PART 12
"Why now, Dr. Lecter?"
"You invited me, Will."
Hadn't he known even before he opened that first goddam file that it would end like this, face to face with Lecter?
"You're suggesting that I've become suicidal?"
"Not at all." A cruel smile. "You don't have the courage. You're just self destructive."
Lecter punctuated this remark with a pointed glance at the Cuervo bottle sitting on the deck next to Will's chair.
In spite of his fear, Graham bristled with anger. Once again, the doctor had unerringly hit his mark.
"I've managed better than most who had the misfortune to cross your path."
"Do you think so, Will? Truly?" Cold maroon eyes watched him intently for a long moment. "Why take such an interest in my companion, then?"
The hands resting on Clarice Starling's shoulders moved in closer to her throat, thumbs stroking her neck. The eyes stayed fixed on their target.
Graham was stopped short. The careless intimacy in the gesture told him far more than he ever wanted to know.
"I..."
Lecter raised an anticipatory eyebrow.
Graham's mouth moved, tried to form an answer. Finally he gave up and met the dark eyes of the woman sitting across from him.
"Why?"
She shook her head with a long sigh.
"I doubt I could give you an answer that would satisfy you."
Will opened his mouth to respond, but it was Lecter's voice that filled the silence.
"That's not really what interests you, Will. Haven't you managed to define it for yourself at least?" He went on without waiting for a response. "You see certain surface similarities between Clarice and yourself, don't you? And what is the most obvious difference that you see, hmm? Would you care to attempt an answer, or shall I go on?"
He looked to Graham expectantly.
"All right, Dr. Lecter, I'll play." A pause, his eyes briefly meeting the doctor's placid gaze. A deep breath before looking away and plunging ahead with a single word. "Fear."
"Very good." Graham heard the sharp edge of sarcasm in the hiss of Lecter's voice. "Fear. Clarice's apparent lack of it is beyond your ability to comprehend, isn't it? How is it possible to remain sanguine in the presence of evil? That's certainly a feat you've found yourself incapable of." Lecter's eyes narrowed. "For all your proficiency in conjuring the sinister, it's never come without fear, has it, Will? You cultivate it, cling to it like a shield. You believe that without it, you'll topple into the abyss, don't you?" A pause, no doubt to savor the moment as the color drained from Graham's face and his breathing quickened into shallow gasps. "Your question, Will, is whether that ceaseless fear is a dubious sign of righteousness..." The words came out in a venomous sneer. "... or simply a show of weakness."
"No!"
Lecter calmly arched his eyebrows in a question. The response was a desperate whisper, forced out from between clinched teeth.
"You're wrong."
"Enlighten me."
Graham's eyes flickered uncomfortably to Starling and then moved to consider the waves crashing at the shoreline. He leaned forward in his chair, unconsciously reaching for the bottle at his feet. Lecter came forward swiftly and snatched it up just as Will's hand brushed the glass. The two men regarded one another, and then without a word the doctor straightened, brought the bottle to the empty glass, and poured.