PART 7
Graham stared out the window of the 757, as it moved through the night sky. This little field trip had been a waste of time. He wasn't any closer to figuring Starling out than he had been when he'd left the Keys.
You're no closer to understanding her? Don't you mean, you couldn't find anyone to confirm your suspicions that she left with Lecter willingly?
After Ardelia Mapp retrieved Mr. Jackson's address, he had taken several passes at discussing the speculation regarding the nature of the relationship between Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter. Agent Mapp avoided each one with increasing vehemence, which convinced him that she had at least vague misgivings of her own... but no intention of sharing them no matter how hard he pushed.
"Surely you should understand just how harmful tabloid rumors can be, Mr Graham."
He had told her that he understood perfectly, and also that he understood just as perfectly that sometimes they held at least a hint of truth. She had asked him to leave.
She's nowhere near admitting it to herself, Will. What made you think she could admit it to you?
Barney Jackson had ultimately been of little help. He did confirm that Starling's suspicions about Paul Krendler had been well-founded, but that was immaterial now. Krendler had disappeared not long after Starling herself had gone missing.
Maybe Krendler disappeared because of Starling?
Lecter had killed a man for offending her after their first meeting. Who was to say he wouldn't do so again? Who was to say she hadn't done it herself this time, for that matter? As far as Graham was concerned, anyone who could be comfortable with Hannibal Lecter was capable of anything.
How do you do it, Ms. Starling? How do you reconcile what he is? And why in the name of all that's holy doesn't it disgust you?
Graham remembered Jack asking him once why anyone would want to meet Lecter. Maybe he should have asked her. She might have had an answer.
He saw something in you, something that intrigued him. What was it, I wonder? And just what did you see in him?
He kept coming back to the conclusion that she wanted to go with Lecter, but why was he so sure? Why was he so sure Lecter wanted her, for that matter? He knew very well how much Lecter enjoyed playing with people's heads. Why was he so quick to assume this woman was any different?
Too many assumptions.
Perhaps he was simply incapable of the objectivity required to do this. He thought about contacting Alan Bloom, but quickly discarded that as a possibility. He had no desire to revisit his own past too closely, and Bloom was not the man to help him avoid that.
Barney Jackson had said that Verger consulted a psychiatric expert... Doemling. Maybe he'd contact Doemling when he got home, see what this guy's take was. It couldn't hurt. At the most, it would cost him a little of his time and a few bucks for the call.
"Would you like another drink, Sir?"
Graham looked over to find the flight attendant smiling at him.
"Sure," he muttered, reaching into his pocket. "Why not?"
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Several hours later, Will Graham came off the plane in Miami Beach and headed off to find the gate for his commuter flight.
"Mr. Graham!"
He turned to search for the owner of the voice and found himself looking into the lens of a camera.
"For fuck's sake!"
"Mr. Graham, you are investigating the disappearance of Clarice Starling, aren't you?"
He was already storming off through the terminal. The reporter had to run to catch up to him.
"Do you think she's with Lecter?"
This earned the young woman an exasperated look back over his shoulder, but still he said nothing.
"Are you sure you should be the one to go after them, Mr. Graham? Your track record isn't so good with Lecter."
She was trying to piss him off enough to comment.
It's not gonna work, Sweetheart. Give it up.
"Isn't it true you've almost been killed twice in your dealings with Hannibal the Cannibal?"
Fuck it!
He stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face her. She was winded but had a look of clear triumph on her pretty features.
"As I remember it," he hissed, "the one who died in the last round was a low life tabloid reporter."