Authors: Rube and Mischa
Clarice turned the wrapping of the present over and over in her hands, hoping to God that
it wasn't what she thought it was. Terrified that it would be, she had been sitting here, like
this, for the last hour and twelve minutes. Finally exhausted with herself, she tore into the
package, and out spilled it's contents.
A neatly folded note, a bottle of Chianti, a jar of Fava Beans, (a cruel joke of Lecter's, she was
sure, but nevertheless, she laughed), and a postcard of the Hotel Beacci Tornabuoni. Her heart
thumped loudly; how on earth did he know to send the card? Was he in Florence, as the postmarkings
and card suggested? She checked the copyright date on the postcard; 2001, so he couldn't have bought
it when he was there with Alicia. Jealousy burned red behind Clarice's eyes at the thought of the woman's
name. Clarice couldn't, or wouldn't, figure out why that emotion was the one she felt.
Scouring her hand over the gift, she finally picked up the note, not bothering with gloves. Her hands shook
very little when she opened it.
"Clarice,
Hello again, Little Agent Starling. I expect that you are surprised at this letter? No need to answer that,
my dear, I have a feeling you are alone, in your house. Just pop open the bottle of the wine, and savor a
glass with me, will you do that? I'll give you the proper time."
Clarice couldn't believe it as her body propelled itself into the kitchen for a wine glass. She pulled open her
glass cabinet, and, reaching in, she pulled out a glass with the Coca-Cola emblem on it. Chastising her
tackiness, she walked back into the bedroom. Her hands had completely stopped shaking now.
"You're back. Good. Now, open the bottle, lifting the cork up slowly. You don't want anything to be damaged,
and I've found that the anticipation is rather exciting. Now, fill the glass halfway. Doesn't the sound of the two
different glasses clinking relax you, like a somewhat calm waterfall? Lift the glass up to your nose, and inhale
the scent. The wine is rather aged, isn't it? It is best that way, though some wine-collecters would argue that.
Do you have in your Compact Disk collection, any classical music? If so, any Mozart will suffice, but if you
have Gymnopedie by Satie, that would be great. If not, then just put on your soft rock station. No, I'm not trying
to 'get you into the mood', but, rather, am trying to give you a clear picture of my life, now that I am free.
I imagine that last sentence infuriated you to some degree, did it not? One would think so. I can also bet
that you hold yourself partially responsible for my escape. If you had not made that Island scam, I would probably
still be in custody, and Doctor Chilton would still be alive. I think you are at least a little pleased at his demise, though.
Let's get back to the subject at hand, shall we? Drink the glass. This isn't a shot of whiskey, Clarice, so take your
time with it. Let it's flavor engulf your senses. Enough of that. Let's get down to business, as they say.
Kent Simone. I think that the name rings a bell?"
Clarice nodded to herself, thinking of her conversation with Alicia. Lecter had stayed at the hotel under that name.
"I'm sure it does, Clarice. Are your hands clutching the page of this letter, Starling? I'm sure you'll
be relieved, (or should I say enlightened?) to know that this is the name of my last...er, patient. You and
your fellow Agents will classify it as victim or 'poor son of a bitch,' won't you?
I'm afraid that I've written all that care to, for the moment. I'll see you soon?
Ta-
Your Hannibal"
Clarice stumbled to the phone, but she shocked herself by not dialing Jack's number. Instead, Barney
answered the phone with a gruff 'hello'.
"Hi, Barney. It's uh, it's Clarice Starling here."
"Hello Clarice."
"I'm sorry for bothering you again, but-"
"It's no problem."
"Uh huh. Okay, well, I went to see Alicia Smith."
"You did? How did that go?"
"Good, it went good. She gave me some useful information."
"That's good."
There was a silence from both ends. Clarice was the one who broke it.
"Barney, he wrote to me."
"Oh God." Something on the other line rustled. "What did he say?"
"He sent me some Chianti and fava beans." A snort from Barney. "He said he
wanted me to get a picture of his life, now that he is free."
"Sounds like Lecter, all right. What else?"
"He mentioned the Plumb Island scam."
"What exactly did he say?"
"'If you had not made that Island scam, I would probably still be in custody, and Doctor
Chilton would still be alive.' I think he was really mad at me for that scam."
Barney cleared his throat, but didn't say anything.
"What?"
"Clarice, he knew about the scam. We talked about it."
"What!?" Clarice nearly dropped the phone.
"He knew. He said that you were far too confidant to be telling the truth. He said that
your voice betrayed you. He didn't seem at all angry. He never was angry, oddly, considering
your probing. Never angry at you in general."
"Barney, do you think that Doctor Lecter LIKED me?" Her voice was disbelieving.
"Honestly, Clarice? Yes, I do."
"But...but, I..."
"He was always excited to hear that you were coming. He never took the F.B.I. seriously,
you know. Attacked them verbally, then just laid back down. You, he talked to me about.
I thought it was odd, but it makes more sense now."
"What makes sense now?"
"Clarice, he wants you to track him. To follow him. You fascinate him. He's surprised by you.
No one I've heard of has done that."
"What should I DO, Barney? I don't know what to do." Her voice sounded desperate, even to
her own ears.
"I think you should go to Florence. Try to find him. If you can't do that, investigate the
other killings from the supposed copycat. You'll find him, I know you will."
Clarice noted that Barney didn't say 'catch,' but 'find'.
"Thank you, Barney."
"You're welcome, Clarice."
They hung up with no further words. Clarice stared at the wall in stunned silence.
Clarice turned the wrapping of the present over and over in her hands, hoping to God that
it wasn't what she thought it was. Terrified that it would be, she had been sitting here, like
this, for the last hour and twelve minutes. Finally exhausted with herself, she tore into the
package, and out spilled it's contents.
A neatly folded note, a bottle of Chianti, a jar of Fava Beans, (a cruel joke of Lecter's, she was
sure, but nevertheless, she laughed), and a postcard of the Hotel Beacci Tornabuoni. Her heart
thumped loudly; how on earth did he know to send the card? Was he in Florence, as the postmarkings
and card suggested? She checked the copyright date on the postcard; 2001, so he couldn't have bought
it when he was there with Alicia. Jealousy burned red behind Clarice's eyes at the thought of the woman's
name. Clarice couldn't, or wouldn't, figure out why that emotion was the one she felt.
Scouring her hand over the gift, she finally picked up the note, not bothering with gloves. Her hands shook
very little when she opened it.
"Clarice,
Hello again, Little Agent Starling. I expect that you are surprised at this letter? No need to answer that,
my dear, I have a feeling you are alone, in your house. Just pop open the bottle of the wine, and savor a
glass with me, will you do that? I'll give you the proper time."
Clarice couldn't believe it as her body propelled itself into the kitchen for a wine glass. She pulled open her
glass cabinet, and, reaching in, she pulled out a glass with the Coca-Cola emblem on it. Chastising her
tackiness, she walked back into the bedroom. Her hands had completely stopped shaking now.
"You're back. Good. Now, open the bottle, lifting the cork up slowly. You don't want anything to be damaged,
and I've found that the anticipation is rather exciting. Now, fill the glass halfway. Doesn't the sound of the two
different glasses clinking relax you, like a somewhat calm waterfall? Lift the glass up to your nose, and inhale
the scent. The wine is rather aged, isn't it? It is best that way, though some wine-collecters would argue that.
Do you have in your Compact Disk collection, any classical music? If so, any Mozart will suffice, but if you
have Gymnopedie by Satie, that would be great. If not, then just put on your soft rock station. No, I'm not trying
to 'get you into the mood', but, rather, am trying to give you a clear picture of my life, now that I am free.
I imagine that last sentence infuriated you to some degree, did it not? One would think so. I can also bet
that you hold yourself partially responsible for my escape. If you had not made that Island scam, I would probably
still be in custody, and Doctor Chilton would still be alive. I think you are at least a little pleased at his demise, though.
Let's get back to the subject at hand, shall we? Drink the glass. This isn't a shot of whiskey, Clarice, so take your
time with it. Let it's flavor engulf your senses. Enough of that. Let's get down to business, as they say.
Kent Simone. I think that the name rings a bell?"
Clarice nodded to herself, thinking of her conversation with Alicia. Lecter had stayed at the hotel under that name.
"I'm sure it does, Clarice. Are your hands clutching the page of this letter, Starling? I'm sure you'll
be relieved, (or should I say enlightened?) to know that this is the name of my last...er, patient. You and
your fellow Agents will classify it as victim or 'poor son of a bitch,' won't you?
I'm afraid that I've written all that care to, for the moment. I'll see you soon?
Ta-
Your Hannibal"
Clarice stumbled to the phone, but she shocked herself by not dialing Jack's number. Instead, Barney
answered the phone with a gruff 'hello'.
"Hi, Barney. It's uh, it's Clarice Starling here."
"Hello Clarice."
"I'm sorry for bothering you again, but-"
"It's no problem."
"Uh huh. Okay, well, I went to see Alicia Smith."
"You did? How did that go?"
"Good, it went good. She gave me some useful information."
"That's good."
There was a silence from both ends. Clarice was the one who broke it.
"Barney, he wrote to me."
"Oh God." Something on the other line rustled. "What did he say?"
"He sent me some Chianti and fava beans." A snort from Barney. "He said he
wanted me to get a picture of his life, now that he is free."
"Sounds like Lecter, all right. What else?"
"He mentioned the Plumb Island scam."
"What exactly did he say?"
"'If you had not made that Island scam, I would probably still be in custody, and Doctor
Chilton would still be alive.' I think he was really mad at me for that scam."
Barney cleared his throat, but didn't say anything.
"What?"
"Clarice, he knew about the scam. We talked about it."
"What!?" Clarice nearly dropped the phone.
"He knew. He said that you were far too confidant to be telling the truth. He said that
your voice betrayed you. He didn't seem at all angry. He never was angry, oddly, considering
your probing. Never angry at you in general."
"Barney, do you think that Doctor Lecter LIKED me?" Her voice was disbelieving.
"Honestly, Clarice? Yes, I do."
"But...but, I..."
"He was always excited to hear that you were coming. He never took the F.B.I. seriously,
you know. Attacked them verbally, then just laid back down. You, he talked to me about.
I thought it was odd, but it makes more sense now."
"What makes sense now?"
"Clarice, he wants you to track him. To follow him. You fascinate him. He's surprised by you.
No one I've heard of has done that."
"What should I DO, Barney? I don't know what to do." Her voice sounded desperate, even to
her own ears.
"I think you should go to Florence. Try to find him. If you can't do that, investigate the
other killings from the supposed copycat. You'll find him, I know you will."
Clarice noted that Barney didn't say 'catch,' but 'find'.
"Thank you, Barney."
"You're welcome, Clarice."
They hung up with no further words. Clarice stared at the wall in stunned silence.