Chapter 6 Ill met by moonlight
Yes ... pant, pant .... they meet again and the sht hits the fan
Usual disclaimers apply. Thomas Harris owns Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter. No copyright infringment intended
The taxi dropped her a couple of streets away from the café, on the waterfront near the Puento Trasbordador. The great iron skeins of the bridge lit by solitary lights along its span, looked like a medieval war machine. There was someone in a rowing boat, gently sculling across the oily water.
She was about 10 minutes from the café. It gave her time to get into the rhythm of walking in her heels and time to look around.
"The right shoes make a woman puuurrr." Ardelia had always said this in her Eartha Kitt voice that made Clarice laugh. The shoes that he had left for her in the photo booth had disappeared by the time she had made it back into the station concourse after arguing the toss with Clint Pearsall. For an instant she had felt a real flare of jealous anger. They had been meant for her, not some idle traveller.
These shoes were barely made for walking. Any running and she would have to take them off. The waterfront was quiet. It was still early. Couples strolling in the heat; groups of men at tables arguing and gesticulating, some just watching. Turning west into the barrio it was instantly quieter except for the boys on scooters, shirts open flapping like flags, weaving down the middle of the road like drunken mosquitoes.
Ten minutes later and Clarice was in the square. The café was quiet – no other working girls that she could see. The last thing she wanted was a catfight. She picked a table with a good view of the meeting point and ordered a Jack Daniels with plenty of ice and water. She lit a cigarette and inhaled half-heartedly. She hated smoking but felt that right now it was a necessary evil if she was going to look genuine. She dropped her hand and let the smoke curl up her fingers as she eyed the alley.
The light from the lamp across the square was suddenly obscured. She peered into the darkness.
"Ill met by moonlight Clarice."
He moved imperceptibly so that the light fell on the table again. She could just see his eyes flaring in the reflected light. He was dressed all in black but with no fedora tonight – a silk shirt again, loose jacket, and a black silk tie with an intricate design that glinted like chased Toledo steel. He looked at her a little askance.
"Very fetching Clarice although I still think you would look devastating in green and the shoes .... quite unsuitable for hot pursuit if that is what you had in mind."
He reached inside his jacket pocket and removed a thick silver clip of notes and peeled off three, folded them carefully in half and watching her intently, placed them under her glass.
"Dr Lecter. I'm working right now and you are getting in the way"
"Hmm. So I see. However, I am sure you would find business much more lucrative outside one of the telo's in Palermo" His lips were beginning to twitch.
He sat down carefully in the chair opposite and looked at her quizzically. "So, how does it feel Special Agent Starling, selling yourself body and soul ?"
"I am asking you to leave Doctor while I finish what I have to do. Please take your money and go"
Dr Lecter looked at her fixedly for a moment. "Should I flounce as I depart, for the benefit of your guardians? A spurned customer. Would that add some dramatic verisimilitude to your little charade do you think?"
Clarice looked daggers at him. "I'll be more than happy to deal with you later Dr. Lecter, but not right now" she said savagely
"I could be quite hurt by that Clarice – concentrating on capturing a second rate drugs baron rather than one of the FBI's 10 most wanted. I do hope you have your priorities ordered appropriately however, far be it from me to redirect your righteous energies." He paused. "I look forward to accommodating you at your convenience, Clarice." He gave her a smile as smooth as old cognac.
He retrieved the notes with a quick movement of his fingers, without touching the glass and carefully placed the crisp paper into the silver clip again.
He elevated himself smoothly from his chair, and produced a chilly smile.
"Good hunting" He looked up at the night sky briefly. "We are still under Orion. Remember Clarice, in the dark, you should never look straight ahead." He fashioned an irritated flick of his fingers for the benefit of their observers, turned and drifted swiftly into the darkness.
Clarice swallowed hard and concentrated on getting her breathing under control again. She glanced up the alley. No action.
'Shit' Well, why hadn't she mentioned these encounters to Jose and the others ? Because they wouldn't believe her ? No, that wasn't it. She could feel something pulling at her. A desire as strong as the hunger she had felt when she first went to college, promising herself a degree and a place at Quantico.
She wanted to talk to him, properly, in a civilised way. Free from all restrictions and reservations. '
'And why is that do you think ?' Because I am curious to see what he is like unconfined.
'Why ?' Because ... and here she halted. This was getting uncomfortable. She was fascinated. She could admit that much. Clarice remembered as a child, being transfixed by the glowing pine logs in the fire and her father batting her hand away when she stretched out to touch. Attracted to what is fatal to you – the addicts edict. 'Fascinated by what ?' By his mind. By who he is. My purpose is to divine his essence as he delved into mine. Quid pro quo.
Clarice snapped awake. A dust covered Mercedes came to a halt in the alley and dowsed its lights. The car filled the roadway leaving just enough room on both sides for the doors to open.
Clarice could distinguish no faces in the gloom. The passenger door opened and a tall man with a hooked nose and a cigarette hanging from his lips studied the building overshadowing the driver's side He looked up and down the alleyway and adjusted his ear-piece. The driver got out and also had a good look around. Finally the rear door on the drivers side opened, a short square man positioned himself alongside the rear bumper and finally their quarry appeared from the back seat, dressed in an open necked white shirt and wearing dark glasses.
Clarice knocked her bag off the table, and scrabbled on the cobbles, picking up the spilled contents, while keeping a close eye on the action in the alley. Diego Valdes moved swiftly into the building followed by the driver and the thick-necked guy carrying a large Nike sports bag.
Clarice swivelled, still half hidden under the table, looking for Jose and the others. Nothing. She carefully placed herself on her chair again, and lit another cigarette. The tall guy looked a little restless, tapping his fingers on the car roof, taking quick draws on his cigarette, looking up and down the alley every 5 seconds or so.
Clarice checked her watch. 3 minutes since they had arrived. What was Jose waiting for ? She thought about vacating her table and retreating to drag Jose and the others out of hiding. No. Her job was to watch.
She sipped her drink and watched through the smoke idly rising from her cigarette.
5 minutes. Something must be wrong. Jose had indicated at the briefing that they needed to go in hard and fast.
Clarice stubbed out her cigarette. She had to buy time. She stood up and arranged the bag over her shoulder so that she could get at her piece, easily. She made sure her skirt was mid thigh, tossed her hair and made her way across the square to the Mercedes, taking her time. The tall guy noticed her when she was about 30 feet away. He made token attempts to look up the alley but it was clear that his attention was concentrating someplace else. 'And why not ?' thought Clarice. 'I still run 3 miles a day. I still push weights. I am a size 8 and I look good in off the shoulder red lycra and heels, whatever the Good Doctor might say.'
"¿Tenes un cigarrillo?" Clarice could do husky as well as Ardelia, especially after two cigarettes and some cheap whiskey.
Clarice glanced at the doorway and up to the first floor windows and then back into the square as the tall guy felt for his pack of cigarettes and lighter. Nothing. She was still scanning the building where Jose and the others were supposed to be holed up when she felt herself being spun around and thrown across the front of the Mercedes. The tall guy had his full weight on top of her and was scrabbling for one of her wrists. He had one leg between hers and his other foot wedged against the kerb.
Clarice didn't hesitate. She raked one of her heels down his shin and stamped it hard into his foot. He cried out and involuntarily stepped back. She drove back into him, desperately reaching for her bag. It slid off the bonnet into the gutter. He had fallen backwards, awkwardly. She turned and struck him once across the larynx. She caught the coiled cord to his earpiece with the blow and as it fell out of his ear she heard Jose's voice, high pitched, screaming.
Clarice could hear feet pounding down the stairs of the building and shutters slamming open. She looked to her right and saw Bernie and Zack sprinting across the square. Bernie's expression was savage. She slipped out of both her shoes, clutched them in one hand and began running up the alley, into the darkness.
