Clarice started in the chair. She'd been sitting here for hours. Her back ached. Her bladder was full. The straps on the chair dug into her arms. It was an effective form of torture, she thought. The chair held her firmly in place. There was no escaping its embrace.
Her nose itched, and had been itching for a couple of hours now. That was driving her absolutely batshit. It was like Chinese water torture or something. Her arms had been taken away from her. Hell, her whole body had been taken away from her.
The night hadn't been all bad. She'd caught the news. How intoxicatingly powerful it was to be in touch with the world again. For the past week or so, she'd been locked in the cage. Even Alice's washing machine, ten feet away from her cage, was utterly unreachable. But it was only one-way; she could watch CNN or HBO or whatever she liked on Alice's TV, but she couldn't let anyone else know where she was. She was still a caged bird; all that had changed was that the blanket had been pulled away from her cage.
But still, being reminded that there was a world beyond her cage was great. Clarice had studied the psychology of hostages. It wasn't until now that she was aware of how weak and terrified someone held captive by another felt. How isolated she had been since her capture! Watching TV had reminded her that there was another world out there, one where your captor wasn't the only person you met, a world where you weren't constantly wondering if you were going to be killed before the end of the day.
A sound made her start, the motion arrested before it began by the straps holding her down. Alice Pierpont unlocked the door and entered the room. She wore a pretty fancy dress and looked good. It was tight in the right places. Looked like Alice had been manhunting, Clarice thought.
Her expression was somewhere between gleeful and positively manic. Her eyes gleamed. They might share Hannibal Lecter's strange maroon shade, but Dr. Lecter's glacial calm and targeted cruelties had never allowed for his to gleam like that. Clarice sensed a roller coaster coming.
"Reesey!" Alice said happily. "How are you? I suppose you have to go to the bathroom, don't you. You poor thing." She displayed a set of handcuffs. Even as manic as she seemed, she didn't forget those. She unstrapped Clarice and cuffed her, allowing her to stand. As she walked Clarice to the bathroom, she began talking a mile a minute.
"Oh my God, Reesey, he's here! I got him. He's gonna be mine, mine mine mine. Aren't you excited? What am I going to do with him first? He is so cute, Reesey, so completely cute and he's right here!"
Clarice wasn't exactly wild about going to the bathroom with Alice watching, but it was better to have Alice jazzed than have her upset about something. She observed the other woman calmly and took a deep breath. Stay calm, Clarice, calm and cool, maybe you can get her calmed down a bit without something violent happening.
"You've got Dr. Lecter?" she asked guardedly.
Amazingly, Alice giggled like a schoolgirl, clamping her hands over her mouth.
"No!" she said. "He's coming. We'll get to that."
"Then who?" Clarice asked.
Alice reached into her purse and withdrew a flat black case. Seeing it caused a sinking feeling in Clarice's stomach. Dramatically, Alice flipped the case open just as Clarice had countless times. The small plastic card did not bear Alice's picture; it bore a young man's.
"Josh!" Alice said excitedly. "Josh, Josh, Josh, Joshie, Josh! FBI Behavioral Science profilers! It's like Beanie Babies, you collect as many as you can." She clutched the ID to her chest and emitted a stream of giggles. The heels of her shoes clacked against the floor as she bounced up and down. "He's here and he's mine and he's just so cute you could die."
"Where is he?" Clarice asked cautiously.
"In the bedroom," Alice said. "He's sleeping now. We had a beautiful dinner and then drinks and I brought him back here."
Clarice swallowed. If Josh was here, how had he gotten here? Did he know? The hideous image of Josh showing up here on an innocent blind date, chatting with Alice while Clarice was held hostage below, arose in her mind. No, wait, Josh was too shy for something like that. For God's sake, the kid seemed so repressed she got the idea he'd be stuttering and speechless around an attractive woman.
"You had dinner with Josh?"
"Uh-huh, I did," Alice said. "I found out where his dad was staying and I hung around in the lobby and I waited for him to come down and I bumped into him and he offered to get some dinner and I said yes and off we went and it was this sweet romantic little restaurant and the ambience was just great and then I poured some GHB in his wine and he went right to sleep and I brought him back here and now I just don't know what to do with him first!" High red points of excitement burned in her cheeks. Another burst of hysterical giggles escaped her.
Don't have coffee with him, was the first thing that rose to Clarice's mind. Alice reached out and hauled her off the toilet. She began walking Clarice down the stairs to the basement.
"I'm putting you in your cage, now, Reesey. I know you hate it so I made it better. Joshie and I need our alone time, you know. Get-to-know-you time. Maybe when my father comes we can double date. I got you things for your cage! Look!"
Lying calmly in the cage were some things that hadn't been there before. There was a sleeping bag, a pillow, and a blanket. These were still partially in their original wrappings. Plastic wrap and cardboard was strewn around the cage. In the corner away from the door were two large plastic grocery bags. Clarice went into the cage gamely enough. Alice was in a rare mood, it seemed, and spoiling it would be a poor idea.
In the bags Clarice found further evidence that Alice must be on the manic side of things right now, just in case she had any reason to doubt that. Alice had decided that her time of deprivation must be over. There was an AM-FM radio and a battery. A twelve-pack of Coca-Cola. A huge plastic bottle of fruit juice. Four packages of Reese's peanut butter cups, another three package of Kit Kats, and two bags of Fritos. A bag of pretzels. A roll of paper towels. Nine cans of Pringles in different flavors. Somehow Alice had decided that Clarice lived to eat potato chips stored in a tennis ball can. A bulk pack of Slim Jims. Clarice turned from those in distaste. Those were nasty. A package of twelve ball-point Bic pens. What the hell am I going to do with those without any paper? Well, she'd have to wait on that; it seemed Alice had bought her a few rolls of toilet paper too.
"Thank you," Clarice said cautiously. "Where did you get all this?"
"Wal-Mart," Alice answered obligingly, and locked the door. Clarice wished for a phone more strongly than anything she'd ever wanted in her life. She tried to picture Alice motoring around a Wal-Mart late at night, dressed all fancy, filling the cart with manic glee. She seemed to have gone after the snack aisle with a snow shovel. Someone would have noticed that.
Still, she found herself intently grateful for the food. Alice left back up the stairs in a rustle of skirts and giggles. Clarice ripped open the Reese's peanut butter cups and wolfed one of them down. It was good, and she scarfed down another two before she knew what was happening. She held herself back; otherwise she'd eat it all and be stuck with the Slim Jims. A can of Coke served to allay her thirst.
After she'd had something to eat and spread out her sleeping bag and blanket, it occurred to her. She sat up and put her hands on the bars. Possibly she could scream for Alice, but Alice was likely to ignore her. She was off to play with her new boy-toy.
"Oh man," Clarice said. "Now what happens when Josh wakes up?"
…
The line at Customs was long, but it moved relatively quickly. Most of the tour had very standard Customs declarations. A hundred dollars or so in dreadful souvenirs. One by one, the returning vacationers trickled back into the United States. Dr. Hannibal Lecter shuffled and waited. He wore sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. Atop his head was a baseball cap labeled 'Buenos Aires es para amantes'. Under his sweatshirt was taped a bundle of money. This was necessary camouflage for whenever he came back to the United States. It had worked so far.
Eventually his time came. Dr. Lecter smiled and raised his eyebrows at the immigations official. He handed over an expertly forged passport and waited.
"How long were you abroad?" the bored official asked.
"Oh…uh…err…,right around two weeks, I guess," Dr. Lecter said diffidently, with a hayseed accent. "It's on the itinerary." He reached for a piece of paper stuck into the waistband of his pants.
"No, that's OK," the official said, and stamped something in the passport. He handed it back to Dr. Lecter. Ever so calmly, Dr. Lecter proceeded into the airport. He rolled his bag behind him. He was ever watchful. Uniforms attracted his eye and then passed off. What concerned him more were men in calm, workaday suits who might fall into place behind him. Those worried him more.
But they'd had the best chance to detain him at Customs, and they hadn't. Dr. Hannibal Lecter walked down to the car-rental desks and offered the driver's license of a second identity as well as a credit card. He got back a rental agreement and the keys to a tinny Chevy with no power at all. Definitely automotive slumming; nothing with the power he preferred.
As he drove, he pondered.
There were a few possibilities. The ad could be a trap. Perhaps Clarice was somewhere in a hotel, guarded by FBI agents. When he showed up they would put the cuffs on him. His rare mind flicked back to the ad he had placed. Hannah – I am on my way. Please tell me where I may find you. A. A. Aaron. There had been no answering reply in the Tribune as of yet.
Or was it real? Was Clarice in trouble? Perhaps she had been kidnapped in order to get access to him. In any case, he would have to be extremely careful.
It had been far easier with Mason Verger, Dr. Lecter decided. Then, he had known his foe. Now, he would have to track Clarice as best he could. Pity that he hadn't been able to get his hands on the FBI's files. He knew they would be tracking her case. As an active FBI agent, Clarice fell into their bailiwick.
He drove to Baltimore and checked into a hotel there. His suite was exquisite. In the morning, he would have to arm himself. That was easy; there were plenty of gun shows and knife shops he could patronize. For the time being, he ordered room service. The food was excellent. Tomorrow he would need to set about finding Clarice.
…
Consciousness came back slowly. His head hurt. He tried to shift position and found that he could not. He tried to bring his hand to his face and found he couldn't do that either.
Josh Graham groaned and shifted his head back and forth. He was lying on a bed. Soft cotton sheets covered him up to the chest. The room was dark. There was a figure sitting in a chair with him.
"What the…what happened?" Josh asked drowsily.
"You've been asleep for a few hours," the figure replied. "You should be all right, though. Now you're safe and with me."
Josh's head felt heavy and he let it fall back against the pillow. "I…I can't move."
"I've had to tie you down," the figure explained. "You need some time, Josh. Some time to come to grips with it all. You don't want her, Josh, I know you don't."
"Who?" His lips felt thick.
"Starling," the figure answered. "Oh, she's nice and all, but she's too old for you. She's downstairs." The figure reached across and turned on a light. Her eyes reflected it back at him in twin points. Redly. A qualm of fear transfixed him.
"Josh, it'll be all right," Alice Pierpont said sympathetically. She reached down to touch him and her hands shook. "We're meant to be together. It's fate." Her six-fingered hand hovered over his face as if she was afraid to make final contact with him.
He stared at the odd hand that had made the impressions on several corpses and shivered.
"You…you're the Six Fingered Killer," Josh gasped. A confused memory of seeing her hand in the Mustang crossed his mind.
"Only occasionally," Alice said, and smiled tenderly. Her eyes burned at him. "Now you're here, and everything will be all right. We'll be together…forever."