***yet again, it all belongs to T. Harris, etc.***
Truth or Dare
Part 4
I woke up feeling refreshed and desperately in need of a shower. My mouth felt like a jungle--I'd forgotten to brush last night before falling asleep. What time was it, anyway? I fumbled around at the bedside table, almost knocking off the lamp before pulling my watch close enough to read. 11:32am. The light from the open window reflected off the watch, momentarily blinding me. Wait a minute--OPEN window? I know it was closed last night, but the breeze assured me it was, indeed, open. I sat up quickly, blinking quickly and looking around the room. The first thing I noticed was a flower bouquet on the coffee table--red and white somethings. The slacks I'd left folded over a chair were gone. As were the shoes I'd kicked off the second I'd stepped in the room. WHAT was going on?
I knew, somehow, that he'd been in here, had left me the flowers and done whatever with my clothes. It wasn't someone on orders from him, he himself was in this room while I slept. The thought infuriated me. As I'm sure he knew it would. I glance at the door; the good doctor had even managed to re-lock the deadbolt and chain when he left. Well, I'm assuming that nothing he did will result in my immediate death, so I might as well get up.
I get up and walk over to the flowers. Crimson roses with baby's breath accents. How beautiful, if a bit cliche for the eccentric doctor. I'd expect foxglove or something more exotic. I bend over and smell them; it's heavenly. I notice an envelope, labelled 'Clarice' in his unmistakable hand, but I still feel too heavy from sleep to deal with it right now. I head towards the closet door and notice my suitcase is no longer in front of it. If that son of a bitch stole all my clothes, he better run fast and far. I open the closet, and to my surprise all my clothes hang neatly on hangers; the shelves contain my sweater, both pairs of jeans I packed, and my underclothes, all neatly folded. He went through my things! That bastard!! Somehow, the image of him touching my underwear nearly made me go for the gun sitting on the nightstand. I managed to get a grip before I destroyed something, though. After all, I theoretically know that he's already seen my underwear--somehow I had to have gotten from my bloodstained khakis into that dress, and while I trust that he was entirely in 'doctor' mode when he did it, it doesn't disturb me nearly as much as knowing he was here, unpacking for me. Maybe it's because that could be seen as a medical neccessity, while this is much more an intrusion--no, an attack--on my privacy. Oh well, I can't do anything about it right now, and I desperately need a shower. I grab a semi-casual change of clothes and head for the bathroom. Sure enough, all my toiletries are present and accounted for, as well as a bottle of perfume that just on looks I know I could never afford. I seethed inside again as I shut and locked the door. I decided on a shower instead of a bath, prefering to save that luxury for the evening.
After I've showered and brushed my teeth, I feel very, very much more human, and the curious-apprehensive emotion which is reserved entirely for dealings with Doctor Lecter overwhelming me about the note. I pad back into the main room, barefoot and with a towel draped over my shoulders to keep my wet hair from soaking my shirt and grab the note carefully as I sit down in one of the armchairs. Somehow I think I should be sitting, and far from my gun, when I read his latest mind-game.
My Dear Clarice,
How nice to see you arrived safe and sound. You appear to be sleeping very comfortably right now--the lambs must be silent. This is your first trip to Russia, isn't it? In fact, I think you've never been farther from dear old Appalachia in your life. Well, my dear, take this opportunity and obsorb some of the delightful feelings of freedom I've felt ever since I managed to escape your esteemed F.B.I. This is your chance as well, Clarice. Savor the air that does not demand you "protect" it so they can demote you. Moscow is beautiful, and I hope you take the time to notice that before the games begin.
I notice you failed to bring your dress as I asked you to. Such a pity. I suppose you have all afternoon to shop for a replacement, though. I'm quite curious to see what you select for yourself. How long has it been since you had an evening out, Clarice? It is a luxury no one should forgo for very long. Now, I have a few more preparations before the playing board is set, so I must depart. Sweet Dreams, Clarice.
Hannibal Lecter
I sat for a moment and puzzled over the note for several minutes. The most obvious curiousity is the lack of taunting. I have never had any kind of contact with Dr. Lecter, be it in person, by phone or by letter, which did not in some way involve him tormenting me. This letter, in stark contrast, sounds almost....caring. After several minutes, I decide he must have simply been too busy with his damn 'preparations' to take the time to destroy my soul. He obviously wrote the letter sitting right here. Or, he could simply be saving it all up for this horrible 'game.' I can already tell such a game will result in my soul being torn to tatters. Why did I embark on this mad crusade again? Oh yes, to stop this monster. This genius. This...whatever the hell he is.
The last part of his note kept sticking in my head. I can't help but feel he's left me a hint on what my next step should be. "An evening out," he said. Well, I know nothing about the high culture of Moscow, but it wouldn't surprise me if he means he's going to the ballet or the opera or whatever tonight and wants to see if I can find him. A little hide and seek, eh Doctor? Well, now that I've had my nap, I'm willing to play. Even though a voice in the back of my mind warns it my be the end of me.
I suddenly realize I'm feeling rather hungry. It's after noon now, and I haven't eaten since that fake airplane meal on the flight from Paris. I need to get out and make a few 'preparations' of my own if I'm to be ready for the opera or whatever tonight. I quickly dry my hair, throw on a pair of comfortable shoes and a jacket and start out the door. As I'm locking my door, I realize I forgot my phone and gun. I unlock the door and get them as well, placing them in my large purse. In the States I'd carry the weapon on my belt, but somehow that doesn't seem right here. I relock my door and head down to the lobby I barely remember passing through last night. I go up to the front desk and pray the elderly man speaks english as I think rapidly of the most subtle way to get the information I need.
"Excuse me, I was wondering where a good place would be for lunch near here." Let's start with the immediate and most urgent questions.
He looks at me and smiles. "Well, Ms. Starling, the deli around the corner is delicious, although if you're looking for a more American-style meal I would suggest the hotel restaurant." I'm momentarily taken aback that he, as well, knows my name. Did Doctor Lecter put out some kind of announcement on television before I got here? Just one more thing to ask him about when I finally do see him. If he hasn't killed me first. Or pushed me into insanity. With him, either is a possibility.
"Thank you. And I was thinking, it's been a while since I spent the evening out. Is there, by any chance, an opera I could go to? Maybe the ballet?" I mentally cross my fingers that it doesn't sound like an interrogation but merely an honest question. Although I suspect it really wouldn't matter, seeing as he already knew my name. Once more, he smiles, and I don't have to strain to follow his mildly accented English.
"Why yes, actually, there's an excellent ballet, and I believe tickets are still available. Would you like me to call and get you one?" This is just too easy.
"I'd appreciate that. Now, how do I get to the deli?" I listen carefully to his instructions, then leave to get some lunch. After that, shopping, just like the doctor suggested. I hadn't brought the dress, mostly because it seemed like one way of convincing myself that I was actually in control, that I wasn't just following a serial killer's orders like some kind of sheep. Looking back, I should have just brought it. Now I have to find something to wear to a ballet, in a strange city where I don't speak the language, before this evening, and try to think of a way to turn this whole mess to my advantage. Simply following his directions will not be enough for me to bring him in. Well, I can plan at lunch. I order something at the deli and sit down, hoping it tastes good and doesn't happen to be one of the Doctor's favorites.
Fin
Part 4
Truth or Dare
Part 4
I woke up feeling refreshed and desperately in need of a shower. My mouth felt like a jungle--I'd forgotten to brush last night before falling asleep. What time was it, anyway? I fumbled around at the bedside table, almost knocking off the lamp before pulling my watch close enough to read. 11:32am. The light from the open window reflected off the watch, momentarily blinding me. Wait a minute--OPEN window? I know it was closed last night, but the breeze assured me it was, indeed, open. I sat up quickly, blinking quickly and looking around the room. The first thing I noticed was a flower bouquet on the coffee table--red and white somethings. The slacks I'd left folded over a chair were gone. As were the shoes I'd kicked off the second I'd stepped in the room. WHAT was going on?
I knew, somehow, that he'd been in here, had left me the flowers and done whatever with my clothes. It wasn't someone on orders from him, he himself was in this room while I slept. The thought infuriated me. As I'm sure he knew it would. I glance at the door; the good doctor had even managed to re-lock the deadbolt and chain when he left. Well, I'm assuming that nothing he did will result in my immediate death, so I might as well get up.
I get up and walk over to the flowers. Crimson roses with baby's breath accents. How beautiful, if a bit cliche for the eccentric doctor. I'd expect foxglove or something more exotic. I bend over and smell them; it's heavenly. I notice an envelope, labelled 'Clarice' in his unmistakable hand, but I still feel too heavy from sleep to deal with it right now. I head towards the closet door and notice my suitcase is no longer in front of it. If that son of a bitch stole all my clothes, he better run fast and far. I open the closet, and to my surprise all my clothes hang neatly on hangers; the shelves contain my sweater, both pairs of jeans I packed, and my underclothes, all neatly folded. He went through my things! That bastard!! Somehow, the image of him touching my underwear nearly made me go for the gun sitting on the nightstand. I managed to get a grip before I destroyed something, though. After all, I theoretically know that he's already seen my underwear--somehow I had to have gotten from my bloodstained khakis into that dress, and while I trust that he was entirely in 'doctor' mode when he did it, it doesn't disturb me nearly as much as knowing he was here, unpacking for me. Maybe it's because that could be seen as a medical neccessity, while this is much more an intrusion--no, an attack--on my privacy. Oh well, I can't do anything about it right now, and I desperately need a shower. I grab a semi-casual change of clothes and head for the bathroom. Sure enough, all my toiletries are present and accounted for, as well as a bottle of perfume that just on looks I know I could never afford. I seethed inside again as I shut and locked the door. I decided on a shower instead of a bath, prefering to save that luxury for the evening.
After I've showered and brushed my teeth, I feel very, very much more human, and the curious-apprehensive emotion which is reserved entirely for dealings with Doctor Lecter overwhelming me about the note. I pad back into the main room, barefoot and with a towel draped over my shoulders to keep my wet hair from soaking my shirt and grab the note carefully as I sit down in one of the armchairs. Somehow I think I should be sitting, and far from my gun, when I read his latest mind-game.
My Dear Clarice,
How nice to see you arrived safe and sound. You appear to be sleeping very comfortably right now--the lambs must be silent. This is your first trip to Russia, isn't it? In fact, I think you've never been farther from dear old Appalachia in your life. Well, my dear, take this opportunity and obsorb some of the delightful feelings of freedom I've felt ever since I managed to escape your esteemed F.B.I. This is your chance as well, Clarice. Savor the air that does not demand you "protect" it so they can demote you. Moscow is beautiful, and I hope you take the time to notice that before the games begin.
I notice you failed to bring your dress as I asked you to. Such a pity. I suppose you have all afternoon to shop for a replacement, though. I'm quite curious to see what you select for yourself. How long has it been since you had an evening out, Clarice? It is a luxury no one should forgo for very long. Now, I have a few more preparations before the playing board is set, so I must depart. Sweet Dreams, Clarice.
Hannibal Lecter
I sat for a moment and puzzled over the note for several minutes. The most obvious curiousity is the lack of taunting. I have never had any kind of contact with Dr. Lecter, be it in person, by phone or by letter, which did not in some way involve him tormenting me. This letter, in stark contrast, sounds almost....caring. After several minutes, I decide he must have simply been too busy with his damn 'preparations' to take the time to destroy my soul. He obviously wrote the letter sitting right here. Or, he could simply be saving it all up for this horrible 'game.' I can already tell such a game will result in my soul being torn to tatters. Why did I embark on this mad crusade again? Oh yes, to stop this monster. This genius. This...whatever the hell he is.
The last part of his note kept sticking in my head. I can't help but feel he's left me a hint on what my next step should be. "An evening out," he said. Well, I know nothing about the high culture of Moscow, but it wouldn't surprise me if he means he's going to the ballet or the opera or whatever tonight and wants to see if I can find him. A little hide and seek, eh Doctor? Well, now that I've had my nap, I'm willing to play. Even though a voice in the back of my mind warns it my be the end of me.
I suddenly realize I'm feeling rather hungry. It's after noon now, and I haven't eaten since that fake airplane meal on the flight from Paris. I need to get out and make a few 'preparations' of my own if I'm to be ready for the opera or whatever tonight. I quickly dry my hair, throw on a pair of comfortable shoes and a jacket and start out the door. As I'm locking my door, I realize I forgot my phone and gun. I unlock the door and get them as well, placing them in my large purse. In the States I'd carry the weapon on my belt, but somehow that doesn't seem right here. I relock my door and head down to the lobby I barely remember passing through last night. I go up to the front desk and pray the elderly man speaks english as I think rapidly of the most subtle way to get the information I need.
"Excuse me, I was wondering where a good place would be for lunch near here." Let's start with the immediate and most urgent questions.
He looks at me and smiles. "Well, Ms. Starling, the deli around the corner is delicious, although if you're looking for a more American-style meal I would suggest the hotel restaurant." I'm momentarily taken aback that he, as well, knows my name. Did Doctor Lecter put out some kind of announcement on television before I got here? Just one more thing to ask him about when I finally do see him. If he hasn't killed me first. Or pushed me into insanity. With him, either is a possibility.
"Thank you. And I was thinking, it's been a while since I spent the evening out. Is there, by any chance, an opera I could go to? Maybe the ballet?" I mentally cross my fingers that it doesn't sound like an interrogation but merely an honest question. Although I suspect it really wouldn't matter, seeing as he already knew my name. Once more, he smiles, and I don't have to strain to follow his mildly accented English.
"Why yes, actually, there's an excellent ballet, and I believe tickets are still available. Would you like me to call and get you one?" This is just too easy.
"I'd appreciate that. Now, how do I get to the deli?" I listen carefully to his instructions, then leave to get some lunch. After that, shopping, just like the doctor suggested. I hadn't brought the dress, mostly because it seemed like one way of convincing myself that I was actually in control, that I wasn't just following a serial killer's orders like some kind of sheep. Looking back, I should have just brought it. Now I have to find something to wear to a ballet, in a strange city where I don't speak the language, before this evening, and try to think of a way to turn this whole mess to my advantage. Simply following his directions will not be enough for me to bring him in. Well, I can plan at lunch. I order something at the deli and sit down, hoping it tastes good and doesn't happen to be one of the Doctor's favorites.
Fin
Part 4