Author's note: Steel, 'slimy piece of worm-ridden filth'? Crawford the Hutt? Now there's an interesting idea. Emotionally scarred for life? Well, then, this won't help….
Clarice Starling stared helplessly at the two figures a hundred yards away from her. One was her husband. The other was her niece. This was something she had hoped and prayed she would never have to see. But fate had been unkind.
Dr. Lecter was perhaps fifteen feet in front of Charlene. He was on his knees with his hands folded on the back of his neck. He stood tall even kneeling. His back was straight and unbowed. Clarice had binoculars, and through those she could see the look of concern on his face. It was said that Dr. Lecter did not have emotions, but he did have the desire to avoid being killed.
The binoculars revealed Charlene to be much more of a cause for alarm. She was trembling and her eyes were bulging. Clarice recognized the signs of pure, naked fear. And Charlene had her big .45 aimed directly at the back of Dr. Lecter's head. Occasionally she would glance for just a second over at Clarice.
Clarice had her rifle, but was frankly terrified to use it. There were two reasons for this. She'd fought to save her niece once, damn near getting herself killed in the process. The thought of shooting her made Clarice quail. The second reason was that she didn't know if it would do any good. Clarice knew the gun in Charlene's hands. It had been hers for a lot longer than it had ever been Charlene's. The trigger had been made a bit lighter than the standard. Even if she shot Charlene and killed her instantly, all it would take would be a muscle spasm in Charlene's fingers and the back of Dr. Lecter's head would be spread all over the tarmac. If she tried to kill Charlene, horrifying as that thought was, she still couldn't guarantee Dr. Lecter would survive. Killing one would not save the other.
Feeling like a prisoner, Clarice laced her fingers through the cyclone fencing and stared at her niece longingly. Was there any way she could reach the younger woman? Or was Dr. Lecter too terrifying a figure in her mind? She had a disturbing feeling that the latter case was true. Couldn't she understand? Dr. Lecter meant her no harm. He did not begrudge her having captured him. He wanted his freedom more than revenge.
"Charlene!" she shouted. "Can I talk to you?"
"Aunt Clarice, go away!" Charlene shouted back by way of reply. "Drop your weapons and just go away. You cain't help him." Her chest heaved as she kept a most careful watch on her prisoner.
"I don't have any weapons," Clarice said.
"My ass you don't," Charlene shot back. "You got at least two. I know you do."
Clarice thought of the sniper rifle she had in the van and the pistol hidden against the small of her back and sighed.
"Charlene, might I ask you to calm down?" Dr. Lecter asked calmly.
Charlene's eyes shifted back to the kneeling boogeyman in front of her. "You shut up!" she said sharply. "You ain't getting in my head like you did Aunt Clarice's. No sir. You just stay there an' keep your mouth shut."
"Are you going to kill me here, Charlene?" he asked. His voice was soothing and calm. "Execute me here with two bullets in the back of my head? Is that who you are?"
Charlene waited. Her eyes were wide with fear. But she still kept the gun aimed firmly at Dr. Lecter.
"I will if you make me," she said, sounding bizarrely like a recalcitrant child.
"I shan't make you do anything," Dr. Lecter said. "But Charlene, I might like to put my hands down, if I may."
A high note of panic raised Charlene's voice into a high-pitched shriek. "Keep them where they are!" Her eyes shifted over to her aunt. "Keep your hands where I can see them, Aunt Clarice," she said firmly. "I know you've got a gun. Don't tell me you don't. Now we've traded. I got the bad 'un this time. You g'wan. You made me g'wan before. Now you go."
"Honey, I'm not going anywhere," Clarice said. "Just…just listen to me. This isn't what being an FBI agent is about. Now look. I'm not armed. Can I just talk to you? I saved you, you know."
"I paid you back for that when I busted you out of Greenwood," Charlene said. Her drawl colored her words to the point that Dr. Lecter, with his delicate Eastern Seaboard pronunciation, found it slightly hard to comprehend. He had lived long enough with Clarice Starling to recognize what it meant. She was either extremely angry or extremely upset. In Charlene's case he suspected it was both. Usually he had learned to let Clarice cool. That wasn't an option. The cavalry was arriving. But here was a possible in.
"Greenwood? Is that the psychiatric facility in Virginia? The Veterans Administration institution?" he asked.
Charlene stared at the back of Dr. Lecter's head. Her mouth trembled. Her eyes bulged.
"Yes," she said unwillingly.
"Whyever was Clarice there? Is that the 'help' that Jack Crawford promised her? I've heard of that place. It was a hellhole when I was practicing psychiatry. Charlene, ask yourself. Why did Jack Crawford incarcerate your aunt there? It was so he could do something nasty to her; otherwise you wouldn't have freed her. Isn't that the case?"
"You shut up!" Charlene screamed. From the way her voice jagged, Dr. Lecter thought she had only the most tenuous grasp on her emotions. Pushing her would not be a wise idea, given the circumstances.
"Please, Charlene. Calm down." Dr. Lecter's voice was soothing.
"Don't you tell me what to do," Charlene panted. "You just…you killer…you just stay there an' wait for the rest of the agents to show up."
"I don't want you to kill me, Charlene. I hardly think that's unreasonable. Do you want to kill me?"
A few hundred yards away, Clarice banged the fence in frustration. She could hear Dr. Lecter's voice but couldn't discern what he was saying. He couldn't see Charlene behind him, but Clarice could. The binoculars revealed a woman in the grip of hysteria. Her hands were trembling. Her eyes bugged from their sockets. Her pulse beat in her forehead. Must be up over a hundred and twenty, Clarice thought. Hannibal, don't push her, for Christ's sake.
A phalanx of cars was drawing closer to the airport. Red lights flickered from their roofs. Charlene was not looking at her. That meant…oh God. That meant she had to act now.
Clarice jumped back in the van and picked up the sniper rifle from where it lay. Tears blurred her vision. She felt nauseated. Oh God, I don't want to do this. I'll just wound her. Please, God, guide my hand.
She sat down in the passenger seat of the van and lifted the rifle to her eye. Charlene's terrified face appeared in the scope. A bolt of pain washed through Clarice at the sight of that. She dropped the rifle a bit lower. Where could she fire and not kill or maim? It was hard to think.
As Clarice was making her preparations, Dr. Lecter adjusted a bit. It was uncomfortable to kneel on the tarmac. He was more concerned about the hysterical woman with a gun behind him. Calmly, he cleared his throat.
"Charlene," Dr. Lecter asked, "please, now let's be reasonable. I have complied with your requests. I mean you no harm. I don't know what you think I deserve, but I must question if summary execution is what you consider just. From what I have seen of you, it doesn't seem to be."
From her tone of voice, Dr. Lecter thought she was not far from tears. "You just quiet down," she said. "You just quiet down and sit tight."
Dr. Lecter sighed.
"What did you do to my aunt?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Dammit, you did brainwash her, didn't you? Lookit her. Out here risking going back to the loony bin for you."
"I did not brainwash her," Dr. Lecter said. "I helped her to understand…that she could not be happy in her life as it was. I showed her another way."
Charlene said nothing.
"Charlene, I must say, I don't think you're terribly happy either."
Charlene let out a low chuckle. "Oooooh, no, you don't," she whispered. "No, no, no. You're not getting in my head, Dr. Lecter. You shut your mouth raht now or I'll blow your head off."
"Charlene, please." Dr. Lecter shifted uncomfortably and appeared ill at ease. "I'm not attempting to manipulate you. It seems I have…underestimated you." He supposed the admission would please her vanity, if indeed she had such things.
When she spoke her tone was one of bitter satisfaction. "Most people do, Dr. Lecter. Most people do. You hear the drawl and you think it means dumb."
"It's an error I have learned not to repeat," Dr. Lecter admitted. "Does Jack Crawford feel the same way?" Dr. Lecter would allow himself only this one more dig.
"Leave Mr. Crawford out of this," Charlene hissed. Then her head snapped up. "Wait a minute. Where's Aunt Clarice?"
"I don't know, Charlene. You've forced me to kneel here."
"Where the hell is she?" Charlene screamed. Then her head whipped back and forth, seeking out her aunt. She was nowhere to be seen. Not good.
"Aunt Clarice!" she shouted. "I know you're in the van. Git out here!"
There was no reply. In the van, Clarice Starling pressed the cheekpiece of the rifle to her face and prayed silently.
"Aunt Clarice! Git out here where I can see you!"
There was no reply. Charlene knew whatever her aunt was planning could not be good. She wanted Dr. Lecter free. Charlene could not let that happen. Mr. Crawford had said he would back her if she had to use deadly force. She couldn't see Aunt Clarice and knew she was up to no good. The monster might be on his knees now, but if Aunt Clarice set him free innocent people would die. Better that a murderer die than innocent people. She had no choice. She took a deep breath and forced her hands to stop trembling. She stared at the front sight. Beyond it was the crown of Dr. Hannibal Lecter's head. A squeeze of the trigger, and all the lights in that monster mind would go out once and for all.
"I'm not joking, Aunt Clarice! Get out here now! I'll fire!" She pronounced this last sentence all far. Dr. Lecter tensed in front of her.
Clarice Starling aimed her sniper rifle, and took a deep breath. She was aiming for Charlene's shoulder. Good and high, so the bullet would pass through and heal clean. Her niece did not deserve to be crippled for life. She prayed that it would do, that this was the right thing. But she had no choice. If the cops arrived, she would lose Dr. Lecter forever. Her finger began to take up slack on the trigger.
Charlene Starling aimed her .45 and took a deep, shuddering breath of her own. The muzzle of the .45 would blow the back of Dr. Lecter's head off. A single bullet would do what thirty agents had failed to do. She hadn't wanted to kill Dr. Lecter. But she had no choice. Her finger tightened on the trigger.
A single gunshot echoed across the flat field of the airport, the echo rolling back from the hills. A moment later, a second one followed.