It was an abnormally cold day for August in the Caribbean. The palm trees
swayed wildly in the wind, frayed ends lashing wildly against the window.
The little boy sighed. He wondered if Mommy would get him sheep brains,
like the nice old man on the plane had given him. No, she would probably
think he was crazy. But those brains were really good. Maybe they sell
them at the supermarket. He pulled the covers up to his chin and floated
back to sleep.
On the other side of the island, in a rather expansive home situated far from the road, a man was seated on his deep green couch in a nicely furnished living room. Bach wafted through a radio in the kitchen. The man smiled and hummed along, but his eyes didn't smile as his eyes did. Hannibal raised his fingers, counting the beats, slowly, waving his fingers to the music.
There were five loud raps to the door, loud enough to be heard over the incoming storm. He sighed and turned the dial down on the stereo, then moved to the door and unlocked it. behind it stood a tanned man in a dark suit, holding a leather briefcase. When the man in the suit saw Hannibal, he immediately began to talk. "Good afternoon, sir. My name is Michael Flanners, and I was wondering if you were interested in a timeshare in the beautiful island of Antigua." The salesman gave the man a flashy smile and a brochure. He saw that Mr. Flanners had arrived in a white Volvo, one of the earlier models. He was alone. Good.
"Why yes, Mr. Flanners, I would be very happy to see your brochures. Please, come in." Hannibal smiled coldly, but the salesman missed the dangerous glint in the potential customer's eyes. "Mr. Flanners, would you like to sit down for dinner?" Mr. Flanners looked at him strangely, but declined politely: "Oh, no, it's all right, I already ate. As I was saying-" "No, Mr. Flanners. I insist." Mr. Flanners turned around, about to protest further, but he suddenly stood there, mouth open, as his eyes dulled and he collapsed. "Come now, it's very impolite to say no to dinner, isn't it, Mr. Flanders?" Hannibal released the needle of sedative and disposed of it in the kitchen trash barrel. He walked back into the living room and turned the Yamaha up a couple notches. Bach at his finest.
Hannibal took a sharp steak knife from a kitchen drawer. His blue eyes glinted.
"What do you say to liver?"
On the other side of the island, in a rather expansive home situated far from the road, a man was seated on his deep green couch in a nicely furnished living room. Bach wafted through a radio in the kitchen. The man smiled and hummed along, but his eyes didn't smile as his eyes did. Hannibal raised his fingers, counting the beats, slowly, waving his fingers to the music.
There were five loud raps to the door, loud enough to be heard over the incoming storm. He sighed and turned the dial down on the stereo, then moved to the door and unlocked it. behind it stood a tanned man in a dark suit, holding a leather briefcase. When the man in the suit saw Hannibal, he immediately began to talk. "Good afternoon, sir. My name is Michael Flanners, and I was wondering if you were interested in a timeshare in the beautiful island of Antigua." The salesman gave the man a flashy smile and a brochure. He saw that Mr. Flanners had arrived in a white Volvo, one of the earlier models. He was alone. Good.
"Why yes, Mr. Flanners, I would be very happy to see your brochures. Please, come in." Hannibal smiled coldly, but the salesman missed the dangerous glint in the potential customer's eyes. "Mr. Flanners, would you like to sit down for dinner?" Mr. Flanners looked at him strangely, but declined politely: "Oh, no, it's all right, I already ate. As I was saying-" "No, Mr. Flanners. I insist." Mr. Flanners turned around, about to protest further, but he suddenly stood there, mouth open, as his eyes dulled and he collapsed. "Come now, it's very impolite to say no to dinner, isn't it, Mr. Flanders?" Hannibal released the needle of sedative and disposed of it in the kitchen trash barrel. He walked back into the living room and turned the Yamaha up a couple notches. Bach at his finest.
Hannibal took a sharp steak knife from a kitchen drawer. His blue eyes glinted.
"What do you say to liver?"