Susana Alvarez Lecter was airlifted to Wheeling Hospital and was examined and determined to be in critical condition. She was rushed into emergency surgery, where she remained for several hours. She had suffered massive internal bleeding, and the prognosis did not look good.
Nonetheless, she had points in her favor. She was young and strong. She was still breathing, and the surgeons were able to repair her damaged lung. Once they began transfusions, she rallied. After seven hours and as many bleeding organs repaired, the surgical team had done all they could do. Susana remained unconscious and was transferred to the intensive care unit.
In Washington, Chicago, and Baltimore, the engines of law enforcement sat waiting to see if they would be needed, or if fate herself would punish Susana in a means they could only dream of. The hospital had standing orders to contact Section Chief Ardelia Mapp the minute Susana Alvarez regained consciousness.
At Quantico and Arlington, Ardelia Mapp could not sleep. Over and over, when she closed her eyes, she heard the sounds of the truck striking Susana's body and saw the blood creeping out from under her head. At work, her profilers saw her bloodshot eyes and haunted demeanor and said nothing. She jumped every time the phone rang and snapped at some of her workers.
Three days after the accident, Susana complicated things for a large group of people employed in various government capacities. She did so by opening her eyes, trying to sit up, and asking where she was. In so doing, she caused many closed-door meetings and phone calls to take place.
The police agencies – the FBI and the Chicago Police Department – were out for blood and wanted Susana in custody immediately and on trial as soon as possible. The district attorneys for the areas took one look at what the police had – there was no hard proof that Susana Alvarez had even been in Chicago, as well as no witnesses, DNA, or fingerprint evidence – and turned gray. The FBI and Chicago PD said that one should not get away with killing police officers. The D.A.'s pointed out that if she was found not guilty, she would get away with it as well, and told the police to go back and come back with more evidence. They also desperately wanted this kept out of the press. Neither DA liked the idea of having their picture above an article describing how they were pulling a critically injured woman out of the hospital and into the courtroom.
For the time being, Susana remained in the intensive care unit of Wheeling Hospital. She was told that she remained under arrest and was read her rights. A West Virginia state trooper was detailed to her room in plainclothes to ensure she did not attempt escape. He soon learned that this was not likely. Susana was able to walk, but only at a slow, painful hobble. She preferred to stay in her room, anyway.
The Cook County DA and USDA for Baltimore eventually concluded that conviction based on what they had was unlikely, and even if they did, the chance for reversal on appeal was high. All that the FBI had managed to prove was that Susana was the daughter of Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling, which was not illegal under either federal law or the laws of Illinois. They decided to charge her with the kidnapping of Barney and hoped like hell that she would cut a deal. As far as they knew, Susana had not yet hired an attorney. Thank God for small favors.
Ardelia Mapp volunteered to bring the deal to Wheeling. The DA's believed this to be a great idea, thinking that the FBI's chief mindhunter would be the perfect person to wangle a confession out of Susana along with a deal for the LECCOPY murders. They did not realize that Ardelia had her own agenda.
As Ardelia drove out towards Wheeling, she pondered for a moment. Why was she doing this?
To assuage her conscience, she admitted to herself. She had never intended for this to happen. And it was her operation that had caused it. She could point out to herself that Susana had chosen to flee, but she knew better. She should have made sure there were a few young cops on the squad, young men or women who could have caught her quicker.
Also, she admitted, there was something darker. She needed to know about Clarice, even after all these years. Susana was the only one who could give her that information. What price she was willing to pay she did not know. She knew she would not let Susana go free, but there was a vast gray area she was afraid to ponder.
At the hospital, she saw the plainclothes trooper at the door of Susana's room. As he realized she intended to enter, he stood up and flashed his badge.
"This is a private room, ma'am," he said abruptly. His speech was colored with a thick West Virginia accent that made her ache for Starling.
Ardelia flashed her own ID at him. "I know. Ardelia Mapp, FBI. I'm here to interrogate her."
"No one called me," he said.
Ardelia grinned uncomfortably. "This is…how can I put it…in regards to a deal."
The trooper took a moment to process that and then nodded. "On the Q.T."
"You got it."
"Well, have at it, then. She's awake."
Ardelia frowned. "I'd like to take her somewhere else, if you don't mind," he said.
"There's a lounge for family and visitors that's big and usually pretty empty. You can take her there if you sign for her."
"That'll do, I guess."
"All righty then." The trooper produced a clipboard and a pair of handcuffs. "Sign here, just put 'interrogation', and we'll have ourselves a transfer. Bring her back when you're done."
Ardelia looked surprised at the sight of the restraints. "You put her in cuffs?"
"Yes, ma'am. She's under arrest." He shrugged. "I don't put them on her when she's in the room. She's minded her manners so far."
"Also, I'd appreciate it if you didn't disclose this to anyone."
"Okay," he said.
"I mean it. It's very important."
"Ma'am," he said, "how bout you have another look at my ID?" He showed her obligingly. His ID and badge indicated he was a captain.
"I am aware of how politics works, Chief," he said, grinning. "I'll keep your secret."
"So can I see her?"
"Sure," he said. "Let me get her." He opened the door to the room and stuck his head inside. Ardelia heard him ask if she was awake, and then told her to come to the door. A female voice replied, faintly. Ardelia's knees trembled.
She was certainly grateful to hear it. Despite it all, Ardelia did not want the death of Clarice's daughter on her hands. Part of her reason for coming was to assuage her conscience for the arrest gone so horribly wrong.
Susana Alvarez Lecter shuffled to the door. She wore only a hospital johnny and seemed strained with the effort. She looked pale and wan. Her face was thankfully unmarked, although her abdomen was heavily bandaged. The johnny bagged open at her arm and Ardelia could see a large black and blue mark beginning at her ribcage. In one hand she wheeled her IV pole with her.
"Why can't they just question me in here?" she asked her guard. Then she saw Ardelia and her eyes went wide for just a moment. Then her face closed up entirely.
"It'll do you some good to get out and about," the trooper said. "Now come on. You know the drill." Susana complied, putting her hands behind her back without complaint. The trooper cuffed her quickly, put her IV pole into one of her hands, and gestured to Ardelia.
"Go on now," he said. "She's all yours."
Ardelia shook her head. She held out a hand.
"Here, let me take that pole for you," she said. Susana said nothing, but let her take it. She accompanied Ardelia through the hall without a word. Ardelia noted with some guilt how slowly she was walking. A few people stopped and stared, unaccustomed to seeing a patient in the ICU in cuffs. Susana did not seem to mind. She walked with her head slightly down, as if the effort of walking took up most of her resources.
She saw the lounge up ahead. As he had said, it was a large room with tables for visitors and family to wait in. There was only a few people seated around one table. Ardelia decided that it would work. She gestured to a nearby table, far away from the other occupied table. Before Susana sat down, Ardelia gave her a friendly look.
"I'll take those off you if you behave," she said breezily. Susana was dangerous, but too badly injured to put up a ruckus. It would make for a good opener.
Susana took a moment before answering. "Yes, thank you."
Ardelia slid her own key into the cuffs and removed them. Susana sat, looking warily at her. She rubbed her wrists and frowned at the red lines the cuffs had left.
"You look good," Ardelia said. "We were worried about you."
"Worried about the Board of Inquiry you'd have to face for killing your suspect, you mean?" Susana's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"I didn't tell you to run, Susana. Besides, I'm your friend. I'd like to help you."
Susana tilted her head. Ardelia found herself troubled by Susana's maroon eyes and direct look. It reminded her far too much of Dr. Lecter. She found herself wondering if Susana possessed a sixth finger. Her eyes flicked off Susana's for a moment and down to her left hand on the table. It was normal.
Susana grinned and raised her hand, revolving it to show the palm. "Looking for this?" she said. Between her middle and ring fingers was a barely visible scar. "They removed it when I was an infant." She flexed her hand. "Barely shows. Good work, don't you think?"
"Yes," Ardelia said neutrally, trying not to show Susana that she had scored a point. "Now how about getting back to me helping you?"
"Help me? What could you possibly do to help me?" Susana asked.
Ardelia leaned forward. "Susana, we know you kidnapped Barney. And we know about Chicago."
"Chicago? What about it?"
"The three Tattler reporters, four Chicago police officers, and FBI agent you killed there."
Susana was silent for a long time. "You're crazy," she said. "I've never even been to Chicago. I was in DC. Except for visiting my grandfather's grave, which is apparently a crime."
"We know you were in Chicago." Ardelia gave her a hard look, trying to suggest that lying would do no good.
"How?" Susana's eyes were wide with surprise. "Whatever you got, you're wrong. I've been in DC all this time. What makes you think I was in Chicago?"
"That's our secret." Ardelia folded her arms and gave Susana a smug look.
"You'll have to tell me at the trial," Susana pointed out. "Secret evidence doesn't cut it. This isn't Brazil." She crossed her arms and leaned back.
"Susana, if you go to trial, you'll get the needle. Four cops are dead. They'll put you on death row for that."
"I'm from Argentina," Susana said, "but I could have sworn I read something about 'innocent until proven guilty' in American law. Maybe they got it wrong when they translated it into Spanish."
"We can prove you guilty," Ardelia said. "You want to risk your life, go ahead. And as long as we're on the subject of that, how's your family in Argentina? Your mom and dad, I mean."
Susana stopped and shook her head deliberately. "I'm not talking about that."
Ardelia shook her head in disapproval. "You're not in a position to pick what you'll talk about and what you won't. If you don't get the needle, you'll spend the rest of your life in prison. If you work with us, we can work with you. Chicago PD is baying for your blood, Susana. They want you bad. But the FBI can protect you, if you let us."
…
The trooper sat in his chair, waiting for the FBI agent to come back with Susana. He knew that he had been charged with kidnapping. He also knew there was talk about some murders in Chicago. Sounded like they didn't have any evidence on her, though, or she would've been out of here quick.
He had been picked for his ability to keep his mouth shut. And he didn't mind. The governor himself had told the trooper that if he did this little favor for the governor, he could count on a promotion in the near future. Possibly even the top spot, as the current head of the state police was due to retire soon.
And Susana was not a difficult prisoner. Far from it. Most prisoners were belligerent and nasty. They spat on you and cursed and yelled, as if that would change a blessed thing. Susana had been polite to a fault and was compliant when he told her what to do. As he had told her when she regained consciousness, he would treat her as well as she treated him. So far, he didn't think this was bad duty at all. Even though at times he felt like a babysitter.
An older woman in a business suit came up to him.
"Excuse me," she said with a heavy Spanish accent. "Is this the room of Susana Alvarez?"
"Yes ma'am, it is. She's not here right now."
"My name is Luisa Sanchez. I am with the Argentinian embassy. I would like to see her."
The trooper had been prepared for this. As a foreign citizen, Susana had the right to contact her embassy. As he had been instructed, he did not argue.
"She's with an FBI agent right now," he said. "If you'd like to wait, ma'am, she'll be back in a few."
"Do you know how long she will be?"
"I'm not sure, ma'am. You're more than welcome to have a seat. Or you can get some coffee at the vending machine down the hall. It's not too bad if you put extra sugar in it."
"Thank you," she said. "I will come back."
"As soon as she's back, I'll let you see her," he promised.
The woman left, her heels clicking up the hallway. The trooper sighed. He never saw the woman again.
…
Ardelia was not happy with how things were going. After an hour of cajoling, arguing, and outright threatening, she had zippo to show for it. And she didn't think it would get better anytime soon. She had the sickening feeling that Susana knew that the case against her was very weak.
Susana did not seem frightened of what might happen to her. She had dared Ardelia to try her on a few occasions. Ardelia wasn't lying about the Chicago police department – they did want Susana in a Chicago courtroom, as soon as they possibly could. It was the Chicago DA who was pressing for a deal.
"Look," Ardelia tried again, "think of how it's going to play for a jury. You're Lecter's daughter. All of a sudden, three murders take place, two copycatting Lecter murders. All three were Tattler reporters who wrote about Lecter. Dr. Lecter's old guard ends up kidnapped and stuck in his old cell a week later. And ever so conveniently, you entered this country three days before the first murder."
"I was in DC," Susana replied for the tenth time. "That's what my plane tickets said. And I've never met Barney. I've heard about him, though. He must've really let himself go, if some girl like me managed to overpower him."
"Where was your hotel?" Ardelia decided it was time to quit letting Susana get in these little digs. Poking a few holes in her story might do the trick, or at least get Ardelia up on the psychological scoreboard.
"I didn't have a reservation. I was trying to save some money. Youth hostels and such." Susana shrugged, looking like a perfectly innocent student.
"And if we check the hostels, are we going to find you stayed there? I don't think so, Susana."
"Here and there. A few cheap hotels, where you pay cash. They didn't ask me to sign anything." She leaned sideways in her chair and threw a leg over the armrest nonchalantly.
"Sure, Susana. Think a jury will buy that? You think we don't know you? You're just like your dad, Susana. You wouldn't stay in a cheap hotel. So fine. No deal, you go to trial. Enjoy death row."
"If you had all this proof, you wouldn't be offering me a deal. Just confess to all these crimes because of who your father is, and we'll just lock you in jail for the rest of your life instead of killing you. If not, we'll kill you. Sure. Go ahead then. Try it." She gave Ardelia a smirk. "You know, maybe I should call a lawyer and end this now,…"
"We may have to," Ardelia promised grimly. "You want a lawyer? Fine. I'll take you back to your room and let you make the call. We can do this the hard way."
"The embassy's handling that for me," Susana said breezily, as if it was a minor visa matter. "I called them this morning, before you got here."
Ardelia's mouth twitched, but she tried not to show surprise. If Susana had called her embassy, the likelihood of a backroom deal had just dropped tremendously. Not with the Argentine ambassador poking his nose in.
"You called them, huh? Sounds like you knew something was wrong," was all Ardelia could think to come with. She had to think of something else. "I can put the cuffs back on you, you know," she threatened.
Susana tilted her head and gave her a surprised look. "Why, Agent Mapp. Putting restraints on a prisoner because they won't falsely confess? I believe that's torture."
"You've studied up on your rights quite a bit for such a little innocent." Ardelia said mockingly. Privately, she thought that Hannibal Lecter must have trained his daughter very well.
"I am under arrest," Susana said. "I do have rights. You know, Agent Mapp, you really ought to bone up on criminal law a bit more." She smirked again, showing Ardelia small, even white teeth. "Here I am a foreigner and I'm reminding you of things like that. Isn't that a shame? And you a section chief of the F…B…I." She drew out the words in the same mocking manner her father had used.
Ardelia's teeth clenched. This woman, this girl, who had been in diapers when Ardelia was on active duty, was winning the battle. Nothing Ardelia had said could even get under her skin. And Susana shared her father's talent at finding little ways to needle Ardelia: with her plays on Ardelia's guilt, her open scorn for the case against her, and any little thing she could find.. Then it hit her: she was playing the game by Susana's rules.
"Yes, I am part of the FBI," she said. "Your mother was too, once."
"I know that," Susana said, uninterested.
"Until she fled the country with Lecter. How's he doing anyhow? Killing anyone else? Eating them?"
Susana shook her head, but not before Ardelia saw a flash of anger in her eyes. Good. Keep it up.
"Did he ever teach you about cannibalism? Did you maybe get liver for dinner, real human liver? Is that what made you like this?"
Susana leaned forward, her eyes suddenly aflame. Although wounded, she was still dangerous. Ardelia grinned internally. She'd found the chink in Susana's armor.
"Shut up about my father. That is E goddam nuff from you."
"E goddam nuff? I guess you learned a little from your mother after all. She used to say that. Before Lecter brainwashed her."
Suddenly, Susana's eyes widened in surprise for the first time since the negotiations – if you could call them that – had begun. Her eyes tracked something above and behind Ardelia.
"Look at me," Ardelia said. "Look at me when I'm talking to you. I'm not done yet, kiddo."
From behind her came a woman's voice. Hearing it chilled Ardelia to the bone.
"Ardelia Mapp. Well, it has been a while, hasn't it?"
Ardelia's jaw dropped and her blood slowly turned to water. The cold muzzle of a gun pressed the soft spot behind her ear.
"Don't turn around, Ardelia. I'm armed."
"Clarice?" Ardelia whispered.
"Just stay there."
Clarice Starling surveyed her daughter. Her lips pressed together in rage. Never mind that, just get her out of here. She wore a simple, elegant suit. Over her left shoulder was an attractive leather briefcase. In her right hand, tight against her body where the people sitting across the room wouldn't see it, was a cut-down .45.
"Susana, honey, are you all right? Can you walk?"
"Yes," Susana said, "but not fast." She favored Ardelia with a victorious grin.
"That's okay. Get up now. " She prodded Ardelia with the gun. "Ardelia, put your hands on the table where I can see them. Susana's going to search you now. If you move, I'll blow your head off."
Ardelia heard her friend's voice and realized she was quite serious. She did not know whether to be elated or sick. For years, she had envisioned this day. She had wondered what she would think when she saw Clarice's face for the first time. Now she knew: she would be wondering if she would live long enough to get the letter of censure.
"Clarice, what are you doing?"
"Getting ready to put a .45 through your brain if you don't do what I said." A click underscored the threat. Ardelia raised her hands and placed them palm down on the table. A moment later, Susana shuffled around the table. Her fingers slid into Ardelia's pockets.
"Atta girl. She'll have a gun, handcuffs, her ID, and a sat phone. Get 'em all."
Susana removed the items and put them on a nearby table where Ardelia could not reach them.
"Give me the handcuffs," Clarice directed. "Good. Now put them on her. Ardelia, you know the drill. Hands behind your back."
Ten minutes ago, Ardelia had believed that defeat consisted of not getting a confession out of Susana Alvarez. Now, she knew it was much worse. The handcuffs clicked on, and Susana double locked them. Shit. You had to teach her to double-lock the cuffs, didn't you, Clarice? .
"Two pairs of handcuffs?" Clarice asked. "Why two?"
"One set are mine," Ardelia explained.
"And the other set were put on my critically injured daughter." The rage in Clarice's voice was palpable.
"I didn't put them on her, Clarice. The trooper at her door did."
Clarice let the strap of the briefcase slide over her left arm until it reached the ground. Her attention and the gun remained on Ardelia.
"Take the briefcase and go into the bathroom over there. There are clothes in it for you. Bring the gown back here, though," she told her daughter. Her tone was firm and commanding, as if giving orders to an arrest squad.
Susana took the briefcase and headed for the bathroom. Ardelia's jaw dropped: although slower than normal, Susana's pace was easily twice as fast as her trudge into the lounge. Playing possum. She should have known. Better to concentrate on Clarice, though.
"Clarice, don't do this. You don't want to do this."
"Oh yes I do," Clarice said. "As a matter of fact, Ardelia, I want very badly to shoot you right now. So how about you shut the fuck up and quit tempting me."
"Clarice, I never meant for this to happen."
"It was your damn op!" Clarice hissed. "If you had to arrest her, where the hell was the SWAT team? Where the hell were real, trained FBI? Where'd you get those yokels from? Barnum and Bailey Circus? My little girl almost died because of you. And at my father's grave? Is nothing sacred to you? Couldn't you have let her have her visit and gotten her going back to DC?"
"Your little girl killed nine people," Ardelia said.
"You can't prove that," Clarice said. "I know how it is. Charge her with being her father's daughter. Try her in the press. Death sentence or life sentence, all the same."
"That's not true, Clarice. You know that."
"Shut your goddam yap right now," Clarice said evenly, "or I'll loosen a few of your teeth."
Clarice crossed around and sat across from Ardelia. The family at the other table glanced at them, sensing tension, and left. For the first time in twenty-seven years, Ardelia beheld her friend's face. The years had been kind to Clarice. She had a few crow's feet in the corners of her eyes and a few wrinkles here and there, but she looked not terribly different from twenty-seven years before.
It was not a happy reunion. Clarice's mouth was a thin line of held-in rage. Her eyes burned at Ardelia. Clarice's left hand was on the table. Her right hand was below the table. . Ardelia knew well that in it was the gun, probably a big .45 like Clarice had always liked. If she tried to scream or call for help, the big gun would boom and Ardelia would be missing most of her large intestine.
"Clarice," she began, "I swear to God that it was an accident. I never meant for anything to happen to your daughter. I've waited so long for you, I can't tell you. Can't we just talk?"
"Not for long. I've got to fly."
"If you take her, we'll track you down."
"You haven't found us for twenty-seven years. I'm not worried. You should be more interested in the short term, Ardelia."
"Clarice, if shooting me would take back what happened to Susana, I'd tell you to do it in a heartbeat. And there's a plainclothes trooper out there who is going to come looking for Susana in a while. She's under arrest, Clarice. You can't take her."
"Goddam you, don't you tell me what I can't do," Clarice said. "Especially in regard to Susana."
Ardelia shifted her weight.
"So what have you been doing lately?" Clarice asked with a nasty smile.
"I run Behavioral Sciences," Ardelia said.
"That explains why you can't manage a simple arrest." Clarice's eyes flashed.
"How about you?"
"Oh, this and that," Clarice said. "Saving my daughter from cops who want to kill her. Nothing for you to profile me on."
Susana came back from the bathroom, dressed in a simple T-shirt, jeans, and running jacket. She held her hospital gown in one hand and the briefcase in the other. She wore blue contact lenses to mask her most striking feature.
"The ghost Clarice," Ardelia mused.
Mother and daughter looked at her curiously. Neither mentioned it.
"Stand up, Ardelia. Susana, your knife is in the briefcase. Get it out."
Susana dipped her hand into the briefcase and came out with the Harpy. She looked questioningly at her mother. Ardelia could tell what she was thinking. She wants to kill me. Wants to know if her mother is going to let her cut on me.
The more shocking thing was that Clarice knew, and didn't seem to care.
"Cut her clothes off," Clarice directed. "Put the gown on her."
"I want to get her holster first," Susana objected. "So I can carry her gun."
"You don't need her holster, Miss Chickabee." Susana looked surprised to hear her childhood nickname. "I'll keep her gun, thanks."
Susana stepped behind Ardelia. Ardelia felt the blade rip up one shirt sleeve, then across her back towards the other sleeve.
"Lucky for you mommy came to bail you out," Ardelia said viciously.
Susana said nothing, but brought the knife a measured half-inch closer to Ardelia's skin. The blade dug in and stung as it opened a shallow but long cut along Ardelia's back and shoulder. Ardelia got the hint and shut up.
When she had hacked through the sleeve, Susana pulled the remains of the shirt off Ardelia. She grabbed a bra strap glaringly white against Ardelia's dark skin. With a quick, measured pull she cut it.
"What are you doing?" Clarice asked, surprised.
Ardelia didn't even try to catch the flood of Spanish Susana replied with. She thought she heard the word nerviosa but was not sure.
Susana worked the gown over Ardelia's shoulders and then went to work cutting off her pants. When they, too, joined her bra and shirt on the pile of murdered clothing on the floor, Ardelia realized what was coming. Susana cut off her panties as well and then gathered up the clothing. She threw it away in a nearby wastebasket.
Ardelia was a good deal taller than Susana, and the gown was very short on her. With a sinking feeling, she realized that having her undergarments cut off was intended to make her nervous and preoccupied. What was worse was that it was working.
Clarice moved in and took Ardelia's right arm with her left. Clarice's right arm was tight in against her body. The muzzle of the .45 pressed into Ardelia's side. Susana took her other arm.
"Okay, Ardelia. If you do what I tell you, you'll live to see another day. Maybe run someone else's kid over. If you scream, if you put up a fuss, or any of that, I'll shoot you dead. We clear?"
"Yes," Ardelia said. "Clarice…we were friends once. Don't forget that."
"That's why you're still alive," Clarice said. When she spoke again, her voice was less angry. "Ardelia, listen to me. I loved you like a sister once. Susana is my daughter. Don't make me choose, cause I won't choose you."
The three headed out of the room and towards the elevator. Susana made sure to keep her face turned away from the hallway where the trooper sat in his chair, awaiting her return. Ardelia hoped like hell that he might notice. She tried not to be crushed when he did not. Her own fault, she decided. She had never given him a time limit. She noticed the pull on her arms. Clarice held her arm firmly, in the controlling manner of an arresting officer. Susana's grip on her arm was different. She leaned on Ardelia as she went, pulling on Ardelia's arm to keep her upright. In the elevator, she leaned against the wall and squinched her eyes shut in obvious discomfort. She was winded with the effort.
"Clarice," Ardelia said quietly. "Look at your daughter. She's in critical condition. I know you love her. But look at her, she might be bleeding out. Let her get the help she needs."
"I'm not bleeding out," Susana muttered.
"Don't you worry about taking care of my daughter," Clarice said. "I have all that under control."
She hit the button for two floors down. Ardelia sighed. She wondered whether or not Clarice planned to kill her. It seemed she wouldn't. She could have killed her, or let Susana kill her, in the lounge with little effort. Or maybe she was just looking for a place to hide the body.
When the doors opened, Clarice frogmarched Ardelia out into the hallway. Just by the reception desk was a bathroom. Clarice steered her group towards it. She pointed to a bench nearby.
"Sit down," she said to her daughter. Susana sat down gracelessly on it.
"Wait here. I'll just be a minute," Clarice said.
"Vas a matar a ella?" Susana asked. Ardelia knew enough Spanish to know what the question was. Are you going to kill her?
Clarice merely gave her daughter an irritated look.
Ardelia knew better than to kick up a fuss now, so she waited until Clarice pulled her into the bathroom and made her sit on the toilet before speaking.
"Clarice—,"
"Shut up, dammit."
"Killing me will just make things worse."
"I'm not going to kill you. Sit on the can there." Clarice approached her from the side, warily. She took the second set of handcuffs and fastened them to the pipe running into the toilet. The other cuff she fastened around the chain of the handcuffs Ardelia wore. Ardelia was now fixed to the toilet and could not rise.
"I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to do worse. I'm going to let you swing in the wind on this. See how you like it when the FBI turns on you. I'm taking my daughter home and getting her taken care of."
"Clarice, she's a killer."
"So am I. What's the difference?"
"I don't know you," Ardelia said despairingly. "How could you change like this? How could you turn your back on everything you believed in?"
Clarice snorted and pulled out a roll of duct tape from her briefcase, which apparently had everything you needed to rescue your daughter and hold FBI agents hostage.
"Old saying, Ardelia. You can fall in love with the Bureau, but it doesn't love you back. You chose the Bureau. I chose my love and my child. How could I change like this? Jesus Christ on a pogostick! How could I not?"
She ripped off a length of duct tape and slapped it over Ardelia's mouth, winding it around the back of her head.
"She's all I have, Ardelia. I lost my father and I lost my husband. I almost lost her once. I won't lose her again. Not to you, not to anyone. I don't care what it takes and I don't care what she did. If you had kids, you'd understand."
With that, Clarice stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door firmly on one of the last links with her old life. She saw Susana seated on the bench, her eyes closed and her mouth drawn down in a quivering bow of pain.
"Get up, Miss Chickabee," she said. "We got to get going." Susana's eyes opened.
"Don't call me that," she muttered.
"After what I just did for you? Some gratitude."
"We're not away yet," Susana said, rising slowly to her feet.
Clarice walked her daughter into the elevator. "C'mon, Susana. All we need to do is get outside the hospital."
"We have to get out of the country," Susana pointed out.
"Taken care of. There's one thing you have to promise me, though."
"What?"
"Enough settling accounts. Close the books. You did what you set out to do."
"Not all of them, though."
Clarice rolled her eyes. "Are you crazy? Who else did you have in mind?"
"Mapp."
"She's upstairs handcuffed to a toilet in your hospital gown. I think that's enough. I mean it, Susana. Close the books. The accounts are settled." She pointed a warning finger at her daughter.
"All right."
"I want to hear you say it."
"The accounts are settled. The books are closed."
"Very good."
On the ground floor, they headed through the halls to the main exit. Susana saw a limousine with DC plates idling outside and looked at her mother questioningly. Clarice nodded. She was concerned, though. Susana was limping noticeably and Clarice didn't like her color.
So she pushed her daughter most of the way to the limo and got her inside. A man and woman were already inside the limousine's spacious passenger compartment. As the limo pulled away from the curb, the man crouched on the floor of the limo and pulled out a small black bag.
"Buenos dias, Susana," he said. "Soy Dr. Perez, y ella es Flora, mi enfermera." The limousine turned smoothly onto the street, and carried along sedately until it reached the highway, where it merged swiftly into traffic. Police were unable to find it until it had already delivered its passengers and returned to the limousine company in order to pick up another passenger.
Ardelia Mapp was, as Clarice Starling had predicted, made the scapegoat for the escape of Susana Alvarez Lecter. She was suspended without pay, the first time in the history of the Behavioral Sciences unit that its active Section Chief had been so disciplined. She left the Bureau shortly thereafter and sold her duplex.
Barney sold his story to the National Tattler and made fifteen thousand dollars. After that, he lived in relative obscurity. He received a package in the mail from an anonymous source containing a very attractive print of the Vermeer in Buenos Aires.
A privately owned Lear jet took off from Washington, DC the day of Susana Alvarez's escape from custody. The owner was a Uruguayan company which had offices in a deserted office park in Montevideo. The listed destination was Albuquerque, New Mexico. As this was in the continental United States, no check by U.S. customs was necessary. The plane never landed in New Mexico. It continued on to Mexico, where it refueled. It continued on to Montevideo. The passengers did not. They transferred on the runway to another plane, also a Lear.
The plane normally held twelve people, but now could hold only eight. This was because four seats had been removed to make room for a gurney and medical supplies. The plane was well equipped to keep a badly injured but stable patient comfortable for the duration of the flight.
Susana Alvarez Lecter's injuries healed in time. She continued on with her life, satisfied that the accounts had been settled. She honored the promise made to her mother in a Wheeling Hospital elevator. The books remained closed.
The LECCOPY murders, the murder of Margot Verger, and the kidnapping of Barney remain unsolved.
FIN
Author's note:
This was a fun story to write, and I'm appreciative of all who thought it was a fun story to read. Ultimately, the votes for life or death for Susana were 3 in favor of death, 2 in favor of life. One vote for death was admittedly torn, so I decided to end the story with the ideas that came (life). I may take a page from DianaLecter and release an 'alternate ending' chapter to satisfy the bloodthirsty. If you're one of those, once it's up, everyone ought to be happy. Even so, it was sort of like 2 ¼ to 2 ¾ -- tough call.
Tell you what, too: I'll hold a little contest. The person who can correctly identify the origin of Clarice's nickname for her daughter will get the 'alternate ending' chapter 24 hours before I post it. Here's a hint: think movies, think actors. (Who says Luna should get all the fun?) Well, that and you have to provide an email address.
The number of years have switched around a few times in this story. That's not a goof. Settling Accounts follows the book canon. Most of Hannibal takes place in 1998 (although Mr. Harris never comes out and say this, there's a reference to Krendler getting away with the smear on Starling because of all the uproar over the presidential impeachment. As you know, unless you spent the past few years in a cave, that was in 1998. The end of Hannibal is set in 2000, as they make a reference to 'at the millenium'. Thus, Settling Accounts does take place 25 years after the end of Hannibal, but in other places, the numbers have to change.
Although Settling Accounts takes place in the future, I deliberately did not attempt to make much of the future with new gadgets and stuff. That's largely because this is a Hannibal fic, not a sci-fi story. A Susana armed with a phaser and beaming herself out of trouble just wouldn't have been as much fun. Where I have invented futuristic things, I did so as details. Tabletop DNA scanners don't exist yet, and the FBI does not issue satellite phones yet either. But I bet they'll be around in 23 years.
I also doubt this will be the last we see of Susana Alvarez Lecter. I have plans for a prequel set in Buenos Aires, and the GD will be part of it. That'll probably take a bit, as I have to do some background research.
Thank you for sticking it out this long, Dear Reader, and good night.