Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford, Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I won't make any money of it. Just borrowing them for a while. Lecter' s blue eyes belong to Anthony Hopkins, though (I'm not sure there's a copyright on this).
Chapter 6: Intertwined dreams
When Starling got home and checked her mail that evening, she did it with much apprehension. But then, when she had made sure no new message had been delivered, she was almost disappointed. "More than one assassin", "Random choice of victims", it did not make sense. Did not fit in the picture. She opened the fridge and to a can of beer. Maybe they were so desperately dry on this case she would accept any hint, whoever it may come from.
She thought again of her last conversation with Price and hoped she hadn't screwed up everything with him.
She prepared herself a light dinner and ate it while watching the evening news. Then she spent one hour on the phone with Ardelia - who for the thirteenth time in the last six month wanted to dump Brian ... These two were made for each other. Then she decided she had had enough for one day and went to bed.
Neil Lanterbach went to his living room and turned on the stereo. The first chords of Samuel Barber's Adagio started filling the room. He helped himself a glass of fine brandy, took off his shoes and laid on the couch. Using the remote control, he programmed the alarm of the stereo for 3:30 am. He had to leave early for his little trip to Washington DC if he wanted to be back in time for his afternoon class. Then he let the music invade his mind and slowly drive him to sleep, hoping his dreams would take him to her ... and hers to him.
Clarice woke up suddenly. It took her ten seconds to fully exit from her dream and realize where she was. She had a look at the clock on her bedside table: 3:30. Her body was covered with sweat. She sat on her bed and wiped her face with her hands. "God, what a dream !" She had spoken aloud. It seemed so real.
She quickly looked around. Everything was quiet in the room. Not a noise. Her old bedroom. "Dr Lecter," she thought " when are you going to leave me alone ?". It had been at least six months she had not dreamt of him. In the first weeks after the night at the lake house, what happened had haunted her almost every night. But then the nightmares had become rarer, and finally disappeared. And now ...
The dream was different though. She could hardly call it a nightmare. She was in Florence, walking the streets with hundreds of other tourists. And Hannibal Lecter was walking by her side, holding her elbow gently, showing her the beauties of the city. Though she had never been in Italy, the vision of the places was so clear it gave her a chill. It seemed so real.
She laid back in her bed, eyes wide opened, looking at the ceiling. She had to get back to sleep, or she would be a rag in the morning. Clarice Starling curled up on her side and closed her eyes. Ten minutes later she was sleeping, a smile on her face.
Neil Lanterbach was already awake when the alarm rang. He stood up and went to take a shower. He put on a pair of old jeans and a blue shirt. It was not even 4:00 when he started the engine of his black BMW.
The town was still asleep and he did not encounter any car before he reached the interstate. He sat more comfortably in the car seat and turned on the CD player. He had three hours of driving to reach Washington. He would be on time.
Clarice had felt back to sleep and did not hear the alarm of her clock when it rang at 6:00. Instead, she woke up half an hour later - half an hour too late. She jumped out of her bed swearing and rushed to the bathroom. She hated to be in hurry in the morning, but it was happening more and more often. When was the last time she could take a real breakfast before going to work, she did not even remember.
She grabbed a doughnut in the kitchen and went out.
He saw her coming out of the building at 7:30 sharp. She was late. She put her doughnut between her teeth while finishing putting on her jacket. "Clarice, " he said for himself " you should take better care of yourself. What kind of breakfast is that, umh ?".
She ran more than walked to her car, and two seconds later she was gone. He had parked his car on the other side of the street. He waited till she had turn at the corner and then started behind her. He had no hurry. He knew where she was going, and he could follow her daily itinerary with his eyes closed.
The traffic got denser as they approached the city downtown. On a few occasions he got close enough to see her eyes in the rear mirror of her car. He knew she was far too busy trying to find a way in the traffic to notice him.
When she finally turned left to enter the FBI premises parking lot, he went on straight, giving a last look at her car. 7:58. She had made it in the end. He parked his car three blocks away, a little after the post office he had spotted during his last visit. He made sure his car could not be seen from the inside and entered. It had just opened and only one woman was in the queue before him.
When his turn came, he handed the clerk a sheet of paper and gave her a fax number. He gave a smile to the lady behind the counter but she did not respond. She sure would not remember him in two minutes. He signed the receipt as John Starling and paid two dollars for the fax. He went out naturally, got to his car and left. He still had time. After having turned around the next block, he was back in front of the post office, but on the other side of the broad avenue. He parked. From where he was, he had a perfect view on both the FBI building and the post office. But the probability someone could notice him was close to zero.
The whole operation had not taken ten minutes.
To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.
Absolut