Disclaimer: The
characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling and Barney (plus
anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they
are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn
them back when I've finished. No copyright
infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't
sue me.
A/N: Thanks to the reviewers of the first chapters. Short chapter but next one is coming soon. I haven't decided yet the degree of romance there will be at the end, FantaC. So, who knows ...
Chapter 3
Hannibal Lecter was lying in the dark, his wrists and ankles solidly fixed to the bed with strong ropes. Whoever did not known him would have thought he was asleep. His breathing was slow and regular, his body perfectly still. But he was not sleeping.
He was currently exploring the rooms of his memory palace and trying to distract his mind from the pain in his body. And he was partially succeeding. After a while, it became bearable and he could relax further and start to examine his situation.
His attempt to escape had been hazardous. His chances of success were rather poor, but he had had to try. Before they took him away, he had profited that he was alone with one of them to bite his ear and escape his grasp. He had managed reaching the main door and go out, but he did not make more than a dozen yards outside before one of the criminals followed him and shot him in the leg.
He had fallen to the floor and just had the time to throw the knife he had spirited away from his keeper during the fight a few inches away. Then the three men were on him. They had kicked him violently in the head and in his chest. The man he had bitten the ear was raging and his companion had to stop him from killing their prey.
Hannibal had lost consciousness. When he woke up he was lying in the back of a van. One of the men was fixing a tourniquet on his leg to try to stop the bleeding, but the blood loss had been important before he succeeded.
Before they arrived at their destination, the man had put a black cotton bag on Hannibal' s head to blind him. The van had finally stopped. One of the kidnappers had carried him on his back for what had seemed to Hannibal like five minutes. Then he had found himself on a bed. They had tied him up and removed the bag. The room was dark and he could only distinguish the outline of two men. They had rapidly come out and he had heard the click of the lock.
Hannibal had not seen either of the men again. He could not say how long he had been lying here. He was sure he had lost consciousness a few times but had no reference to measure time. As he was starting getting hungry, he figured out at least one day had passed since his arrival. He would have killed for a glass of water. He took a deep breath, but the pain in his chest made him grin.
He tried to make a little inventory ... The bullet had entered his left thigh and broken his femur. He was almost sure the bullet was still inside his leg. He probably had a few broken ribs and they had kicked him hard on the back of his head. From the headache and his losses of consciousness, he could tell he most likely had a cranial trauma.
Hannibal tried to review the possibilities. Getting rid of the knife might not have been such a brilliant idea after all. They did not search him again after the fight. So he could have kept it. Besides, the chances that Jason found it were pretty thin. And even if he did, how could he know what to do with it ? He'd probably think it was his, staff it in a drawer and forget about it. Of course, the fact that they had not killed him, and even cured his wound, was a positive sign. It meant there was a chance they plan to let him go after the ransom was paid. The only problem was that the ransom could never be paid. Jason could not access his money and there was no way a sixteen years old kid could gather four million dollars on his own.
Had he called the police ? Hannibal was almost certain he did not. As he was certain Jason had understood the meaning of the note the kidnappers made him write.
Jason ... Hannibal was not afraid to die. He had lived a pretty full and dangerous life and had got used to the idea. He was not regretting anything he had done. But Jason was another matter. The kid was bright but yet too young to be left on his own.
Although he had never planned to have children, Hannibal loved his son. He had tried to give him everything he could, considering the circumstances of course. He had sent him to the best schools and had furthered himself his education. Jason had made him proud. What would become of him now that his father would no more be there to keep an eye on him ? Alone in the dark, Hannibal Lecter could confess this was really hurting.
Hannibal knew that his only chance to live was to find a way to escape his kidnappers alone. He could not count on anybody on earth to help him. But right now, there was nothing he could do. So he decided to try to rest. He may need all his strength later.
To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ...
Absolut.
A/N: Thanks to the reviewers of the first chapters. Short chapter but next one is coming soon. I haven't decided yet the degree of romance there will be at the end, FantaC. So, who knows ...
Chapter 3
Hannibal Lecter was lying in the dark, his wrists and ankles solidly fixed to the bed with strong ropes. Whoever did not known him would have thought he was asleep. His breathing was slow and regular, his body perfectly still. But he was not sleeping.
He was currently exploring the rooms of his memory palace and trying to distract his mind from the pain in his body. And he was partially succeeding. After a while, it became bearable and he could relax further and start to examine his situation.
His attempt to escape had been hazardous. His chances of success were rather poor, but he had had to try. Before they took him away, he had profited that he was alone with one of them to bite his ear and escape his grasp. He had managed reaching the main door and go out, but he did not make more than a dozen yards outside before one of the criminals followed him and shot him in the leg.
He had fallen to the floor and just had the time to throw the knife he had spirited away from his keeper during the fight a few inches away. Then the three men were on him. They had kicked him violently in the head and in his chest. The man he had bitten the ear was raging and his companion had to stop him from killing their prey.
Hannibal had lost consciousness. When he woke up he was lying in the back of a van. One of the men was fixing a tourniquet on his leg to try to stop the bleeding, but the blood loss had been important before he succeeded.
Before they arrived at their destination, the man had put a black cotton bag on Hannibal' s head to blind him. The van had finally stopped. One of the kidnappers had carried him on his back for what had seemed to Hannibal like five minutes. Then he had found himself on a bed. They had tied him up and removed the bag. The room was dark and he could only distinguish the outline of two men. They had rapidly come out and he had heard the click of the lock.
Hannibal had not seen either of the men again. He could not say how long he had been lying here. He was sure he had lost consciousness a few times but had no reference to measure time. As he was starting getting hungry, he figured out at least one day had passed since his arrival. He would have killed for a glass of water. He took a deep breath, but the pain in his chest made him grin.
He tried to make a little inventory ... The bullet had entered his left thigh and broken his femur. He was almost sure the bullet was still inside his leg. He probably had a few broken ribs and they had kicked him hard on the back of his head. From the headache and his losses of consciousness, he could tell he most likely had a cranial trauma.
Hannibal tried to review the possibilities. Getting rid of the knife might not have been such a brilliant idea after all. They did not search him again after the fight. So he could have kept it. Besides, the chances that Jason found it were pretty thin. And even if he did, how could he know what to do with it ? He'd probably think it was his, staff it in a drawer and forget about it. Of course, the fact that they had not killed him, and even cured his wound, was a positive sign. It meant there was a chance they plan to let him go after the ransom was paid. The only problem was that the ransom could never be paid. Jason could not access his money and there was no way a sixteen years old kid could gather four million dollars on his own.
Had he called the police ? Hannibal was almost certain he did not. As he was certain Jason had understood the meaning of the note the kidnappers made him write.
Jason ... Hannibal was not afraid to die. He had lived a pretty full and dangerous life and had got used to the idea. He was not regretting anything he had done. But Jason was another matter. The kid was bright but yet too young to be left on his own.
Although he had never planned to have children, Hannibal loved his son. He had tried to give him everything he could, considering the circumstances of course. He had sent him to the best schools and had furthered himself his education. Jason had made him proud. What would become of him now that his father would no more be there to keep an eye on him ? Alone in the dark, Hannibal Lecter could confess this was really hurting.
Hannibal knew that his only chance to live was to find a way to escape his kidnappers alone. He could not count on anybody on earth to help him. But right now, there was nothing he could do. So he decided to try to rest. He may need all his strength later.
To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ...
Absolut.