A few days later, the case broke wide open.
Lisa had become the Woman of the Hour for her dramatic rescue of Susie Alvarez and Lisa Starklock. Both girls underwent emergency surgery at Maryland-Misericordia. The bullet wound to Susie's shoulder was not serious. It would take some additional surgeries before full mobility in the joint was restored. But she would live.
Lisa Starklock was in slightly worse condition. Susana had planned her device well, and the stab wounds she had received had caused internal bleeding and damage. But she was young and strong, and she rallied as best she could. A long road of recovery lay ahead from her encounter with Susana Alvarez Lecter, but she would live.
Lisa Starling was enjoying the moment. An article in the Tattler appeared, raving about how Lisa had 'thrown herself in front of the FBI guns to save the innocents' and 'unraveled the monster's scheme'. To her satisfaction, this article presented her as having a master's degree in psychology and pointed out that she alone had realized that the Susana Alvarez actually in StartLink's NOC had not been the one they sought.
The Baltimore Sun produced an article that was slightly less hysterical in nature but noted her quick thinking and heroism. Lisa cut out both articles and framed them in her cubicle. Most of the team seemed pleased for her. DeGraff, of course, did not, but Lisa did not particularly mind his opinion. His idea had simply popped up Susana's prior location and one nail job. Lisa had done something no one had done before. She had stopped Susana Alvarez Lecter from killing two people whom Susana had intended to kill.
Still, the symbolism of Susana's act was not lost on her. She was surprised; her profile of Susana had made her think Susana wanted her alive. After all, if she was dead, who would Susana torment? She thought – she hoped – that Susana's intent was to try to frighten her off the case, to make her fear for her own life.
Lisa Starling had never been one to hide under the table and cry. If Susana believed her to be a shrinking violet, she had another thing coming. She went in early to work and went to the firing range. She was already experienced with guns, but more practice never hurt. After a few hours of blowing satisfyingly small groups of holes in target after target, she went down to the depths of Quantico and found more ways to capture her cousin.
The team had more people canvassing beauty salons in Washington, Wheeling, and Baltimore. Lisa picked up a few of them out of the spirit of teamwork, but she doubted it would turn up much. How often did Susana go, anyway? But, she didn't want the others to think she was getting a swelled head, so she went to the salons on her list, stood in the reek of the acrylic fumes, and gave her card and Susana's picture.
The frustrating part was that they still had no real idea where Susana was or where she might strike again. Lisa was not sure herself. Susana knew Washington, DC from her prior trip. That was a possibility. Baltimore was, too. Susana had only been in Baltimore briefly, to kidnap Barney, but that was the city in which Dr. Lecter had practiced, and Lisa thought that it might appeal to Susana. And there had been a few murders in New York City before Susana moved on. She was fairly sure that Susana would avoid Wheeling, since Wheeling was where she had briefly been held.
Oh, but are you sure, Lisa? Or is it that you don't want it to be Wheeling? Her cousin's voice was mocking in her mind. Y'all don't like the idea that ah maht settle down in Wheeling?
No, she thought back. It's not…that I don't want it to be Wheeling. The evidence is against Wheeling. Baltimore and DC are more her speed.
This internal dialogue went on in her head as she headed down from the range to the subterranean depths of Behavioral Science. She hadn't been able to shoot this morning, so she had gone in the mid-afternoon. The Glock was satisfyingly hot in its holster against her side. She'd have to clean the gun once she got down there. But that was OK. She had a cleaning kit in her desk drawer.
Down in the gray halls, Lisa headed into her cubicle. She took a moment to observe the two framed newspaper articles with satisfaction. Then she sat down at her desk and began to review the crime scene reports from StartLink DSL. There was another meeting at four o'clock. How the hell are we supposed to catch her with all these meetings? We need time to profile and investigate, too.
Her phone rang. She grabbed it.
"FBI, Agent Starling," she said importantly. Part of her hoped it was the media. Another part of her hoped it was Susana.
It was neither.
A young girl's voice, heavy with accent, said, "Hello?"
"Hello, yes. This is Agent Starling. Can I help you?"
The voice vacillated for a moment. "Hello. My name…Le Duc Quong. I from Vietnam. I sorry, I no speak English good."
"I can try and get a Vietnamese speaker for you, if you like," Lisa said patiently. "What did you call for?"
"I call for…I call for…," the voice seemed unsure. Lisa felt a wave of frustration. Spit it out already!
But Le Duc's next words banished the frustration.
"I call about red eyed lady."
"Red eyed lady?" Lisa scrabbled for a pen and paper. "Tell me about it," she ordered.
"I go to work this morning, I see red eyed lady in old building as I go. No one live there. She move in, I think."
"Go on," Lisa said urgently.
"When I at work, red eyed lady come in. She break nail. I fix nail for her. She look at me funny." The voice trembled in fear. "She boucoup scary, red eyed lady. She ask me if she see me before. I say no, I afraid."
"You did right. Go on."
"I think red eyed lady is American. She talk like one. But she ask me if I foreigner. I say yes. She say she foreigner too."
"Le Duc, when was this?"
"This hour ago or so. I see red eyed lady, then I remember. You come into our salon yesterday and give picture. Say red eyed lady dangerous. If we see her call you."
"We'll protect you. Where is the red eyed lady now, Le Duc?" Lisa's voice was calm and solicitous.
"I no know."
"Where is the old building that you saw her in?"
"It on Bleeker street in Baltimore. But please…,"
"Le Duc, I need to see you right away."
The woman on the other end of the line panicked. "Noooo! I no see police! Please…I no have papers…I no do anything wrong…I no talk to police."
Crap. A hot tip and it's a fucking illegal immigrant.
"Listen to me," Lisa said sweetly. "Le Duc, if you help the FBI find the red eyed lady, the FBI can help you get a green card. Okay? We can help you. We'll go in front of the judge and say that you helped us and that will help you stay in the country." She was tempted to add that if Le Duc didn't, the FBI would FedEx her ass right back to Vietnam, but she didn't.
"What is the address, Le Duc?"
"Fourtee- semny-ni Bleeker. Near my apartment."
Lisa wrote it down.
"No police," Le Duc implored.
"We won't turn you in, Le Duc," Lisa said.
There was a sudden click as Le Duc hung up. Lisa pressed down the receiver, called down to Central Security, and asked them to send her the recording of the conversation. All telephone calls into the FBI are recorded. Rather than tape, an archaic invention in 2027, they are recorded digitally. A few moments later, Lisa's conversation with Le Duc appeared as an attachment in her inbox.
Lisa got up, walked over to Quincy's office, and showed him the email. The conversation took place again over the tinny speakers attached to his computer. He nodded.
"Talk to Baltimore PD," he said. "You're big in the news. See if they'd be willing to send out a cruiser to look it over and come back."
"Shouldn't we go there?" she queried.
"Not yet, Starling. You came out of StartLink smelling like a rose. The rest of us look kind of stupid, though. I want some sort of corroboration. Make the call. See what they get."
Lisa went back to her cubicle and picked up her phone. She dialed the main number for the Baltimore Police Department.
"Baltimore Police Department, Officer Hinkle speaking," came a bored woman's voice.
"Officer Hinkle? This is Special Agent Lisa Starling of the FBI."
The bored woman's voice changed immediately. "Are you that FBI agent from the paper?"
"That's me," Lisa said with some satisfaction.
"What can I do for you?" Officer Hinkle asked.
"We have a tip we'd like to check out. But we want to be subtle about it. If you wouldn't mind, we'd like you to send out a cruiser by 1479 Bleeker street in Baltimore and have a look."
"Is it related to that awful Dr. Lecter? His daughter, I mean?"
"I'm not at liberty to say," Lisa said.
"Is she really your cousin?"
"Her mother is," Lisa said, to shut her up.
"Now let me see, that address would be handled by…let me see the precinct…," Lisa heard papers flipping. "Let me get you in touch with that precinct."
There was a click and then dead air. Lisa sighed. Then another voice came on the line.
"16th Precinct. Sergeant Barlow," a male voice said importantly.
"Sergeant Barlow, this is Special Agent Starling with the FBI," Lisa said.
"Oh yeah. Officer Hinkle told me before she put you on the line. What can I do for you, Agent Starling?"
Finally, some goddam respect, Lisa thought.
"Well, we have a tip we want to check out quietly. Can you send a cruiser to 1479 Bleeker to check it out?"
"I suppose so. Hey, are you the one from the paper? The one who saved those girls?"
Lisa grinned. "Yes, that's me."
"Good job. That was some incredible stuff. How'd you know?"
"I saw the rope. Plus I knew the perp. It had to be a trick."
"Is this that Susana Lecter chick?"
"We don't know," Lisa said. She wondered what Susana Alvarez Lecter would do to anyone who called her a chick. It probably would involve a lot of pain. "We're trying to check up on a tip. Now Sergeant, this perp is armed and extremely dangerous. Please, when you send someone out, don't have them go inside. We don't want to tip them off and if she saw them, well,...,"
"It wouldn't be good."
"OK. What do you want them to do, then, Agent Starling?"
"Check out the outside. See if there are any lights on. See if there are any cars."
"OK, Starling, I'll dispatch someone out and see what I can find."
Lisa supplied him with her number and thanked him very much. It was time for the meeting. Lisa scowled. She didn't want to be trapped in a meeting room going over what Susana had already done. But she couldn't get out of it.
In the meeting, Chief Quincy droned on and on about the Roland Mapp murder and the StartLink stabbings. Lisa jiggled her foot impatiently. She didn't volunteer much. DeGraff was thankfully not present. He was checking something out in Wheeling and not due back until later that night.
Lisa gave a brief, perfunctory summary of the call she had received. She explained that Le Duc Quong was probably an illegal immigrant and that tracking her down would be tough. After that, she returned to her usual impatient silence.
Let me out of this damn meeting, she thought. LetmeoutletmeoutLETMEOUT.
Ralph Lima looked at her from across the table. She gave him a smile that was more of a facial muscle spasm and continued tapping her foot.
Time passed by interminably. Someone was blabbering about how the StartLink situation meant that Susana would try for Starling next. Lisa fought to avoid rolling her eyes.
Let me out of this meeting or she'll never get the chance. I'll die of terminal boredom in here. I need to know what Baltimore PD came up with. Please please please.
"I've made arrangements to ensure Agent Starling's safety," said Chief Quincy.
That got her attention. Lisa sat up.
"Sir?" she asked.
"If this tip from Baltimore PD pans out," Quincy explained, "we're going in jointly with HRT. And you, Agent Starling, will be detailed to Agent Miehns. Have you heard of her?"
Lisa had. HRT was the Hostage Rescue Team, the most heavily armed branch of the FBI. It was akin to the SWAT teams of most major city police departments. HRT was commonly viewed as the slavering gun nuts of the FBI. It was commanded by Agent Laura Miehns. Lisa had never actually met her, but she had heard of her, like just about any woman on active duty in the FBI.
"You mean…I'm not going to be part of the collar?" she asked in astonishment.
"Not quite. We'll discuss it later," Quincy said. "In private, Agent Starling."
Lisa leaned forward, her jaw dropping and a look of indignation on her face. After everything she had done, she would not be taken off the case.
"Respectfully, sir, I'd like to ask a few questions," she began.
Quincy shook his head. "Wait until Baltimore PD calls you back, Starling. Then I will discuss this with you, in private."
"Yes, sir," she said bitterly.
The door opened. Faces turned to look at the intruder. It was the elderly, pleasant secretary for Behavioral Sciences.
"Pardon me," she said in her grandmotherly tones, "but I have a Sergeant Barlow holding for Agent Starling. He said he thought it was important."
"Hell yes," Starling said, before anyone else could object, and ran for her cubicle.
The phone was already off the hook. Bless you, Beverly, Lisa Starling thought towards the secretary. She grabbed it.
"FBI, Agent Starling," she said breathlessly.
"Agent Starling! Sergeant Barlow here. I thought you'd want to hear this ASAP."
"I do. What have you got?" she demanded.
Thankfully, Barlow did not torture her by drawing it out. "I sent a prowler out by the place. It's an abandoned factory. Mid-size, I guess you would say. There are a few lights on – not much, but some. Plus, there's a car parked outside."
"What kind of car?" she demanded.
"Jaguar XJ6. Two years old. Plate number comes back to a Dr. Donald Kreglow. Reported stolen earlier this morning. It's black. And there are some shopping bags on the front seat."
Lisa didn't know car theft was one of Susana's talents, but somehow it didn't surprise her.
"Did the officer see anything or anyone in the building?"
"He didn't approach it, like you said. Just looked from the patrol car. He didn't see anyone, just the lights and the car."
"Thank you. Thank you very much, Sergeant," Lisa panted. She hung up the phone and raced for the meeting room.
Everything stopped when she entered. Everyone on the team knew what this call meant.
"It's her," Lisa said. "Black Jag parked outside the building. Lights are on. Looks like our Susie."
Quincy nodded. "OK. Call HRT. Starling, you're with me."
Behavioral Sciences had never been so busy. Agents ran back and forth gathering up what they would need for the collar. Guns were taken out, cleaned, and prepared.
At the same time, the offices of Behavioral Sciences were invaded by intruders. They wore black fatigues and caps and carried H&K submachine guns in their hands. Pistols occupied holsters on their waists. They looked emotionlessly on the intellectuals who occupied Behavioral Sciences. This was the Hostage Rescue Team. With military discipline, they marched down the halls. The woman at the head of the column walked into Chief Quincy's office. It appeared almost as if a Latin American coup had taken place in the depths of Quantico.
Quincy walked Starling into his office, where the woman was waiting. Starling sized her up. She was much taller than Starling and about the same height as Quincy – which put her at six feet, Starling reckoned. Her hair was several shades darker brown than Lisa's malevolent cousin's, tied back in a long ponytail. Lisa wondered idly if that was acceptable HRT practice. But of course, this woman commanded the HRT. Rank had its privileges. She looked at both Starling and Quincy as they came in.
"Sit down, Starling," Quincy said, smiling at her like a pleasant grandfather.
Lisa sat. She eyed the woman suspiciously.
"This is Agent Laura Miehns. She runs the HRT."
The woman smiled once and offered Starling her hand. Starling reached out. Her own hand was swallowed up in the woman's.
"Hi, Lisa," Laura Miehns said with more warmth than her military bearing suggested. "As Chief Quincy said, I'm Agent Miehns and I run the HRT. Also, Chief Quincy has asked me to ensure your safety on this raid. You'll be with me while we bring down Susana Alvarez Lecter."
Lisa turned from Quincy to Miehns, her face open with shock and betrayal. She could have expected DeGraff to pull something like this, but Quincy? He had always been fair. Or at least she thought he had.
"You asked her to babysit me?" she asked Quincy venomously.
Miehns answered for him. "Starling, I'm not a babysitter. I'm not real good at that. But what I am good at is keeping people safe. You'll be there when they bring her out, you'll be part of it, but you'll be with me at the command post."
Angry tears glittered in Starling's eyes and she forced them away.
"After all I've done for this investigation," she said bitterly.
"Now Starling, don't take this so hard," Quincy said comfortingly. "It's not a punishment. It's for your safety."
"Fuck my safety! I'm an FBI agent like everyone else. I'm qualified in pistol like everyone else. I've worked as hard as anyone on this investigation. I deserve to be there when they bring her out. Not making coffee back at the command post."
"Starling," Chief Quincy began.
Agent Miehns made a gesture and took a chair. She sat down on it backwards, like a cowboy. Now she was at the same level as Lisa. When she spoke, her voice was calm, but not without sympathy.
"Starling, everyone knows how much you've done. Even I've heard about you, now. And most of the time Behavioral Sciences and HRT don't have much truck with each other." She noted how Starling's eyes lit up.
"Now. I tend to talk a little bluntly and I don't screw around. You'll just have to forgive me. Let's look at the facts, shall we? There is only one FBI agent who Susana Alvarez Lecter has ever contacted herself. That's you. She's sent you a little gift, from what I understand, she's called you, she's emailed you. The woman we are going out to take down is a very dangerous woman. She has killed people before. She has killed armed police officers before. And she just happens to be your relative and has fixated on you. Now nobody's trying to deny you anything. But the fact of the matter is, Chief Quincy asked me to ensure your safety. I agreed to do that. I deliver on what I agree to do, Starling. So first off, don't bitch to Quincy and think he'll give you what you want because he doesn't want to look sexist. Bitch to me, Starling. You can complain that I've discriminated against you to OPR if you want."
Lisa Starling stared at Laura Miehns as if she had been slapped. Miehns pushed on.
"I have decided that you'll stay back with me at the command post. That's not to punish you. That's because if you're on one of the teams going in the building, that will send up a red flag to Susana Alvarez. You want to risk the lives of the people with you? Cause you're not. Not my people, and not Quincy's. Your choices are stay at the command post and be there when she comes out in cuffs, or stay here and maybe visit her in Baltimore County Jail. Or maybe we'll bring her back here, it's not like we haven't held prisoners here before. You did great work at StartLink, don't let anyone take that away from you. But I don't have time for prima donnas either. So what's it going to be, Starling?"
"Fine," Starling said bitterly.
"And you won't be making coffee, either. I need people to help at the command post. We have work for you." Miehns's voice was softer.
As much as Starling hated to admit it, Agent Miehns was right. Her presence on any of the arrest teams would be akin to a signal flare to Susana. Better to be there when they brought her out. At least it would be something.
"All right," Starling said. "I'll do it."
"Good, Starling." She turned her head. "Dixon, you out there?"
"Yes, sir," came the reply. Both Starling and Quincy looked puzzled.
"They call you sir?" Lisa asked.
"Yes, they do. That's how it's been done. And as you may have noticed, I don't do the pink-and-frilly stuff like your cousin does." Miehns chuckled.
A short, dark, intense man in the standard HRT black fatigues came in. He glanced up and down at the two Behavioral Sciences agents.
"This is Dixon," Miehns explained. "He's about your height and weight, so his fatigues ought to fit you pretty well. We're going to try to make you look HRT, hopefully that'll make it harder for Susie Q to ID you."
Starling looked at him and raised an eyebrow. She hoped he wasn't going to strip right there in Quincy's office. She wondered what would happen if he did and she slipped a dollar into his underwear and decided she was becoming depraved.
Thankfully, he did not. He pulled a haversack out and removed a neatly folded set of fatigues, complete with boots, cap, and pistol belt.
"There you are," he said in a friendly tone. He looked expectantly at Agent Miehns.
"Dismissed, Dixon. Don't worry, she won't get girl cooties on them."
Dixon grinned with large white teeth and left the office without another word. Lisa took the fatigues to the ladies' room and changed quickly. It took a bit of work to get her standard duty holster onto the pistol belt, but she managed. She tucked her hair up under the cap and observed herself in the mirror.
The door opened. Agent Miehns came in.
"I said you could change, not do your mascara," she grinned. She took in Lisa in the uniform. "Not too bad, Starling. You ever get tired of these Behavioral Science geeks, come see me. You look good. And I've seen your range scores."
"I look like I'm in some Latin American guerilla squad," Lisa said, testing the waters of Agent Miehns's sense of humor.
Miehns grinned. "That's not terribly off from what we are, Starling. Now come on. We're moving out."
Starling saluted. "Sir, yes, SIR!" she said, and clicked her heels.
"Don't be a wiseass, Starling."
Hurriedly, the slightly odd group of combined HRT warriors and Behavioral Sciences intellectuals made their way out the door to where several vans were waiting. The vans drove off smoothly into the dying day. By the time they reached Baltimore, it would be dark. That wasn't too bad. They were confident in their ability to bring down their prey. Inside the vans, HRT agents showed the Behavioral Sciences people how to use the radios they used. They were hurriedly divided into three teams. Starling's responsibility, she was told, would be to keep track of the three teams that would enter the building to search for Susana Alvarez Lecter. She was given a copy of the building blueprints. That contented her: at least it was a real job to do. Although she desperately wanted to be the one to put the cuffs on her murderous cousin, she would do what she had to.
Back at Quantico, a lab tech was curious. He opened up his email and then connected to the computer the FBI used for voiceprinting. He was curious to see what would happen, more than anything else. The voiceprinting program was new, and it made for a great toy. He glanced over at the clock. The agents had left two hours ago. Probably they had already deployed. He wondered if they had gotten Susana Alvarez already.
The first sample the bored lab tech fed into the computer started to play.
"Mr. Herman was very rude. Please, we implore you not to be rude. It might save your life someday. This concludes our public service announcement." The computer duly noted this as SAMPLE 1 VOICE 1. A multicolored bar of red, green, and yellow humped up and down as Susana Alvarez Lecter's digitized voice was fed into the computer. The tech entered SUSANA ALVAREZ in the name field.
Another tech saw what the first was doing and walked over.
"Whatcha doing?"
"Oh, just checking out this new program," he said. "It's really cool. It can compare voiceprints, tell if it's the same person. It's really cool. See, old ones could get confused if they heard two voices at once, like on a phone conversation. This one doesn't. Plus, it can screen for things like phone static, background noise, that sort of thing." He yawned. "Just thought I'd play with it while the big bad agents are away."
The second tech leaned down to look. "That's the Lecter sample."
"Yup. Now look, Starling is her cousin, or something. Let's play her phone conversation in and see what the Big Box makes of it. Maybe it'll tell us they're related or something." He clicked again, opening the email Lisa Starling had sent out. He fed the computer the recording attached to the email.
"FBI, Agent Starling," came from the speakers. The computer recognized this, and noted it as SAMPLE 2 VOICE 1. Another red, green, and yellow bar humped up and down as she spoke. Dutifully, the tech informed the computer that the voice belonged to AGT LISA STARLING.
"Hello?" Not missing a beat, the computer logged this as SAMPLE 2 VOICE 2. A third bar appeared next to it, chummily under the SAMPLE 2 VOICE 1 listing.
"Hello, yes. This is Agent Starling. Can I help you?" The bar indicating AGT LISA STARLING bumped up and down.
"Hello. My name…Le Duc Quong. I from Vietnam. I sorry, I no speak English good." The tech spelled out the name phonetically as best he could. The computer was not fooled.
The conversation ran through to the end. The tech waited and then hit ANALYZE.
ANALYZING….the computer said.
"Let's see what it says," said the first tech.
ANALYSIS COMPLETE. CLICK OK FOR DETAILS.
The tech clicked OK.
SAMPLE 1 VOICE 1: SUSANA ALVAREZ
SAMPLE 2 VOICE 1: AGT LISA STARLING
SAMPLE 2 VOICE 2: LE DUC KWONG
The tech nodded at the data below that. Susana Alvarez and Lisa Starling were the same age, same gender, and had voices in similar pitches. A seventy-six percent match was not surprising.
SAMPLE 1 VOICE 1: SUSANA ALVAREZ
SAMPLE 2 VOICE 2: AGT LISA STARLING
SIMILARITY SCAN: 76%
NON-MATCH
The tech gasped and turned pale at what he saw below that.
SAMPLE 1 VOICE 1: SUSANA ALVAREZ
SAMPLE 2 VOICE 2: LE DUC KWONG
SIMILARITY SCAN: 100%
Below that, a single word blinked on and off in red:
MATCH
The tech moved back in his chair and gasped. The white light of the monitor made him look paler than he already was. He glanced over at the second tech. When he spoke, his voice was thin and high with shock.
"It's a trap," he whispered.