Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Jack Crawford and Paul Krendler do not belong to me, but to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement intended. I don't see how I could make any money of it anyway. I'm just borrowing them for a ride. I'll turn them back. I promise ... Or maybe not ... Some phrases have borrowed too, but take it as a tribute to the author.

Notes: As usual, THANK YOU to the reviewers of previous chapters. Took me some time to upload this one, but it's a lonnnng one. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 6

Clarice did not know there could be so many estate agencies in a single state. It had been two days she and Mike Simpson were systematically controlling each of them. No one had recognized Lecter so far, but the list was still long.

Her feet were hurting. She was tired and hungry. It was past 10:00 pm and Simpson had gone home. She was alone in his office now. She wanted to check on the web the companies that were offering estates on-line. That was another possibility. "Where are you, Dr. Lecter ?" she spoke out loud. She could not decide what upset her more: the fact that as an FBI agent she failed to find him, or the fact that he did not contact her. She sighed. "Starling, you're out of your mind" she whispered. It was Saturday night, and she had deserved a day off. She shut down Simpson' s computer and went out.

The cold air outside revived her. While walking to her car, she started making plans for Sunday. She would start with a good jogging to evacuate the tension. Then she could drop by the market and get fresh food to cook herself a real lunch. She needed a change from all the canned goods and sandwiches she swallowed during the week. Then maybe she would take a book and go to Paterson park. If it rained, she would just curled in her couch to read.

The traffic was light at this hour and she was home in less than fifteen minutes. She took her mail and climbed the stairs to her apartment. She put some water to boil for the pasta and went to the sitting room. She turned on the stereo and went to sit in the armchair to open her mail.

The last thing Clarice remembered was the pressure of a wet tissue on her mouth and the feeling of nausea. Then she lost consciousness.


Hannibal had been waiting in Clarice' s apartment since half past five. It had given him the time to look around and immerse himself into her life. He had opened all the closets and smelt her clothes. He had read old letters and explored the content of her computer hard disk. The poorness of what he found in the fridge really upset him. "You should take better care of yourself, Clarice. This is not even food, as I understand the definition."

Finally, hidden between a pile of old copies of magazines, he had found a photo album. Her whole life was summed up in these few pages. The first picture was one of her in her mother' s arms when she was a baby; the last one was taken when she graduated at the FBI academy. Nothing since ... as if her life had been interrupted.

The photo that moved him more though was one of Clarice with her father. She must have been seven or eight years old. She was already very pretty, even if a little bit too skinny. She looked happy at that time. What got him was the intensity of her eyes when looking at her father. There was so much love in them, so much admiration and trust. Would she ever look at him with these eyes ?

At around 8 pm, he switched off the light and hid behind the thick curtain at the sitting room window. And he started to wait in silence. The handkerchief and the little bottle of chloroform were ready. All he had had to do was to be patient. And this he was.


It had been easy. Sitting in the armchair, she was turning her back to him. She did not hear him approaching. He caught her by surprise and she did not even fight. Now she was peacefully asleep. Her breathing was regular and he checked her pulse. Everything was all right.

He went to the kitchen to stop the gas under the pan. The door keys were on the table. He took them and put them in his pocket. Then in her bedroom ... In a little bag he found under her bed he packed a few clothes and her toilet bag. He also picked a blanket from a cupboard and went back to her.

He delicately wrapped her in the blanket. The night was fresh and he did not want her to catch a cold. Then he put the bag on his shoulder and gently carried Clarice in his arms. Her head was resting against his shoulder and he could feel her breathing against his neck. He smiled.

The back street where he had parked his car was empty. He settled Clarice in the Jaguar and locked her safety bell. After ensuring she would be comfortable, he reached the driver seat.

He drove home carefully. From time to time he had a glance at the woman next to him. He needn't worry, she would be sleeping for a few hours. She looked so much younger when she was asleep.

When they arrived home, he carried her to the guest bedroom. He laid her on the large bed and sat next to her. He did not undress her. He brushed away a curl of hair that had dropped on her eyes. He stayed there a few minutes, watching her sleep. Then he went to his own room and went to bed. Sleep came easily that night. He slowly dozed off with a sigh of contentment.


As Clarice opened her eyes she did not recognized her environment. She sat up in the bed a little bit too abruptly and the pain in her head made her blink. She was feeling slightly dizzy and it take her a few seconds to recollect her senses.

The bedroom was large and artfully furnished. "What the hell am I doing here ?" Then the memory of the previous evening came back to her. She had lost consciousness. No, someone had drugged her. But that was yesterday night. Now she could see the sun light through the large window curtain. How long had she been here ? And where was 'here', in the first place ? She checked herself and saw she was not hurt. She got up.

"Was it you, Dr. Lecter ?" she asked silently. Of course it was him. It could only be him. To her surprise, the thought reassured her a bit. She looked around in the room and saw her bag on a little coffee table. She got closer and opened it. Apparently he had planned she would stay here for a while.

She went to the door. It opened easily. She had a look in the corridor: no one. She headed to the stairs and went down. When she arrived at the ground floor she heard some noise coming from behind a half opened door. She approached it silently and had a look inside.

He was there standing in the kitchen, his back turned to her, apparently busy cooking something. He was humming something but not loud enough so she could understand what. She pushed the door opened but did not enter the room. He heard it and turned his face to her.

" - Clarice, good morning.
- Good morning, Dr. Lecter.
- It's not even seven, you could have slept longer. After all, it's Sunday.
- What am I doing here, Dr. Lecter ?"

He did not miss the determination in her look, but it was to early to give her an answer. He seemed to think about it for a moment. "Explanations will come in due times, Clarice. But first, I think you should have a good breakfast. I'm afraid you skipped dinner yesterday and I feel a little bit guilty about it." As she did not answer or move he went on: "Are you going to spend whole day in the doorway ? Please, come in and sit. Your eggs are almost ready."

She stepped in and without a word went to sit at the table he had dressed for her.

" - That's better." he said. "Now tell me, did you sleep well ?
- You ensured I would, didn't you ?
- Yeah. Sorry about the chloroform, but I did not think you would have accepted a normal invitation. You may still feel slightly nauseous but it will disappear when you eat something."

He turned back to his cooking.

" - Where are we, Dr. Lecter ?" He gave her an amused look.
" - Home, Clarice. This is where we are. I mean my home, of course. The one you've been desperately searching for for the last two days.
- You have followed me ...
- Not exactly. I was ... how could I phrase it ... keeping an eye on chief inspector Simpson. But I must confess that when I saw you with him, my interest grew.
- I see. Then you know that the reason why I was looking for you was to arrest you.
- I do, Clarice."

He turned back to her and came closer to the table. He was carrying a plate with fried bacon and eggs that made her salivate and a glass of home-made orange juice. He laid the plate and the glass in front of her. For the first time she saw the prosthetic on his left hand replacing his thumb and forefinger. If he saw her gaze, he did not say anything.

He poured hot coffee into two mugs and came to sit in front of her. " Please, eat while it's hot." She took the fork and took a first mouthful to her lips. It was delicious and she really was hungry. She hastily took some more. After a moment she raised her face from the plate. Lecter was sipping his coffee, staring at her, a gentle smile on his face. There was not a trace of mockery in this smile. She felt her cheeks grow red.

" Don't worry." he said. "I can make some more if needed. Or maybe I can prepare some toasts for you ? I've got fresh bread and strawberry marmalade, I believe." She knew she should have sent him to hell, but the proposal was too much tempting and she could not resist it. She just nodded. He stood up and started to slice some bread. She finished her eggs without a word.

He brought her the toasts and went back to sit.

" - Thank you, Dr. Lecter.
- You're welcome, Clarice." She bit in the first slice.
" - Am I ?" she asked. "What for ? Now that I'm eating my breakfast like a good girl, maybe you can tell me what I'm doing here ?
- Well, there are a few things I wanted to talk to you about. And I thought you would enjoy a day at the countryside.
- Things ? What things ?" He chuckled.
" - You never slow down, do you ?" He stood up. "Take your time to finish your breakfast, Clarice. Then, if you want to ... refresh a bit, you will find everything you need in your room. I'll be waiting for you."

He headed to the door. As he was about to leave the kitchen, he turned back to her: "Oh, I forgot. All the alarms of the house are on, Clarice. And I disconnected the phone myself. I thought you should know." He winked at her and left. Even if the bars were made of gold, it was still a prison.


One hour later she was back at ground floor, fresh and ready. She found him in the sitting room, reading a book in front of the chimney. He raised his head as he heard her enter in the room.

" - You look beautiful, Clarice.
- Thank you, Dr. Lecter. So, I'm ready. What's the plan ?"

He smiled at her. For reasons she could not have explained, she was starting to like his smile, and the way he was looking at her. She wasn't the least scared. Puzzled yes, but not scared. She had no idea on why he had taken her to his place, or how the whole thing would end, but strangely she was convinced he would not harm her and would let her go in the end. He stood up and took her hand in his. The contact made her jump. He immediately let her hand go. "Don't worry." he whispered "I just want to show you something. Come with me."

They went back to the kitchen. He took a little key from his pocket and unlocked the door that was next to the fridge. To find herself again with Hannibal Lecter in a kitchen and close to a fridge made Clarice feel slightly uneasy. Before he opened the door, he turned to her and said: "From now on we have to remain silent, Clarice. I insist. This is for your own safety, OK ?". She nodded.

She followed him down a spiral staircase. The ceiling was low and he had to bend his head. They arrived to what was a vast cellar. He switched on the light. Along the wall on their left were stored hundreds of bottles of wine. On the right, shelves were covered with food. He could probably remain there for months before he would starve, she thought. The temperature was fine down there. It was probably heated. They crossed the first room and reached a little corridor. It was about ten ft long and was leading to a closed door. He turned to her and put his finger on his lips, to remind her to be silent. Then he opened and passed the door. She followed him.

A ray of daylight was coming down from a small basement window. It was enough for her to see. Two men were sitting against the wall, their ankles and wrists tightly tied with a rope, a blindfold on their eyes. Clarice opened her mouth with surprise but Lecter put his hand on it just in time to stop her from talking. The contact of the prosthetic on her cheek was cold and she turned her head to him, her eyes wide opened. His blue eyes were staring at her with such intensity she felt they were piercing her brain. She nodded to make him know she had understood and he immediately released the pressure.

The two men had heard the noise and they both sat straight. "Hey ! There's someone there ? I can hear you !" the younger man uttered. Apart from being tied up, they seemed to be in good physical conditions. "Is that you, Lecter ? Why don't you answer ?" the man continued.

" - Doctor Lecter, if you please, Mr. Dubrowski. Yes, it's me. I just wanted to be sure everything was all right with you, gentlemen.
- All right ! What the fuck do you care ! Remove that blindfold immediately so that I can see your dirty face !
- Don't be rude, Mr. Dubrowski. That will lead you nowhere. I'm afraid you're in no position to give me orders. Are you OK, Mr. Sogliato ?
- Yes, Dr. Lecter. I'm fine.
- Good. Now I'll leave you alone. I'll come back with your lunch in a few hours. Good day."

Lecter showed the door to Clarice and they both went out. He closed the lock and she followed him upstairs. Once they were back in the kitchen and the door was closed Clarice felt free to speak again. She could not believe what she had just seen.

" - They're alive !" she almost shouted. He just nodded. "Why the hell did you tell me you killed them ?
- I never said they were dead, Clarice. I only asked what you believed I did. Apparently you came to the conclusion I had killed them, but you arrived there alone.
- For Christ sake, to what other conclusion could I have arrived ! You're not particularly known for having been merciful in the past.
- Maybe I'm getting older ..."

She calmed down a bit. She stared at him trying to understand but no emotion could be read on his face.

" - But you could have told me. You could have told me that night in the alley, or on the phone later. Why ?" He grinned.
- Why didn't I kill them or why didn't I tell you ?
- Both !"

He seemed to seriously think of it, as if it was the first time he was really asking himself the question.

" - I guess I thought you knew me better, Clarice. Or at least I wanted to find out. It's true I've killed before but ...
- Never without a good reason. Or what you consider as a good reason." she interrupted him. The smile came back on his face.
" - Yes. I admit our value systems may be a little bit different. Anyway, I have currently no reason to deny these two gentlemen their lives. Though I must confess Mr. Dubrowski, as you may have noticed in your brief encounter, is somewhat lacking of courtesy. I put it on account of his education as the heir of one of the biggest fortunes of the country. I've always considered rich people should feel more responsible for this world. But over the years, I noticed with sadness that this opinion of mine is hardly shared. What do you think, Clarice ?
- I believe everybody should behave correctly, rich or poor.
- Yeah. You're probably right. But enough with philosophical considerations. Today is a beautiful day. It's a pity to stay inside. Would you like to have a walk in the garden ?"

From Clarice point of view, things were getting weirder and weirder. She was an FBI agent, in charge of finding and arresting one of the most wanted criminals in America, and she was quietly discussing with him in his ... manor. But the more difficult to admit for her was that, in a way, she was enjoying it. Of course, she would have felt much better if she had had the control of the situation, if she had found him instead of the other way around. But his company was pleasant, almost reassuring. "Clarice Starling, you're nut !" she thought.

And now he was offering a walk in the garden ! After all, why not ! As matter stood, she could very well visit the garden too.

" - I thought you wanted to talk to me, Dr. Lecter.
- I do. But we can talk while walking.
- OK."


They went out. As a matter of facts, the so-called garden was more like a park. Although most of the trees had lost their leaves, it was still splendid. They started walking in silence. As Lecter did not seem eager to speak, Clarice started.

" - So, was I getting closer ?" she asked. He raised his right eyebrow as if surprised by the question.
" - What ?
- In my investigations. Was I getting warmer ?
- Not really, I'm sorry. But I appreciated your efforts. Michael Simpson impressed me too, I should say.
- He's a nice guy. And quite competent.
- Did you like working with him ?
- Yes.
- More than with your FBI colleagues ?
- Umh ... David is OK. David Scomb ... he's been my partner in the last months.
- I see. In the new unit you're working in, right ?
- That's it. Have you been following my career, Dr. Lecter ?
- As much as I could, yes. But you were right the other night. I had to leave the country for a while."

The winter sun was shining generously, but the air was cold and made her chill. Hannibal stopped and removed his jacket. "Would you permit me ?" he asked, and without waiting for her answer he wrapped her shoulder in the piece of clothes. Clarice felt immediately warmer. "Thank you" she said. He nodded.

She was intrigued. He was generally a little bit more talkative. He had started again walking slightly before her, his hands in his pockets. She caught up with him and passed her arm in the loop formed by his elbow, her hand resting on his forearm. He startled and looked at her.

" - So, I'm still able to surprise you !" she said. And then she laughed. He remained very serious but she saw he was not upset.
" - You are, and you've always been, Clarice."


For sure she had taken him by surprise. The contact of her hand on his arms had almost burnt him. It was the first time she had spontaneously touched him.

" - So, Clarice, You're ... back on the Lecter case, so to speak ?
- Yes.
- Did you ask for it or was it a decision from Jack Crawford ? Is old Jackie boy so desperate he had to call on you again ?
- Well, kind of mix. Crawford wanted me out. But when he found out I had been to Mc Dougall 's place, he understood I wouldn't stay out. So he arranged a temporary assignment for me.
...
- How did he find out for Mc Dougall ? Certainly not by agent Finch.
- Mc Dougall 's lawyer called the FBI."

Hannibal looked at her, surprised. So this is what Crawford had told her. And she had believed him.

" - Isn't it strange that Mc Dougall complained ?
- Umh. Yes, I suppose. But the guy is not really 'normal', you know.
- I see. So this is how you came to trace my whereabouts.
- I've done that before, Dr. Lecter. This is my job, remember ? And I intend to go on with it ... That is, as soon as you let me go, of course.
- I have no doubt of it, Clarice."

He took her to a wooden bench under one of the ancient oaks. They sat.

" - How did you feel when you read the book, Clarice ?
- Disgusted mainly. Then angry I suppose.
- Umh ... I guess it could be called a masterpiece, couldn't it ?
- I guess yes. If there was a prize for gathering the biggest amount of rubbish in one book, this one would be a serious candidate.
- That's nicely put." he said. "Have you ever read any of Mr. Mc Dougall previous production ?
- No. But I must confess I'm not really eager to. Did you ?
- As a matter of facts, no. I must say I have not been able to find any copy of his previous work.
- From what I heard on TV, the guy is pretty famous for tabloid stuff.
- So they say. Isn't it curious that none of it can be found in any of the bookshops I visited ? One could think that with the publicity made around 'Hannibal Lecter - Anatomy of a Monster', they would have taken the occasion to sell his previous books as well. That is something publishing house usually do."

She looked at him with her eyes sparkling. Hannibal almost shivered with pleasure. She had the eyes of a child who knows he's going to put a good joke and enjoys the effects in advance. But what he saw in it was that she was more relaxed than she had ever been in his presence. She did not look in the least nervous ... nor scared. And that simple fact pleased him more than he could have imagined.

"Perhaps they planned to." she started mischievously. "But may I remind you that his publisher is currently locked in your cellar, Dr. Lecter. That probably influenced a bit his company strategy, don't you think ?"

He chuckled and took her hand in his. This time she did not react to the unusual contact of the artificial fingers. The sensation overwhelmed him. However, he knew he could not force her to where he wanted her to go. She would have to come to her own conclusions by herself. It was the only way she could get convinced ... and it was not going to be easy. But he was ready to work for it, and he would wait the time she needed.

" - I am happy you did not loose your sense of humor, Clarice. I appreciate that.
- Thank you, Dr. Lecter. But I was not entirely joking ... What do you intend to do with them ?
- What do you think I intend to do, Clarice ?
- No. I'm not guessing anymore.
...
- I have no plan to harm them, Clarice, if it can reassure you. I just need to keep them with me a little bit longer, until I can move further. Then, when I don't need them anymore, I will let them go. I promise."

She was looking at him very seriously now. "Why should I believe you ?" she asked, keeping her eyes locked on his. He let go off her hand but kept staring at her. "Did I ever lie to you, Clarice ?" He was keeping his voice down. As she did not answer, he went on: "Think, Clarice. In our previous encounters, did I ever cheat on you ? Can you think of one occasion in the past where I haven't been honest with you ? Answer me now." She broke the eye contact and looked at her shoes.

" - You did not always tell me the whole truth, Dr. Lecter.
- That is true. There has been things I could not - or did not want to, I admit - tell you. But when I told you something, wasn't it true."

She took some time to answer, as if she was trying to remember. Her hesitation was hurting his feelings, but he knew that was not something easy for her to admit. Finally she raised her face.

" - Yes it was, Dr. Lecter. Is this the answer you wanted from me ?
- I am not wanting any particular answer from you, Clarice. All I want is you to think about it. See if you can trust me.
- Trust you ?" she had raised her voice and was looking at him in disbelief now. He smiled.

" - Yes. Trust me. Why not ? What sounds so awkward about it ?
- Dr. Lecter, no matter how charming you can be when you want to, you are one of the most wanted criminals of this country. You have killed people, this is not just my imagination.
- But you admit I never deceived you so far, don't you ?
- Yes, but ...
- Could you, honestly, say the same about your friends at the FBI ?"

She was about to answer spontaneously but she suddenly stopped. She had almost shouted her last words but now she was just looking truly puzzled. The 'charming' part certainly had not escaped Hannibal, and that comforted him in going further.

" - What do you mean ?" she asked.
" - What do I mean ? I thought it was obvious, Clarice. Didn't Jack Crawford use you eleven years ago when he sent you to me ? Has he been frank enough with you to tell you the real reason why he wanted my cooperation ? What about Clint Pearsall ? Do you really believe that when he sent you to Mason Verger he did not know why Mason had asked for you ? Do you think he was not aware that the old fool had planned to use you to bait me ?"

Clarice remained silent. Hannibal paused for a few second to give her time to register his words. Then he started again: "What about the late Mr. Krendler, Clarice ? Did he hesitate one second to trade you to Verger, do you think ? And when he did, Clarice, who was there in the FBI to support you, umh ? Pearsall ? Your colleagues ? Old Jackie boy, maybe ? Did any of them help you, Clarice ?" He saw her cheeks redden a bit. He softened his voice further:

" - Did they, Clarice ?
- No." she said so low he could hardly hear her.
" - But you trust them, don't you ? You trusted them then and you trust them now. Tell me, Clarice, what makes you so sure Jack Crawford is not again using you to get to me ?
- He's not.
- Why, Clarice ? He manipulated you in the past, why can't he do it again today ?
- He did not know me back then."

She had said the last sentence very quickly, her voice sounding almost childish.

" - Do you think that would stop him, Clarice ?" Hannibal went on. "It's been almost twenty years that Jack is trying to lock me in. He once made it. Well ... Will Graham did. But I escaped. I am the only failure in his career, Clarice. A perfect career, if it was not for Hannibal the Cannibal Lecter. Do you truly believe he would hesitate to use anything he could to remove this stain ? Even if he likes you, Clarice - and I think he does, in his own way - would he spare you to catch me ?
- Jack Crawford is not like that, Dr. Lecter. You may be right about Pearsall, and Paul Krendler was really an asshole, but not Crawford. He's not like them.
- Really ?
...
- Do you know anything I don't, Dr. Lecter ?
...
- Even if I did, Clarice, would you believe me ? I don't think so. No matter what they have done to you, you still trust them. Not for what they are, but for the institution they belong to. The institution you have dedicated your life to. And no matter how honest I've been with you in the past, you won't trust me, will you, Clarice ? Oh, I don't blame you. Believe me, I understand. They represent what you have always believed in. I am the enemy."

He knew there could not be an answer. But he also knew he had put the doubt in her mind. She would have to do the rest of the way on her own. But he trusted her. She was smart enough and strong enough to do it.

"It's getting late, now. I'd better start preparing lunch, or our guests might complain." He stood up and she followed him. They made their way to the house in silence, each of them lost in his own thoughts.


She saw him reactivate the alarm as soon as they were in. He put the remote control back in the pocket of his trousers. "I must abandon you for about one hour, Clarice. But please consider this house as yours."

She went to the sitting room and sat in an armchair by the window. She was still troubled by what Lecter had told her. Had he been playing with her again ? Was he just dangling her ? Someway, he sounded sincere. She hadn't heard in his tone the subtle irony that there had been when she first met him in the dungeon.

Why had he told her these things ? He and Crawford had never been best friends, but ... The anger started growing in her. What was he thinking ? That she had never put those questions to herself ? That she was too stupid to question the motivations of her colleagues or superiors ? That she was too naive to realize the FBI was not this temple of rectitude she imagined when she was a kid ?

Damn you, Dr. Lecter ! I'm no more the country bumpkin I was in Baltimore. I've grown up. You'd better not forget that.

She sighed. Who did she think she was fooling ? Of course he was right. She was as naive now as she was at the beginning.

She had no idea how long she had been sitting there when he appeared in the doorway.

" - Lunch is ready, Clarice. Are you hungry ?
- A little, Dr. Lecter." She followed him to the dining room. The table was dressed beautifully. "Are we celebrating something ?
- A quiet Sunday lunch in good company. Isn't that enough ?"

She smiled and sat on the chair he had drawn for her.

" - What is it ?" she asked looking at her plate.
" - Nothing you would disapprove of, believe me. It is called Bouchées à la Reine. First time you have some ?
- To my knowledge, yes.
- I hope you'll like it."

He wen to sit in front of her. "Bon appétit." They did not talk much during the first course. The food was delicious. And the wine measured up. When they had finished, he took their plates to the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with a long dish. "I thought you would trust me more on fish than on meet." he said. She nodded.

The Truite aux Amandes was served with a fine white Bordeaux. She did not know if the wine was to be considered responsible for that, but Clarice started relaxing a bit.

" - Why is it so important for you, Dr. Lecter ?
- I beg your pardon ?
- Mc Dougall' s book. It is not the first time someone write this kind of stuff about you. As you once wrote to me, it never bothered you before. Why is it different this time ?"

He delicately wiped his mouth and put his napkin on the table.

" - What makes you think it is important to me ?
- Well ... You kidnapped two men ... And you did not kill them. From what you told me, you have no intention to do so. That makes me think you have something else in mind, that you're preparing something.
- Sounds logical.
- So, what is it ? Will you tell me, Doctor ?" As he did not answer, she went on: "You said you wanted to be honest with me. Now, you brought me here to talk to me. I think I deserve it."

His blue eyes narrowed and concentrated on her, as if she was reading her mind. Clarice did not loose composure and stared on at him. Finally he started speaking.

" - It is more ... personal this time, Clarice.
- In what sense ?
- The things that were written. The ... topics that were tackled, so to speak. Lost in that incredible amount of rubbish, as you called it, there were things more personal.
- Mc Dougall is convinced you did not run after him because you respect him, because he is the first person who has understood you."

Hannibal chuckled.

" - Is this what he told you ?
- Yes. And he seemed very serious about it. Is this what you mean by 'more personal', Doctor ?
- No. I assure you it is not what I meant.
- Then what is it ? From what I remember, Mc Dougall mentioned the crimes you've been judged for - and found guilty for - and the crimes you and I know you have actually committed. The rest, apart from the chapter dedicated to me, is nothing else but a cheap psychoanalysis of your motivations. Even a child would understand the guy does not know what he's talking about. And don't tell me you care about the part of the population who believed in what he wrote.
- I don't."

Clarice noticed his face had run paler. She was troubled. As far as she could remember, she had never seen Hannibal Lecter uncomfortable with anything before. Her curiosity got all the more aroused.

" - What was it, Dr. Lecter ?" He sighed.
" - This book has been specifically written to piss me off, Clarice." It was the first time she heard him use such a coarse language but she did not interrupt him. "Some ... elements were introduced in this purpose. Things very few people could know about.
- Like what ?"

He stood up and went to the window, turning his back to her. It took some time before he spoke again, but Clarice felt she should not intervene.

" - Like Mischa." he finally said. The name was vaguely familiar to Clarice, but for an instant she could not make the connection. "My sister." His voice was cold. Clarice remembered something she had read in his FBI file, then what she had read in Mc Dougall' s book. "They wrote I killed her and ... ate her after.
- Doctor Lecter, this is the kind of stuff these people feed on and ...
- NO."

He had shouted. Clarice froze. He was still looking through the window. When he started again, his voice was low but the tension was obvious.

" - She was only four years old. She had never done a mean thing in her life. How could ...
- ...
- I did not do that, Clarice.
- ... I don't believe you did. And I don't think people believed ...
- I don't care what people believe, Clarice."

He had turned to her. What she read in his eyes was not anger but rage. Cold and determined rage. For the first time since she knew him, Clarice understood the fear most people felt about Hannibal Lecter. She knew his rage was not aimed at her, but she could not help being scared.

" - Don't you understand ? There are limits to what they can use, and they're gonna learn it.
- They ?"

He grinned at her.

" - They, Clarice. I thought you could understand. But I made a mistake. Nobody can.
- Dr. Lecter, ...
- It's better if we leave it here. This little comedy has lasted long enough.
- Dr. Lecter, if I said something that ...
- No you didn't. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. Take your things in your bedroom. I will drive you home."

His voice had gone down. The fury had left him as brusquely as it had come. But his face was inscrutable. Clarice understood it was no use discussing. She went up and packed her bag. While going down the stairs, she couldn't help feeling uneasy, as if she had missed something but was unable to understand what.


Once they were in his car, he handed her a black blindfold. "It's not comfortable but has less unpleasant effects than the chloroform." he said. She took it and settled it on her eyes. These were the last words she heard from him until the Jaguar stopped in front of her apartment. She felt his hands in her hair, untying the blindfold.

He looked tired but his face was relaxed now. He unlocked the door.

" - Here you are, Clarice. Home.
- Thank you.
- I suggest you take some rest now. You're likely to be busy in the next days. I mean ... looking for me.
- Yes. Dr. Lecter ...
- I know, Clarice. Go now."

She had opened the door and was about to get out when he called her back.

" - Clarice !
- Yes ?
- I'm sorry about what happened at lunch ... I did not want to scare you.
- I understand.
- Good bye, Clarice.
- Good bye Dr. Lecter."

She stepped out and did not turn back. She heard the car leave. She climbed up the stairs and opened her door. She dropped her bag in the hall and went to the sitting room. She let herself fall in the sofa and started to cry freely.


To be continued ... Thanks for reading. If you want to leave a review, feel free. If you don't, feel free the same.
Absolut.