Apologies for the delay folks – RL; work; holidays and other pathetic excuses. Barring nasty surprises at work this should now bowl along at a reasonable rate as extensive hand written notes now transcribed to PC – editing; editing; editing (yawn)

Summary : Clarice finds herself caught between a rock and a hard spot

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling and other characters contained in these posts were created by and are the intellectual property of Thomas Harris. They are used herein without permission, but in the spirit of admiration and respect. No infringement of copyright is intended, and no profit whatsoever is made by the owner, creators, moderators, members or contributors of this site.

Clarice heard shouts behind her. There was a light at the end of the alley about 50 yards away. She sprinted towards the opposite corner, which was darker and turned right. A narrow street lit dimly by lights from half open shutters on a couple of balconies. Left and then right again between corrugated iron shacks, splashing through water and rubbish. Waiting for the slash of glass on the soles of her feet, she ran lightly on her toes, hardly touching the ground.

She was breathing hard. She came out into another narrow road with a light in the distance. Instinctively she turned away from the illumination and almost immediately heard running feet coming out of the dark. Before she could decide what to do a shape materialised out of a doorway beside her. She saw the curve and sheen of a steel blade, like a whetted scimitar

There was more than one set of running feet. From the other end of the road she heard a Ducatti gunning it's engine and saw the headlight. She didn't pause. She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him into the doorway, wrapped one arm around the back of his neck pulled him in to her and pressed her lips against his. 'Dramatic verisimilitude' is what he had said. 'Well, let's see who can fool who.' There was some initial resistance when she put her hand around the back of his neck but he was too swift not to appreciate the situation and her solution.

For Clarice this was simply a recurrent dream; an old friend. The first time she had startled awake, sweating, breathing hard and had got up and gone to the bathroom to splash water over her face and brush her teeth. The second time she simply lay stiff in her bed. After that she recognised it for what it was – a mechanism for habituation. She had always chosen to face monsters. She knew this was the best way. Facing him in her dreams, she reasoned, was another way of facing him down, of rationalising him into flesh and blood. His lips were nothing like she remembered, in or out of sleep. Soft. Still.

Dr Lecter smiled inwardly. He didn't believe in fate as an autonomous force, simply in the ability to see opportunities to be seized. What a perfect solution to a potentially bloody problem ! He remembered as a child picking up a small rabbit, a fine tremor rippling its muscles, the smoothness of its fur. He could feel her muscles, tense, the same fine tremor, just a touch of fear. Electric. Delicious. He began to explore her lower lip, tentatively.

The Doctor, despite all his senses being fully occupied was still aware of drumming feet on cobbles, the roar of the motorbike, shouted imprecations in the dark. He felt her hand and arm tense around his neck. He carefully placed his hand at the curve of her waist, to reassure and moved his head a little, partly to see what was going on and partly to lick his lips.

He drew back a fraction to look at her. There was, some desperation in her eyes. There was still movement and shouts towards the darkened end of the road. Clarice was concerned that Jose or one of the others would recognise his back, but listening to the voices, she could only hear barrio Spanish and maybe Jose's near hysterical tenor

He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her fractionally closer. She gave him an old fashioned look and then draped both her hands around his neck.

"Is this authentic enough do you think ?" cool as an iced daquiari.

"Very good Clarice, although a leg tastefully draped around my hip would probably complete the tableau. Comfortable ?" he smiled playfully and moved his head very slowly to breathe on her neck. "Can you see anything ?" he murmured and as feet pounded on the roadway behind him and Clarice craned a little to get a better look, he struck and used his teeth to mark her on one exposed shoulder. Clarice gasped but could do very little with movement still going on in the roadway.

He ran his tongue lazily over the bruise he had made and then leaned back a little to watch her reaction. He thought she might spit at him but instead she let her arms drop and stiffened in his grasp. Clearly this particular coupling was over. Pity, his hand fitted perfectly in to the curve below her ribs.

"They've gone" she said shortly

"Hmm. What a shame. I thought for one moment there that you were almost beginning to enjoy yourself Clarice."

He stepped back half a pace and looked at her as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"What next Agent Starling ?" He raised an eyebrow. "At the very least I think your colleagues sold you down the river and at the worst, they purposely put you in harms way."

Clarice leaned against the doorway at her back to catch her breath and to think. She felt as if someone had kicked her in the stomach. She remembered Bernie's face. They had been playing for keeps. They wanted her dead.

"I would be desolated if you didn't accept some old Spanish hospitality for at least one night" The Doctor drawled this invitation and looked at her through half closed eyes. He was curious to see how much resistance she would put up to this suggestion.

Clarice examined her options as coolly as her winded mental state would allow. She had no idea if the DEA hierarchy in Washington knew anything about this. The chances of them believing her were not good, given her previous history. She had no contacts in the local force and they certainly wouldn't believe her, appearing out of the blue. The embassy ? – this might buy her some time but wouldn't the others get there first with some sort of plausible cover story ?

"Do you have a phone ? I need to call the embassy"

Dr Lecter looked at her quizzically. "Do you think that is wise Clarice ?"

"I have no passport or any other ID"

"As you wish" and he carefully handed her his phone from his inside jacket pocket.

She had memorised the emergency number she had been given in Washington. It was the mobile number of the night desk officer.

It rang 8 times before it was picked up. There was loud music and voices in the background. 'A club somewhere' thought Clarice

"Yeah. Duty Officer" The words were a little slurred.

"This is Special Agent Starling with the DEA. I need to see you and your security liason officer right now"

"This is who ? – I'm sorry you're going to have to speak up"

Clarice repeated her request.

"Just a minute, I need to confer here for a moment" The background noise was muffled for a moment and then, straining to hear, the music came back and with it, unmistakably, Jose's high tenor.

Clarice froze and immediately cut the connection. She returned the phone to the Doctor with blank eyes.

" The State Department as helpful and accommodating as ever, I see. My invitation still stands"

Clarice could feel a chill in the air.

"Frying pan or fire Clarice ? I would urge some speed with your decision – I think it's going to rain and a night on wet streets in your current state would be very uncomfortable." His lips were twitching again. Her dilemma and the internal arguments playing out over her features were more amusing than watching a child trying to choose between two sweetmeats.

Clarice looked him straight in the eye and only saw a bland enquiry.

"My car is not very far away. I live about a half hours drive away. I have ample space for guests. No strings, Clarice, no exotic meals."

"I guess I don't have a choice"

"You always have a choice Clarice, but common sense would dictate that this offer may be the best you can expect tonight. May I ?"

Dr. Lecter indicated the shoes that she still had in her left hand. Clarice felt too disconnected to argue. He crouched down. Removed the shoes from her hand and as she hung onto the side of the doorway he very carefully put the shoes on, fitting the slings very precisely above the curve of her heels. His hands hardly touched her feet. He stood beside her and offered her his arm. Clarice took it almost gratefully. Her feet were hurting and she felt in need of some support.

The cloth of his jacket was a silky linen. The arm underneath felt completely relaxed. He adjusted the length of his steps and his pace to what she could mange in her impossible heels. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. They paused before each corner while he briefly checked the intersection. The only sounds were city sounds. Traffic in the distance; scooters; arguments behind shuttered windows; music; slamming doors; the barking of dogs.

They came to a street a little wider than the others with cafes on either side and cars parked at an angle to the pavement. They strolled towards a Mercedes 450 SL Sports in silver grey with a soft top. A small figure with a curled mop of black hair, leapt up from the pavement at the front of the car.

"All safe and I polished the badge." Clarice saw a boy with bright, intelligent eyes and a tattered T shirt and shorts, standing proudly by the driver's door. Dr Lecter murmured something and gave the boy a folded bank note. The boy ran around to the other side and opened the car door for Clarice and gave her a wink as she settled herself into the champagne leather interior. "Buenas noches." He grinned at her broadly as he shut the door. He took the tail end of his T shirt and polished the handle and then moved out into the street to stop the traffic, to allow Dr Lecter to back out. He waved, and disappeared into the crowds.

"That's one of the advantages of living in a country with an economy constantly in flux – it's always easy to find reliable help. I would recommend keeping your eyes open for your friends Clarice. Do you know what sort of cars they have ?"

"We used taxis all the time. Jose has a Ducatti"

She saw nothing of her compadres during the trip to Dr Lecter's residence. While they drove, Dr. Lecter pointed out occasional museums, restaurants and bookshops . After half an hour, they entered a quieter neighbourhood with gated residences and trees planted on the sidewalks. They drove past a small park, in darkness at this time of night and almost immediately stopped beside the entrance to a driveway of what looked like an old colonial merchant's house with some elaborate plaster work around the windows and almost filigreed wrought iron gates. The gates opened silently and Dr Lecter drove directly through and then around the side of the house down a ramp into an underground garage. Before the doors of the garage whirred shut, Clarice caught the scent of jacaranda.

Encased. All the phrases she could think of made her feel uncomfortable … 'you have made your bed, now you will have to lie on it.'

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