h a n n i b a l
LESSONS
a fanfic by JetNoir
Note: Just a quick note to answer the questions raised by Ellie. Firstly, the game of chess is metaphorical, it's a reference to a film by Ingmar Bergman called The Seventh Seal, in which a Knight plays a game of chess with Death. Secondly, you're right, normally there would be no possible way for a blood test to not reveal a DNA sample. However, it will make sense, but I can't tell you yet – it'll give the game away! Just keep reading, and enjoy…
CHAPTER FIVE
No letter this time, for the message would come from a wholly different source – bound in the flesh of another's destiny.
--
OUTSIDE WASHINGTON D.C.
"So, Mr Irons. Let me make this very clear as I am not going to repeat this. I want to meet with Clarice. Where is she at the moment?"
Irons shuddered:
"Fl…l…orida."
"Good," murmured Lecter, "very good. Now, tell her when she gets back to put an advertisement in The Washington Post, which will read: wonder now world deny may or believe. It will be followed by a singular location of her choosing, however the meeting will be at eight o' clock, but make this absolutely clear. No teams. No surveillance. There is pen and paper in the back, take it and write what I have just said, and get out."
"You're…letting me go," murmured Elias.
"Why?" said Hannibal, "Would you prefer it if I killed you, and inscribed the message upon your rotting corpse? No? Believe me, Mr Irons, the only reason that I am letting you go is my need for secrecy, or trust me; tonight I would have tasted your heart. Now, chop chop."
Elias got out of the car, with the pen and paper in hand. The car drove away before he could get the plate.
An hour later, Elias stumbled against a pay phone, he fumbled in his pockets for a few cents, and dropped them into the slot, dialling the number of the Behavioural Science Office.
"Ito."
"Matt, it's Elias."
"Elias! Where the hell have you been? I was just about to call out a search party!"
"Matt, stop joking. It's Lecter, he's just been with me. I need to be picked up. I'm at-" he paused, looked around, and said the street he was in.
A car was with him in quarter of an hour.
--
FLORIDA
The next day, early morning.
Clarice Starling and Dr Lilia Derevko were dressed neutrally, dark coloured suits, and dark glasses. The hot Florida sun beat down on their faces, as they got out of their rented car, to the house near the sea.
They were nervous – understandably. This was not a meeting that was going to be pleasant – for either party.
Lilia knocked twice on the door, and a few moments later a woman, starting to age, her hair going grey, opened it.
"Yes?" she asked. Clarice sighed.
"Sorry to bother you ma'am, my name is Special Agent Clarice Starling, and this is Dr Lilia Derevko. We're FBI, and we would like to speak you your husband." The woman's face grew dark.
"Yes Agent Starling, I've seen you on the news. What do you want?"
"Like I said ma'am, to speak with your husband." The woman snorted bitterly:
"Go away," she snarled, "haven't you lot done enough to him."
"Molly?" a voice cried from inside, words slightly slurred, "Molly, who is it?" The woman called Molly sighed, as she opened the door wider.
"Come in. Just make it quick. Please." She led the way into the sitting room.
Clarice Starling had not flinched when she had been face-to-face with Mason Verger, but the sight of Will Graham's horrifically disfigured face shocked her to the core. His eyes were slightly glazed, and his breath reeked of alcohol. He had been drinking; it seemed heavily, a snifter of whiskey on the table next to him.
"Who are you, and how may I help?" his words were polite but short.
"My name is Clarice Starling," repeated Clarice, "and this is Dr Lilia Derevko. We're FBI."
Will smiled a little, his face twisted.
"Ah. So that's why Molly was reluctant to let you in. I guess you're here for a reason." Straight to business. He gestured for Clarice and Lilia to sit, and they did so. Molly hovered by the door.
"Mr Graham," said Clarice, "I am currently trying to track and incarcerate the serial-murderer called Revenant. As you may or may not know, I have been in contact with Dr Hannibal Lecter" at this, Graham flinched, "during the Mason Verger incident. Now, I have been assigned to this case, Dr Lecter is in frequent communication with me…constantly writing to me. Now there is a chance that within these letters he has written some clue, or reference to the killer. The thing is Mr Graham, that you're profiling abilities are second to none, you were the one to catch him, but what's more, Dr Lecter…he mentioned you."
"You have the letters? Here with you now?" asked Graham. Lilia nodded and handed them to him:
"We came up negative on forensics," she said, "we've come up negative on everything really."
Graham slowly leaved through the pages reading the hand of the man, the cannibal.
Some time had passed before he handed the letter back to Lilia.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I can't help you. Please leave me and my family alone."
Knowing she wasn't going to get anything else out of him, Clarice subtly signalled for Lilia, and her, to leave.
--
DEPARTMENT OF BEHAIVOURAL SCIENCE, FBI WASHINGTON
When Elias Irons staggered into the 'dungeon', with all its horrors, Matt Ito was horrified to see how ill he looked. It seemed that Elias had aged; indeed, Hannibal Lecter had that effect on people.
"We have to call Clarice, Matt," said Elias, "I don't trust that man, but what's more…I told him where they were."
"What!" Matt was shocked, and Elias close to collapsing.
"I was scared Matt," said Elias, "I was scared, and I screwed up."
"It happens," said Matt, as he reached for a phone. Quickly dialling a number, he signalled for Elias to sit down.
"You have reached the mobile of Clarice Starling. I'm sorry, but I'm unavailable at the moment. Please leave a message after the tone."
"Clarice, big problem," said Matt, "ring me back. Lecter abducted Irons, and then let him go. No damage, but he's spooked. However, Lecter knows where you are. Be careful, and please…get back to D.C. as soon as humanly possible."
--
UNKNOWN LOCATION
The man was alone, in his darkness…something that he relished. He had been called, summoned, if you will.
The endgame was coming – this much he knew. What might happen, however, the man didn't know. Precognition, unfortunately, was not one of the man's many talents.
The next chapter would begin soon enough.
--
FLORIDA
Midday.
Clarice and Lilia were eating a light lunch before the flight back to D.C. Clarice had a sandwich, while Lilia had sushi
"What I don't understand," said Lilia, gracefully placing sticky rice in her mouth, sesame seeds scattering to her plate, "is why Graham won't help us."
"He's afraid of retaliation," Clarice replied, "it was Lecter who turned Dolorhyde on him…that's why his face is disfigured.""But didn't Lecter imply you go to Graham? Surely he wouldn't do anything." Clarice paused a moment, as she savoured a mouthful of her sandwich, then:
"Perhaps, I'm not sure. It would be rude, and Lecter despises that. However, I know that he has a dislike of Graham, which is natural. Graham caught him. Erm…however, Lecter does admire Graham, because he caught him. A sort of love-hate…I'm sure you get the picture. There is one thing that you must always remember, and that is: never ever underestimate what Hannibal Lecter is capable of. Lecter thrives on the suffering of others, Graham's a prime example of that. He's completely unpredictable."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Lilia said.
Some time later, they were finishing up when a shadow fell across the table.
"I will be brief," said Will Graham, "so please listen."
--
Pachelbel's Canon was playing softly, as Hannibal picked up an elegant pen, and began to write on the paper in front of him.
Dear Clarice,
I know your location now. Florida. To see Will Graham, hmmm?
Listen to Elias. I know it's rare for me to give you 'requests' like this, perhaps you are cautious that I am not playing with you. Perhaps you are pleased at my forthcoming nature.
You know that I enjoy fear Clarice, I enjoy watching it, and feeling it in my flesh, and in my bones. My mind relishes the fact that another is using it, merely for survival.
However, it is not just fear I crave. If it makes you happy Clarice – and I know that to catch this serial-murderer would make you very happy – it seems that your emotions are just as potent to me. Almost quid pro quo? Is that why I am trying to help? Your emotions for my help?
The end is coming Clarice. Are you ready? Truly ready?
If you are not, then you will die.
Clarice…
Hannibal Lecter.
--
Florida.
"How did you find us, Will?" asked Lilia, raising an eyebrow at Clarice. Will smiled somewhat shakily, the alcohol still affecting his system.
"I followed you. Look, if Molly knew, she would only be upset. Since Lecter escaped, I've been looking over my shoulder, every single day. People have died…I just don't know what to do."
"We're not asking you to get in deep, Mr Graham," said Clarice, "but we are wondering why Lecter mentioned you, but also, what you could think of…as a profile."
"You're almost certainly looking for someone with a good knowledge of law-enforcement," said Will, "possibly ex-cop…maybe even a present one. It's unlikely that they would be unstable outwards, that is, they would have a very good façade…a mask. The finger…" Clarice looked shocked and interrupted:
"How the hell did you know that? The press were not told, it was the one detail left out to secure a true confession…that is, if the killer were to surrender."
"I was sent the case-file," said Graham, "the Director called me, sent me it. You weren't told in case I refused…at least, that's what I was told. The finger…is it a trophy? Most likely, although the person would need to preserve or freeze the severed digit. Due to the large amount of bodies, and the large amount of fingers, private storage would be a necessity. Almost certainly the person would be a loner, someone who craves frequent but brief human contact, maybe sexual, maybe not. The bodies…are any molested? Sexually?"
Clarice shook her head.
"Right…to my mind, that would mean that the act of killing, and the severing of the finger would be…'better than sex'…in itself a sexual act, but not one that comprised sexual activity. There doesn't seem to be a pattern with the selection of victims, and this is very rare…indeed, extremely disturbing. Virtually all serial-murderers have a pattern of victims, even Lecter – chosen for food. All right, not so much a pattern, but a purpose. This I think is completely random, but what's more, the only reason is pleasure. It's quite scary. This person is not going to stop, not now, not ever."
"Thankyou Mr Graham," said Clarice, "please…take care of yourself."
Will nodded and staggered off.
"Strange," said Lilia, "I really feel sorry for the poor guy."
"I know," said Clarice, "Lecter destroyed him. Come on, the flight leaves in one and a half hours."
--
The letter had been posted an hour ago, as Lecter stood in the darkness, a copy of Le Rouge et le Noir open on the table in front of him.
"Chapter twenty-seven," Lecter murmured, "the world, or what the rich lack. Perhaps, Clarice, I will simply write more. But what next?"
He sipped a sticky red liquid from a glass, Claret that looks like blood.
"Ambition. Pronunciation. A Girl's Thoughts. Painful Moments. Boredom. An Attack of Gout. Last Adieux."
The decision made, he swiftly wrote those words on a note, and signed it: H.
Hannibal Lecter felt a very slight elevation in his heartbeat. It was coming, the end.
He knew that he would enjoy every single moment…
--
Note: Not much action this chapter, more of a talkie! However, coming up: the terror of Alexander Strife, the FBI realise that they are in trouble, and Hannibal Lecter reveals his endgame. However, I read a very interesting article the other day, about characters called 'Mary-Sues', basically new characters that are far more beautiful and talented than the original characters. I sincerely hope I have not fallen into that trap, so please tell me if I have, but for this to work I needed new people, new blood if you will; with the addition of old favourites! This has been a strange story to write, but one I am enjoying immensely, and I hope you are too. The end is coming and soon. Oh, and please review!
Disclaimer: Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!
JetNoir