Consciousness came back slowly to Lisa. There was not as much pain this time. She was back in the bedroom she had been in before. Her mind was dull and fuzzy. She vaguely remembered a dinner, and DeGraff dying, and Ardelia Mapp coming in. And then she couldn't remember much after that.
Susana Alvarez Lecter appeared over her, something silvery in her hand. That sight jumped Lisa's consciousness forward and she tried to move. She found she could not. Her wrists and ankles were tied down. Susana's expression was neither sardonic nor sadistic. She actually seemed concerned.
"You're awake," she observed. "Good. How's your chest?"
"It hurts," Lisa said thickly. Her tongue seemed not to want to move.
"I'm not surprised," Susana said calmly. "You did get shot, after all. And I'm afraid I don't have much in the way of painkillers, other than Vicodin." The pill bottle came out again. Two pills, this time.
Lisa shook her head and tried to shift her body. A fresh bolt of pain flashed up her and she groaned.
"No Vicodin? This is going to hurt, Lisa."
"No," Lisa grunted. "You can't…you're not…you'll kill me."
Susana Alvarez Lecter looked insulted. Lisa forced her eyes to focus on what was in her hand. It was a set of surgical forceps. Not a scalpel. That was good. She noticed that Susana wore a pair of latex gloves, as she had when she removed DeGraff's guts.
"I'm not going to kill you," Susana said darkly. "If I was going to, I'd have done it already."
Lisa grimaced and worked her jaw. "No…that's not what I mean…you have no medical background,…don't know what you're doing."
Susana's eyes flashed. Her mouth turned down primly as if she had been wrongfully accused of wearing white shoes after Labor Day.
"Bite your tongue, Lisa Starling," she said.
"You're not a doctor," Lisa wheezed.
Susana put the forceps in her other hand and held a scalpel in her right. She leaned over Lisa's body with a look of concentration on her face. Lisa's eyes widened in fear. She glanced down at her body and saw a sterile sheet over the wound, a hole in it so that Susana could work.
In a distracted tone, Susana said, "Not yet I'm not."
Lisa blinked her eyes and bit her tongue to help herself wake up. "…Yet?" she asked.
"I have a year of medical school under my belt. Would've been two, except for that incident with Chief Mapp and the truck. Plus I worked at an ER when I was in college," Susana answered. She opened the wound a bit with the scalpel, then reached in with the forceps and gripped the bullet firmly. Lisa Starling ground her molars together as Susana tried to get a grip on the bullet. It slipped a few times. The pain was immense, nauseating, weakening. It gripped her entire midsection and made her feel faint. Her sight wavered. Bright spots danced before her eyes.
Susana seemed not to notice: her mind was concentrated on her work. The damn bullet was slippery. She had to open up the wound a bit more and finally got purchase on the bullet. Satisfied, she pulled it out and displayed the dull piece of gray metal in the shiny jaws of her forceps to Lisa. Then she dropped it in a metal bowl nearby. It made a loud spang as it fell in.
Next, Lisa watched her cousin arrange a surgical needle and thread, scissors, and a dressing on her abdomen. Her hands clenched into nervous fists as she watched Susana begin to work. But she seemed to know what she was doing, and didn't seem terribly interested in hurting Lisa. Starling also had to remind herself that she didn't have much choice, tied down as she was.
"Could I…I changed my mind on those Vico…um…Vic…you know," Starling rasped. Susana looked over at her, slightly annoyed.
"Yes," Susana said in that same distracted tone. Starling placed it, finally. It was the way every ER doctor in the world talked when they wanted you to shut up and let them work. But thankfully, Susana dropped two white oval tablets into her cousin's mouth and then held a straw to her lips so she could drink the water.
"You…a doctor. It's surprising."
"Yes, I know." Susana reached down into the wound with the forceps. "This is going to hurt for a moment, but I want to close your lung up." A blast of pain radiated out from Starling's chest. Lights danced in her vision for several long moments. She gasped in sheer, mortal agony. Then it was gone.
"I decided to try helping people for a change," Susana said by way of explanation. "After that, who knows. Maybe I'll try feeling guilty for a while."
The Vicodin was not yet kicking in, and Lisa was still gasping from the pain. Her mouth curled up in a bitter grin, though.
"…bullshit, Susana,….," she said.
"You're probably right, Agent Starling," Susana Alvarez Lecter said. "It's for my papa. Plus, you know better how to hurt people when you know how to heal them."
"…you're killing me,…" Lisa clamped her eyes shut.
Susana looked her cousin in the eyes with a look of displeasure. "Well, then, maybe next time you'll take pain meds the first time they're offered," she said archly, not without logic.
Lisa lapsed into a funk of pain as her cousin carefully closed her lung. When Susana started in on the skin, suturing that expertly shut, the pain meds had thankfully begun to kick in. Lisa took an experimental breath.
"Are you going to kill me?" she asked.
Susana shook her head. "No. I do owe you for saving me from Mapp, and that's not a debt I feel comfortable owing. But I think we're square now." She pulled the thread taut and laced it again through Lisa's skin.
"Mapp…is she dead?"
"Of course she's dead. You blew her brains out, Lisa. Don't you remember?"
Lisa shook her head.
"Well, you did. I took the liberty of wiping your prints off the gun."
Lisa goggled at her wordlessly.
"What's one more murder charge to me?" Susana asked quizzically. "No sense ruining your record, now is there?"
Susana reached into her bag and removed a syringe. She brandished it at Lisa. Lisa's eyes widened.
"What is that?" Starling asked.
"This? It's a new sedative called Jacarin. In the ER, they call it Jack 'em in." Susana smiled down at her cousin. "Quite possibly the most useful drug in emergency medicine. It's new, it's effective, and you'll like it quite a bit." The needle stung Lisa's arm.
"Has some pain-killing properties, some tranquilizing properties, plus you can put a raging bull elephant to sleep with this stuff," Susana explained. "Patients love it because nothing hurts. Or if it does, it's not as bad. Doctors love it because it calms down the patients. Plus, it has some memory-fogging effects. Nothing too bad, but you won't remember much about tonight. It'll all be a nice…gray…fog."
Lisa tried to move away from the needle, but her cousin simply gripped her arm. The drug took effect quickly as it sped through her veins. Everything did seem foggy. Far away. She was distant from it all.
"You're stable, cousin Lisa," Susana said calmly. She stood up and placed a sheet of paper on Lisa's chest. Lisa tried to glance down on it, but her eyes stubbornly refused to resolve the writing there on it. "So I'll just take my leave of you now. Med school awaits, you know."
"Buenos Aires…we'll be watching,…" Lisa wheezed.
Susana pursed her lips and shook her head. She leaned down over Starling's face and smiled.
"Oh, no no no. I love Argentina, and it will always be home, but the best medical schools are in the United States, and by now you should know that I insist on the best." She rose again and picked up a black leather purse. Coach, Lisa noticed. She should have known.
"Now you take care to leave me be, Agent Starling. I have a few more years of med school, an internship, and a residency to finish. So I'll promise you this, dear cousin: no more killing, at least for the time being. I'm a busy girl, you know."
Lisa turned her head over to watch her departing cousin. The drug made her tongue thick and her thoughts slow to come. She knew she couldn't promise her cousin to leave her be, but Susana knew that.
There were things she wanted to ask, things she wanted to know, but her brain would not think the words and her tongue would not form them.
A door slammed. An engine started. Starling tried to roll over and gaped stupidly at the ropes binding her. Her eyes slipped closed.
When she awoke, there were people in the room with her. Black-fatigued people with guns in their hands. Above her was a paramedic examining her wound. She blinked her eyes and looked up at him dumbly. Kinda cute, she thought.
The paramedic turned his head. "She's awake," he called to someone. Then he looked back down at her.
"Agent Starling? You with us?"
Lisa moved her jaw and wet her tongue. "Yes," she said thickly.
Agent Laura Miehns approached her bedside, the cast on her leg and crutch under her arm barely slowing her down.
"You all right, Starling?"
"I think so," Starling replied.
"Who shot you? Lecter?"
Lisa tried to remember. Everything seemed hazy. She remembered DeGraff, and she remembered something about Mapp, and she remembered her cousin with a gun, and she remembered Susana leaning over her and hurting her a hell of a lot. And that was about it. But she knew somehow that Susana had not shot her.
"No….Mapp," she said.
The paramedic carefully lifted her from the bed and placed her down on a stretcher. This was the first realization that Lisa had that she was no longer bound. Another paramedic joined him and they began fastening her to it.
"You can question her at the hospital, Agent Miehns," he said authoritatively. "We have to treat her."
Then the ambulance drove off with Lisa Starling, into the night.
…
FIVE YEARS LATER:
Special Agent Lisa Starling, twenty-six years old, assigned to the Boston field office of the FBI, checked her gun again and holstered it. She was in a squad room of the Boston Police Department. Mixed BPD and FBI personnel sat around the squadroom. They had organized themselves into loose groups based on affiliation.
Lisa sighed. Only one more of these goddam arrest extravaganzas and I'm out of here. She touched the thigh pocket of her black BDU pants. In it was the coveted letter she had waited so long for.
Dear Lisa,
Per our discussion of April 7th, you will be joining the staff at Behavioral Sciences as a profiler effective July 1. I would've liked to bring you in earlier, but our budget for the new fiscal year doesn't kick in until then. You'll be receiving the official letter shortly, but you ought to know – you do have the job.
You had asked me about the possibility of hypnosis or drug therapy to bring out your memories of that night at DeGraff's home. In answer to that question: Susana Alvarez Lecter is long gone, and I'm loath to put you to that risk without some kind of payoff. We've got people searching for her, and eventually she'll pop up. I do have to ask why you're so sure she won't kill again.
At any rate, once you're here, we can discuss this further. I hear you're going in on the Palikov arrest. Good luck. Those Russians can be vicious.
Don Quincy,
Chief of Behavioral Sciences
Quantico, VA
Yes, it wasn't the official "You are ordered to report" bla bla bla, but it satisfied Lisa. It had taken almost forty years, but a Starling had finally gotten into Behavioral Sciences on a real, honest-to-God, permanent position. The fact that it was a personal letter was better, she thought. Her soon-to-be-boss actually cared enough to drop her a line.
But she had one more arrest to make first. Starling already knew everything a law officer could be expected to know about Dimitri and Natalia Palikov, so she didn't pay a lot of attention until the agent in charge of the raid actually pointed her out.
"Now, Natalia can be a bitch," he pointed out. "She's also got a crack team of lawyers, so Agent Starling will be actually taking her into custody. Natalia's claimed sexual harassment from male officers before, so we're just going to head it off at the pass."
"Is she violent?" one of the Boston boys asked.
The agent in charge pointed her out. "Starling, you want to say a little on that?"
Starling stood up and felt self-conscious as twenty men watched her. "She can be violent," Starling said. "Once she's in the cuffs, she's as sweet as can be. Until then, watch out. She likes to hide weapons on her, small guns, little knives."
"You going to need backup to take her down?" the same BPD officer asked.
He didn't seem to be snide about it, just asking, so Starling shrugged. "I'll try to take her down myself. If she doesn't cooperate, I'll call on you fine gentlemen to help me. Just make sure to keep your hands off her girlie parts, or she'll sue." She grinned.
She sat down again and thought. The Palikovs were running a regular old pharmaceutical operation out of their Back Bay mansion. They left coke to the Columbians, but not much else. They had a vast crank and amphetamine empire in the city. Rival dealers were often found tortured or shot. Most of the BOD narcotics squad knew who she was.
There were some DEA boys around too. Starling watched them chit-chat. She had made sure to study up beforehand on the Palikovs: she knew what sort of toothpaste they used and what perfumes Natalia liked. Natalia liked the expensive stuff: Chanel no. 5, usually. This last-minute briefing was boring.
Finally, they were dispatched in the vans off to Back Bay. Starling looked around at houses she would never be able to afford. The Palikovs' mansion was located in the heart of Back Bay, and Starling hoped that they went peaceably. Shooting in a neighborhood like this was bad. One might end up investigating thefts in military bases in the Arctic Circle. The rich of Boston did not want gunfire in their back yards.
The first part of the raid went quite smoothly. They burst in the door, presented their warrant to the maid who answered the door, cuffed her, and settled her in. Starling didn't think they were going to hold the maid, which was good. It was her employers they wanted.
She ran up the stairs, just behind the heavily armed Boston SWAT squad. Her weapon was out and she tracked back and forth for her prey. The place was grand, she thought. Crank must be a great business. Sculptures and prints decorated the hallway. The carpet was a fine gray material. The place dripped money and class. Starling didn't like it. It reminded her of her cousin too much.
If you had asked her, Lisa Starling would have told you that she did not think about the night she was found on a bed in Peter DeGraff's guest bedroom, drugged and restrained. She would tell you that she did not think about the bullet wound – the already treated bullet wound – nor the fact that the ER doctor who saw her told her he could not have done better himself.
Privately, Lisa could not stop thinking about her cousin. She racked her brains for the final words her cousin had said to her before she left. All she could remember of the night was the dinner with and of DeGraff, and then she vaguely remembered Mapp's entry. Forensics believed that Susana had shot Mapp. Lisa had difficulty recalling, but she doubted it somehow. At night, she was haunted by memories of Susana leaning over her, of Mapp torturing Susana, and then of herself shooting Mapp, and she kept waking up mouthing the phrase the guardian of the lambs.
But the guardian of the lambs had another wolf to hunt now, so she quit thinking about Susana and ran up the stairs. The squad saw Dimitri in the second-floor office he used to run his empire. Starling heard the shower running and knew where her prey was. She burst into the master bedroom and looked around. Huge bed, exercise equipment, and an incredible view. There was a white door off the bedroom that was slightly ajar. Steam billowed from it. Starling walked towards it, her gun up, and checked her corners religiously.
Natalia Palikova stood in the bathroom, dressed only in a white terrycloth bathrobe. Her face and hair were wet from her shower. She tilted her head at Starling when she saw her in the doorway.
"Agent Starling. Why, hello," she said in with only the faintest Russian accent.
"Natalia, you're under arrest. Turn around and keep your hands where I can see them." Starling noticed that Natalia was wearing silver nail polish.
Natalia turned around and raised her hands. With her left hand, Starling reached back for her cuffs. She held one of the silver rings high and approached Natalia from behind.
When Starling reached out to take her right wrist, Natalia pivoted. Her left hand reached out for Starling's face. In place of the more standard acrylic fake nails, her left hand was decorated with custom-made surgical-steel blades attached to her fingers with Krazy Glue. She slashed Starling's eyes and grinned viciously.
Starling screamed, but she still brought down the smaller Russian woman. Her eyes clamped firmly shut. Blind, she jammed the muzzle of the 9mm against the base of Natalia's skull.
"One false move," she hissed, "and I'll blow you away."
Even blind, Starling did her job. She located Natalia's one wrist and cuffed it. With the pistol at her skull, Natalia was most cooperative in giving her her other wrist.
"I do hope there's work in the FBI for a blind agent," Natalia cooed against her tile.
Starling's heart pounded. She was afraid to open her eyes. But she still had a job to do, and other than the fact that she was blind, she felt pretty much OK. She grabbed her radio headset.
"This is Starling. I'm in the master bath. I've got Natalia in cuffs, but I'm hurt. I need assistance."
Almost immediately, it seemed, there were thundering footsteps and then there were strong hands on her upper arms. It made her think of Susana and she panicked for a moment. Then she took a deep breath. These were allies. A gabble of voices confused her. Someone was lifting her off of Natalia and guiding her over to the bed. It was soft and yielding as she sat on it.
"Starling, I'm Boyle, from BPD. I asked you the questions in the squad room. You remember?"
"Yes," Starling managed.
"You're bleeding a little but it looks okay. Ambulance is on its way."
"Thanks, guys," she stuttered. "Where's Natalia?"
"They're bringing her out to a squad car. She got you in the eyes?"
"Yeah. It hurts. I'm afraid to open them."
"Don't. Ambulance will be here in a minute."
Starling knew that some of the patter was just that, patter. Meant to calm her down until the doctors got to her. Am I going to be blind? She thought. The idea made her pulse race, adrenalin flowing uselessly into her system.
Boyle and another officer took her by the arms and guided her down the stairs gently. She could hear other officers on the stairs, but they made way for their wounded comrade. She could tell when they walked her over the stoop and let her sit on the bumper of the van.
"Starling's hurt," she heard Boyle say. "Fucking Natalia got her in the eyes."
"That's attempted murder on a law officer," someone else said. "Starling, you okay?"
"All except my eyes," Starling said.
Then she could hear a siren and knew immediately it wasn't a police siren. She heard the rattle of a gurney and equipment.
"Agent Starling? We're the paramedics. Want to let us have a look at you?"
An agent came up and quietly asked to take Starling's gun. Despite herself, she felt eerily calm. She handed it over without complaint. No reason to bring it to the hospital. She could feel them putting her on the gurney and strapping her down. The ambulance rolled away with her to the hospital.
Déjà vu, Lisa Starling thought.
On the ride, one of the paramedics shone a light through her closed lids. She could see it redly, and rejoiced. Maybe she would be okay after all. They started an IV and gave her some pain meds.
In the ER, they seemed to know she was coming. She was handed off to an ER doctor quickly. He leaned over her. She could feel his body heat radiating off him and smell the antiseptic on his skin.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Carter," he said. He sounded young. "Looks like you had some trouble with your eyes."
He gave her a quick exam, and she tried opening her eyes. It hurt a lot, and she couldn't help but have nightmarish thoughts about her eye fluid leaking out. Her fingers tightened down on the steel bar on the side of the gurney. She closed her eyes again when he told her to.
"All right," he said. "We're going to take you up to surgery now, Agent Starling. Don't worry about a thing."
"Surgery?" Starling said, and tried to sit up.
"Yep. We want to get those eyes fixed. It's not too bad, though. I've seen worse. You should recover your sight with no problems."
"Wait a minute. Wait a minute. No one ever said anything about that."
His tone sounded concerned. "Agent Starling, please. Your pulse is up over ninety."
"Of course it is, I just got my eyes slashed!"
His voice came again, but not to her. "Abby, let's give Agent Starling ten cc's of Jacarin," Then he turned back to her. "I'm gonna give you something to help you relax."
"Jack 'em in," she said, and was suddenly afraid.
"I'm going to leave now and let the nurse get you in a gown," he said. A few moments passed in which he must have been looking at her pistol belt. "Are you carrying a gun, Agent Starling?"
"No," she admitted. "I left my gun with another agent. Figured you didn't want it."
"Good." She heard the shriek of plastic rings on metal rods.
Then the nurse was there, carefully helping her to undress. It felt strange. She could still move her body and did not need the help to move. But she could not see, so her own body was unfamiliar terrain for her. How weird to try and take off your boots or pants without seeing them.
"I'm giving you the Jacarin now," the nurse said. "It'll help you relax."
"And screw up my memory, I know."
The nurse seemed surprised. "It has had that effect, yes. Now let me take that belt off. There's nothing explosive on it, is there?"
"No," Lisa said. Then, unable to resist, she said, "I wouldn't drop it if I were you, though."
She heard the nurse's sharp intake of breath and grinned.
The nurse helped her fasten the gown and gave her a blanket. Lisa Starling laid back against the stretcher and sighed. From self-confident armed agent to blinded, helpless child in less than twenty minutes. And it was about to get worse.
They took her up to surgery. Lisa didn't try to open her eyes. The Jacarin coursed through her veins, calming her down. She was resigned to her fate. There were voices above her, some addressed to her, mostly to each other.
A warm hand on hers, giving her a quick squeeze. "Good luck, Agent Starling."
Then she was in the O.R. It was cold, and Lisa shivered. She felt hands under her body moving her onto the table. She cooperated as much as she could. Another voice above her: "She's already had 10 cc's Jacarin. 10 cc's pentathol to put her down."
The same voice boomed above her. "Lisa? Can you hear me?"
"Yes," she said in a nervous tone.
"Good. The surgeons are just finishing scrubbing up now. I'm going to give you some pentathol and make you sleepy."
I know what pentathol is, you dork, she thought. Don't talk to me like I'm five.
Latex gloved hands on her eyes opened them. She could see a fuzzy, distorted image of capped and masked faces above her. She sucked in air: it was uncomfortable to hold her eyes open. Other hands were busily strapping her to the table. The anesthesiologist held a black rubber mask over her nose and mouth. He told her to breathe deeply and count backwards from twenty.
Two more faces appeared over her. One appeared to be a man's. He spoke and attracted her attention.
"Hi, Agent Starling, I'm Dr. Windsor. We're going to take care of you." He indicated the face next to him.
His next words made her blood chill.
"This is Dr. Lecter. She'll be doing your surgery."
Maroon eyes she had seen before gleamed down at her in triumph. Lisa twisted her face from side to side.
"Agent Starling, please stay calm," the anesthesiologist said.
Starling took in a deep breath to scream and ended up with a lungful of anesthetic gas. She tried to raise her hands off the table. They were strapped down and immovable. She tried to close her eyes, but they had attached some sort of frame to her head to keep them open.
Above her, Susana Alvarez Lecter stuck out her hand to the surgical nurse.
"Scalpel and probes, please," she said.
"She's not under yet, Dr. Lecter," the nurse said.
"She will be in a moment," Susana said.
No! Lisa tried to scream into the rubber mask surrounding her nose and mouth. Her hands drummed briefly against the straps. It came out more as a breathless infant's cry. Then everything went black.
When Lisa awoke, she was being wheeled back to her room. She sat up in a panic and reached for her eyes. Almost immediately, there were hands on her wrists, pulling them down. She still could not see.
"What happened to me?" she demanded.
"Agent Starling," her nurse said. "You had emergency surgery. You're all right."
"I can't see," Starling cried. "I can't see. What the hell did you people do to me?"
"We had to repair your eyes and your eyelids," the nurse said. "You can't see because there are patches over your eyes."
"Why patches?"
"We couldn't let you run around with sutures hanging out," the nurse said primly. She carefully moved Starling from her gurney to her bed.
"Who did my surgery?" Starling asked, a bit more calmly. Maybe it was just a confused memory.
"Let's see…it looks like Dr. Lecter."
"L-E-C-T-E-R?" Starling spelled. She tried not to visibly freak out.
"Nooo," the nurse said thoughtfully. "You're thinking of that horrible old doctor from years and years ago. Our Dr. Lektor is very good, and she took great care of you. And it's spelled L-E-K-T-O-R. But that's okay. Lots of patients make that mistake."
"I want to call the FBI. Now. Please."
"Agent Starling, you've been out for a while. It's 11 P.M. Visiting hours are tomorrow."
"No," Starling said. "Now. Now now now, goddammit."
The nurse sighed. "Agent Starling, you've just had surgery. Now you'll have some calls from the FBI tomorrow. But for now, I'm going to feed you your dinner and then you should get some sleep."
"Fuck sleep," Starling said. "I want to make a phone call and I want it now. There is a dangerous killer here in this hospital, and I want a phone now."
"No, Agent Starling. Not until your doctor says so."
"My doctor is the killer," Starling said, and got out of bed. The nurse tried to fight her, but Starling knew fighting and she did not. Starling was able to quickly wrestle her to the floor. The nurse screamed for help. Almost as quickly as when Starling had needed help, there were people rushing in, hands on her, forcing her into the bed. She felt leather straps circle her wrists and pinion her in the bed.
"Agent Starling, calm down--,"
"She just freaked out on me--,"
"Never seen a patient do that post-anesthesia--,"
A new voice shattered the din.
"Okay, people," a voice came authoritatively, "let's all calm down. Agent Starling just got a little nervous post-anesthesia. I'll handle it." Then, she began giving orders. Starling remained in bed, terrified, and not willing to move. She knew it. It was Susana Alvarez Lecter.
"Let's have another 10 cc's of Jacarin, please. Agent Starling, I'm going to have a little talk with you. If you behave, I'll take those restraints off in an hour." She chuckled. Starling felt a needle dig into her arm and winced.
In a few minutes, it was all over. Starling could sense her malevolent cousin's presence in the room, although she did not speak. The nurse came back in and fed her her dinner. Starling ate it, even though it was horrible. She did not think her cousin had done anything with her food: hospital food was its own torture. Once that was done, the nurse scurried off and left Starling with her doctor.
Starling's hands flexed in the restraints.
"Susana?" she asked calmly.
"Why, no," the voice came. "We haven't been formally introduced yet. I'm Dr. Alina Lektor. I did your surgery."
"I know who you are," Starling hissed.
"You certainly do. I just told you. I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else, Agent Starling. Now look, I'm sorry about the restraints and the drugs, but if you behave, we'll take them off you. Your surgery went well, and you should recover your sight within a few days."
The drugs coursing in her system tranquilized Starling and made her wonder. Susana would never actually apologize for putting someone in restraints. Was she wrong? All she had was the voice and a confused memory of maroon eyes. Maybe it was just a result of the little chemical pharmacy floating through her veins. Maybe the name was just a hideous coincidence.
"Your name is Alina?" she asked.
"Indeed, Agent Starling."
"Tell me a little about yourself."
Dr. Lektor chuckled. "Not much to tell, really. I'm a surgical resident here. Graduated Harvard Medical School, been here ever since."
"That's an interesting name you have," Starling observed. Her hands made fists.
"Lektor? I know. But I'm not that Dr. Lecter."
"Related?"
Dr. Lektor chuckled again politely. "No."
"Are you related to me?" Starling pressed.
"My, you're very stuck on the relative thing, aren't you? No, Agent Starling, I'm not related to you that I know of."
The idea that she had just made a big ass of herself began to fall over Starling. She blushed.
"I see," she said. "Um…OK…can I be let out of these restraints now?"
"Give me ten minutes of good behavior and I'll let you out. Tell you what. I have a few more patients to check on. If you need something, call the nurse. I'll be right back." Starling heard her footsteps out in the hall.
Was she? Wasn't she? Starling couldn't tell. As the drugs worked their relentlessly calming magic, Starling lay back in the bed. She wished she could see. Just let her see the damn doctor once. That would tell her whether she was right or not.
Sedated, blindfolded, and restrained, Starling was unpleasantly aware of how dependent and vulnerable she was. Her fingers itched for her Glock. She hoped the doctor wasn't kidding about letting her out in ten minutes. She tried to bend over and lower her head to her bound hands. If only she could pull off the bandages for a minute…just one freakin' minute…Please, God, just one damn minute and I'll know if I'm either a big horse's ass or in real damn trouble here.
She heard footsteps approaching her. "Agent Starling," the nurse's voice said disapprovingly, "please don't do that."
Starling's head snapped up. She did not want the nurse to tell the doctor what she had done.
"I just want to see," she said. "Come on. I haven't seen anything since this morning."
"Then lie down for me," the nurse said. She heard the nurse rummage in a drawer. Then she could see the faint red light of a penlight through her eye patches.
"Now, Agent Starling," the nurse said. Her tone was that of a kindergarten teacher disciplining an unruly charge. "I need to tell you that you can't behave like this. Are you all right? Is there something more that's bothering you?"
Starling could tell that the nurse already thought she was a nut case. She knew that if she told the nurse she believed that her surgeon was actually her murderous cousin, who herself was the daughter of Hannibal Lecter, she would get a quick transfer to the psych ward. Even if it was true.
But would Susana be dumb enough to use her father's name? She thought.
But she could see it. That might be exactly what Susana was counting on. No one would believe her to be that stupid.
"I…ummm…well…," she said, and then it all came tumbling out in a confused mass.
"You see, my cousin is a serial killer and she's Hannibal Lecter's daughter and she's from Argentina, and that's my doctor," Lisa babbled. Normally, she would have held her tongue, but normally she was not as heavily drugged as she was. Nor did she know that the injection she had received was only partially Jacarin. Part of it was a small dose of sodium pentathol – a common drug for anesthesiology, but also used by psychiatrists in smaller doses as truth serum. "Dr. Lektor is Susana Alvarez Lecter. She's a killer."
"I see," the nurse said.
"Please don't tell her," Lisa implored.
"All right. It's OK. Just try to get some sleep. Don't fight the drugs," the nurse advised.
She heard the nurse leave. She tried to relax. It was impossible: her heart raced and adrenalin poured into her veins. She tried her restraints to see if she could escape them. It was impossible.
Her ears pricked. She could hear the nurse talking to someone else.
"Dr. Lektor, she's severely delusional," the nurse said. "She thinks you're her killer cousin and Hannibal Lecter's daughter. Seems like she might be schizophrenic."
"NO!" Starling screamed, and tried anew to free herself. "You bitch, you said you wouldn't tell her!"
Dr. Lektor re-entered her room and sighed. "Lisa, I don't know what's gotten into you. I'm going to hope this is just due to the anesthesia. I'm afraid I can't take those restraints off you if you're like this. I want you to try and get some sleep now." She spoke to the nurse and her tone changed from kind and understanding to dry and businesslike. "Another 10 cc's of Jacarin, please." Then she turned back to her captive.
"Lisa, if you're like this in the morning, I'm going to send you down to the psych ward," Dr. Lektor said.
"Oh god no," Lisa said. A sojourn in the nut hatch would doom her career. She'd never get to Quantico if they thought she was crazy.
"I have to go now," Dr. Lektor said. "I have surgery to do. But I want you to sleep. I'll be back, Lisa. I'll be back in a few hours for you."
She leaned in very close. Her hand closed down on Lisa's upper arm with amazing strength. Lisa Starling, blindfolded, drugged, and restrained, began to cry. She couldn't help herself. It was all she could do to keep her bladder from letting loose. The needle dug into her upper arm.
"Well, I declare," Dr. Lektor hissed into Starling's ear. Starling's spine tingled in terror.
The needle dug anew into her arm, and Lisa Starling lay back on her bed. She could feel herself being dragged back towards unconsciousness. She fought it as best she could, but slowly, it was closing in. She could feel it. Her traitorous body was responding to the siren call of the medication. But as the darkness closed in on her, Lisa Starling tried to the end.
"Dr. Lektor?" she called out. "Dr. Lektor? Dr. Lektor…? Dr. Lektor?… Dr. Lektor? DR. LEKTOR?"
FIN