"Does she need a doctor?"

"I'm fine." Starling cut in.

She had always hated being fussed over, and the attentions of Jason Roe were beginning to get on her nerves. She knew he was just trying to help, but she was sick of pretending. She needed to be alone and she didn't need to keep Roe sweet any more. His role in her plan was over. Mendez had the keycard.

"Maybe you should get to the hospital, ma'am," the old, fat guard chipped in, "get checked out. You can't be too careful, given your condition."

Starling bit back a retort, about her waistline being smaller than his, and nodded again.

"I'll see to it after I get home."

"I can give you a ride-." Roe plied hopefully.

"I've got friends who can take me." She hadn't meant the words to come off as so clipped and icy, but they had the desired effect.

Roe retracted the hand he had placed on her shoulder.

"Uh, ok. I'll see you down to reception then." He mumbled, staring at his shoes.

"Thanks."

Starling glanced behind Roe to the card she had dropped over his shoulder, whilst he was holding her, at cell 304's bars.

The card on the floor was a clone of the card which Mendez had stolen – in appearance, at least. This clone card wouldn't work. The magnetic bar at the bottom was purposefully scratched out, to hide the fact that it was blank. When Roe found out that this new card didn't open the doors, he would take it to the technicians, who would say it was damaged and issue him with a new one. Mendez would keep the original card secreted in his cell.

Pausing on the way out of the block, Starling set the final scene in today's act. To avoid strip searches of the inmate's cells, Roe must not report his card missing.

"Hey, Roe. You dropped something."

He glanced back.

"Thanks, Agent Starling, It's my damn keycard too – would've been stuck in here all night."

He walked back over and picked it up, fastening it into the clip. It was stiff and refused to conform to the place where the old card had sat easily. Roe frowned. For a moment, Starling thought he was suspicious and then her fears were allayed.

"Damn thing must have got bent when I dropped it."

"Tech already replaced the thing twice for him." The fat guard rolled his eyes. "Come this way, ma'am. We'll have Roe take you out to your car – make sure you're really okay."

Starling smiled politely and nodded. Inside she was feeling slightly elated. Everything had worked out to plan. By the time Mendez had a chance to use the card, it wouldn't matter that Roe still had his card on him. It would remain a mystery how Mendez managed to clone the card from within his prison cell. They only kept the tapes from the supermax block for three weeks. There would be no way of proving that Starling had switched the cards.

"Listen, guys. I'm real sorry to cause such a commotion up here. I don't wanna make your job any more difficult than it already is." She extended a hand. "I'm real thankful for your help back there – all of your help" she addressed the fat guard too, who dipped his head to her. "I'd better get back home and get sat down."

Go on, play the pregnant woman card... you know you want to.

Starling placed her hand over her belly, and pulled a wan smile.

"Shouldn't really be pullin' long shifts in my condition, anyway."

They flurried to help her out the door and down to reception. Starling even got to witness the moment when Jason Roe realised his keycard wasn't working – in the elevator on the way down. The fat security guard took Starling down instead; waddling her to the reception, where he helped her sign out and reclaim her firearm. As she left the building, he raised one pudgy hand in farewell. Starling mirrored his a little wave.

"See you around, Agent."

"Thanks, sir."

And that was it. Simple.

Clarice Starling had just committed fraud and treason. She had passed restricted goods to a prisoner on super-maximum security in a state penitentiary, which would go on to aid the escape of two death row inmates. She had just signed the death warrant on her career. And she hadn't felt as good about anything in a long time.

Starling smiled, and walked to her car, a spring in her step.

Not so long, now, to go