h a n n i b a l
LESSONS
a fanfic by JetNoir
Note: It's time for the make or break…
CHAPTER SIX
When Clarice returned to the 'dungeon', she had not anticipated that Hannibal Lecter would have written to her again, so soon.
-
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.
-
MEMPHIS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
The sound of planes roared overhead as The Man stepped down from the airplane he had just caught. This day had been a long time in the coming, but The Man felt only pleasure as he homed in on his prey.
The torrential rain showered down on him, but he was simply ignoring the inclement weather; for he found it more than ironic that all those years ago, Dr Hannibal Lecter had had his meeting with Senator Ruth Martin.
That case had been safely resolved – Buffalo Bill dead, Catherine Martin (the Senator's daughter) safe and well from her harrowing ordeal. Kidnapped by a madman, almost like Revenant.
'The world is an insane asylum; run by insane lunatics." The Man couldn't remember where that particular quote came from, but it seemed particularly apt.
Time was running out for Revenant. The Man could feel it in his soul. He had no time to dwell however, for in less than an hour, he was on a connecting flight, to Washington D.C.
Once again, it was ironic as the man stepped to the ground, met
-
DEPARTMENT OF BEHAVIOURAL SCIENCE, FBI WASHINGTON
"Don't you dare apologise," said Clarice to Elias Irons, "because I can tell you're scared that I'm angry at you. I'm not angry, not disappointed, just tired. Now, we've got a job to do. Good morning."
She went to the corner and sat down, instantly engrossed in the note, she had just been sent. Matt Ito waved feebly, then shook his head and sat down, murmuring:
"It's going to be one of those days, I see."
Before she sat down, Dr Lilia Derevko went up to Elias, and whispered in his ear, teasingly:
"Well, I'm mad at you…just be careful in the future, ok?"
They set about to their respective tasks, a small team, still raw and fresh in some respects, but working like a well oiled machine, desperately trying to find the serial-murderer.
A day, frustratingly, like so many others.
-
The cold dark evening was felt by everyone outside a building at this moment, but none felt it stronger than Alexander Strife.
At two o'clock, two days ago, he was kidnapped by the serial-murderer known only to the general public, and law-enforcement agencies as 'Revenant'. Since then, he has been abandoned in an unknown location since that time – or at least unknown to everyone except Revenant – alone, blindfolded and hungry.
There is a bucket underneath him, to collect his waste. Revenant did not want a mess underneath Strife that was not easy to dispose of. Alexander hung horizontally, arms and legs outstretched and tied securely with rope to two metallic posts stuck in the ground. There was nothing beneath him and the ground but air. Close to a meter of air.
It is some time later, the whole two days, where it is cold, barely manageable for human soul and survival, when a dark clad figure, once again entered.
"What is your name?"
Alexander shrieked, and looked around frantically – or at least, as much as he conceivably could as the figure drew towards him.
"I said, what is you name?" the voice was soft but insistent.
"A…alex…ander," the man murmured.
"Alexander," repeated Revenant, "that's a nice name. It sorts of slips of the tongue. Don't you agree?" Alexander remained silent.
"Not much of a talker are you? Very well, I have a choice for you. Would you like to die quickly and painlessly…or slowly and agonisingly."
"Please just let me go," said Alexander, panic widening his eyes, close to tears, "please, I haven't seen your face, I won't say anything to the authorities, please…oh god, who are you, and what do you want."
"My name is Revenant," said the masked killer, and Alexander emitted an anguished moan at this, "and what do I want? Your soul." Alexander shut his eyes, screwing them up tight, now whimpering.
"Very well," it whispered in Alexander's ear, as Revenant knelt, drawing a thick piece of rope from its back pocket, "if you don't reply…" the figure quickly wrapped the rope around Alexander's neck, and sharply pulled it in opposite directions. Alexander screamed, but even this was reduced to a gasp, as the air was slowly and surely cut off. It didn't take long for his windpipe to collapse.
Beneath the mask, Revenant smiled, and drew out a switchblade, pressing the switch, and exposing the blade.
Within three minutes, Revenant had devoured Alexander Strife's little finger, relishing the taste, a little part of the soul of the man.
Within three hours, Alexander Strife's body (minus the finger) had been disposed of, in a location far away, the only remaining purpose of the corpse was to be discovered and identified by the FBI.
It may be a cold way of looking at things, but Revenant believed that everything in the world had a purpose, and that this was Alexander's purpose.
Fun, isn't it?
-
It was getting close to nine, and Lilia and Elias had gone home hours ago. However, Matt was awaiting the analysis of the blood of the killer. None of the team could figure out the lack of DNA, it was completely impossible. Clarice was here as well, going over one of the numerous files.
"You know what Clarice?" said Matt suddenly, looking up from his computer, "I've just had a horrible thought." Clarice looked up and raised an eyebrow:
"What is it?"
"This lack of DNA is a real puzzle. I was wondering…what if Revenant has someone on the inside. Or worse, what if Revenant is someone on the inside. This would probably be more of Elias' field, but from what we can gather, the person clearly has a large and detailed knowledge of law-enforcement. What if it were one of the local police?"
"Oh Jesus," murmured Clarice, "why the hell did we not think of this earlier? Matt…get details on all law-enforcement that have been involved in the case. Start a search, known criminal records…history of mental instability…the works." Matt nodded:
"Coming right up."
-
WASHINGTON D.C.
It had taken some time for the meeting to take place, and many people had died in the interim, but now, The Man, and his subordinate had finally been able to meet. The room was dark in the Washington offices of the organisation that they both worked for, as they sat at opposite ends of a table.
"Thankyou for coming so soon," began the subordinate, "I know that you are busy sir, but first I must ask. Why the interest in this particular serial-murderer?"
"I am not at liberty to discuss that," was the simple reply from The Man, "all I can say is that the ones on top have a great interest in Revenant. You have managed to narrow down the location. Now, I have not eaten for some hours. Might I suggest that we continue this conversation in a restaurant somewhere?"
"Yes sir."
-
It was about an hour or so later after Clarice's startling idea. As soon as she closed the door, she slid the bolt home, and walked slowly into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of Rioja and a glass.
Falling into an armchair, she lazily reached out to her phone and pressed the play button, to see what people had left.
"YOU HAVE 3 MESSAGES," beeped the monotonous tone of the machine.
"FIRST NEW MESSAGE;""Clarice, this is Director Tunberry. Please schedule a meeting as soon as humanly possible. Thanks."
Clarice sat a little straighter. It was rare for the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation to make such a personal call, even rarer for one at home. Odd.
"SECOND NEW MESSAGE;""Hey," began the voice, with its soft Russian accent, "do you want to meet for breakfast tomorrow. Ring me."
Clarice pushed the Pause button, and dialled Lilia's number:
"Hello?""You know, you never left your name."
"Clarice! Didn't I? How did you know it was me then?""You're the only person I know with a Russian accent."
"Charming. So. Breakfast in the morning?""Yes please. Starbucks? Around eight?"
"Wonderful. Clarice…are you okay? You sound…well, tired."
"Yeah…I am a bit. I'm just going to get something to eat, and just get some sleep."
"You do that. Take care."
"Bye."
She took a sip of the dark red liquid – any stickier, and to the eye, it could be blood. But it wasn't. Just wine.
Play
"FINAL NEW MESSAGE;"
"Hello Clarice."
Clarice sat bolt upright in shock as the familiar voice of Hannibal Lecter poured through the speakers.
"How would your Mommy and Daddy react, now, right now, on this day of all days in the world? Would they be proud of you? Or would they hate you, despise you? For constantly and consistently putting your life in danger? Rest easy tonight Clarice. Au Revoir."
How?
After the last time Lecter had phoned, Clarice had had her number rapidly changed. How did he do it?
Realising that she would never get any answers tonight, she got up, and taking her wine with her, went to the kitchen, and started to chop an onion after washing her hands.
Switching the radio on, she smiled bitterly as a familiar piece of piano washed over her: Bach's Goldberg Variations.
Isn't life full of surprises?
-
It is getting close to midnight.
An uptown restaurant is preparing to close for the night, after a profitable evening. Only a few people remain, completing their meals. In a dark corner sit to men, opposite to each other, conversing quietly. One has been eating Steak Tartare, the other, Fruits de Mer. One is a man of great importance in a secret world, the other, his subordinate from the Washington office. They have been around the world on a chase that has lasted close to three years.
Tonight, that chase will end.
Nobody knows very much about the two men, but if a skilled investigator were to try he might learn the following:
Both men worked for a covert organisation, unaffiliated with any world government, or indeed the United Nations. This organisation specialised in investigation, and was hired by many different groups, sometimes civilian, corporate, and even military.
The two men that met, had a personal interest in the case of Revenant, for they knew more than the FBI did. The Bureau had only investigated the case from the first murder in 1997 – when it was only known as 'KFC' – and the more recent murders. They believed that these were the only killings, however the man knew different. The Man's sister had been Revenant's fourth victim, killed in Romania. The so-called state of hibernation had been nothing more than a sham – for the killer had simply moved around the world.
"So what's our next move, sir?" asked the subordinate.
"It is my intention to locate, and confront Revenant. Then kill it," was the reply from The Man. The subordinate nodded slowly, and continued to eat.
"Excuse me?" came a new voice, "I couldn't help but be intrigued by your conversation." Without waiting for an invitation the new man sat down.
The Man turned and regaled the stranger with a baleful glare:
"Can I help you sir?"
"Yes," the stranger replied, "you most certainly can. I heard that you were looking for Revenant. I have some information about it that I do not wish to share with the authorities. If you would care to follow me outside when you've finished…"
Indeed the men had finished their meal, so they rose instantly, and walked out the door after paying.
A dark alleyway – again, the cliché – was the destination of the three men.
"So," asked the subordinate, "who are you?"
"I am the Ghost whom you seek."
The two men exchanged a worried glance.
"Revenant?" said the subordinate.
"Prove it," said The Man.
Revenant smiled:
"A little finger for your trouble." The two men again glanced, and pulled out two loaded pistols.
"Freeze!" said The Man quietly. Revenant smiled.
"I don't think so." He twisted agilely to one side, and slashed the subordinate's throat with a curved knife he had concealed in his hand. Blood spurted to the pavement, as The Man gasped in shock, and squeezed off a round. The muzzle exploded, but the bullet missed Revenant, who knocked the gun out of The Man's hand.
"Just one thing," said Revenant, "you think that I am a serial-murderer," the stranger smiled at this point, "but I am not Revenant. Simply Dr Hannibal Lecter."
"No," The Man cried, "it can't be."
"So sorry," said Lecter, "but I'll make this quick."
To Lecter's credit, The Man's murder was very quick, but it was also, very, very painful. As The Man fell to the floor, gurgling through a slashed throat, he thought of his sister, and how he had failed her.
Within moments, he had joined her in death, for the rest of eternity.
-
Late morning.
"Yes sir," said Clarice, speaking into a telephone, "three o' clock this afternoon. I'll be there." She put it down.
"Who was that?" asked Lilia, nose-deep in a forensics report, "sounded important."
"Um-hum…Director Tunberry. I'm going to see him, to give a progress report. You too."
"Right…thanks for telling me!"
"My pleasure."
"Clarice!" called Matt from the other end of the dungeon, "I've just had a phone call from Elias…he's in the field after receiving a tip-off. It's just been confirmed…another attack by Revenant. We're still trying to ID the body, but the little finger is missing."
Clarice winced:
"Estimated time of death?"
"We're still establishing the exacts, but somewhere in the region of sixteen hours, give or take."
"Sixteen hours! That's not long," Lilia cried, "maybe Revenant's getting more careless!"
"Hmmm…we can but hope," murmured Clarice.
"So," said Lilia, "what happens next?"
"Well, Elias will finish up on site…I'm not sure. Look…could I ask the both of you to leave me for a while. I don't know why but…I just need to think this one out." Matt nodded:
"Sure. I need to go to the lab anyway, you know, for follow up."
"I'll head home to change," said Lilia, "we'll need to make an impression for the Director! I've got some reports from local police to catch up on as well." Clarice smiled gratefully.
"Thanks."
-
Clarice Starling felt like crying, but she knew that if she started, she wouldn't be able to stop. This was maddening, this waiting, so frustrating. To divert herself from the problem, she turned to the mail that had just been delivered.
The first of the two had been re-directed, and even before she opened it, she knew that it was from him.
Ambition. Pronunciation. A Girl's Thoughts. Painful Moments. Boredom. An Attack of Gout. Last Adieux
H.
What was that supposed to mean? Clarice knew that Lecter loved games, but this was baffling. The second, again from Lecter. It was almost as if he had posted one after forgetting the other. Was the good Doctor going insane? Clarice smiled at the feeble attempt at humour. She settled back, glad to be alone for a while and began to read.
-
Dear Clarice,
I know who Revenant is.
What would you do Clarice, to get this information. Kill me? Almost certainly, but then, if I were dead, then how would you get the oh so crucial information, hmmm?
What if I were to surrender Clarice, to put myself in your arms? Would you keep me incarcerated. You do realise, that because of my intervention, that I have helped in the capture – or rather – death, of two dangerous serial-murderers.
I want to help you Clarice, really I do. Of course you have no reason at all to believe me, I never would expect you too.
Consider this a warning, Clarice.
Having fun?
Hannibal Lecter.
P.S. How many letters have you received from me now, Clarice? Almost like our time together while I was incarcerated, although one sided. Has Elias told you of what I requested? No, almost certainly not…I'm afraid I seemed to scare him somewhat, I do seem to have that affect on people. Talk to him Clarice, or ring him.
Ta-ta.
H.
Frowning, Clarice leaned over and picked up the phone, dialling Elias in the field.
"Irons."
"Elias, it's Clarice. Look just a quick call. During your time with Lecter…did he request anything?"
"Oh! Damn it, Clarice, I completely forgot. I am so, so sorry."
"Doesn't matter. Elias, what did he say?"
"He wanted to meet. It would be at eight on the date that your advertisement would be placed in The Washington Post. You need to put: 'wonder now world deny may or believe' followed by the place you want to meet. Yes, I heard you the first time, I'm coming! Sorry Clarice, they've found something. Look, I'll ring you if we find something useful."
"Okay Elias. Bye."
Damn.
How did this happen? How did Elias Irons – a respected FBI agent – screw up so badly?
Sighing and shaking her head she pressed disconnect, and dialled a new number.
"Hello. The Washington Post."
"Hello. I wish to place an advertisement."
-
Two O' Clock.
The house was sparsely decorated, as the occupant merely preferred it that way, it almost reflected the personality, or rather the moral nature of the person. Revenant disliked clutter, believing it showed a messy and disorganised mind.
Revenant was sitting with the house in complete darkness, with merely a small table lamp illuminating the heavy file that it was reading. Revenant looked up as a loud knocking came from the door.
"Hey!" yelled the voice, "It's me! Are you in?" Revenant got up, slowly putting down the door after placing a bookmark at the place, and sauntered over to let FBI Special Agent Clarice Starling in.
"Grab your coat," Clarice Starling said, "we're late."
Dr Lilia Derevko smiled, illuminating her beautiful face, grabbed her coat and followed Starling out the door.
-
Note: Um…yeah. What else can I say? To be concluded…
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