Author's note: 'La Vista Ajena' translates more or less as 'the vision of others' or 'other people's sight'. It was from a play I read in high school called 'En la ardiente oscuridad'. (that in turn means 'In the burning darkness').
Bueno, entonces, aqui es nuestra agente favorita….
Here again, Clarice Starling thought. Am I really here again?
Yes, she was. The locked double doors had closed behind her. The same notice to check her weapon hung over the orderly's desk. And Alice Pierpont was waiting for her in the bare little visiting room.
Crawford had seemed relatively calm about the idea. He'd thought that it would be worth it and simply told her to get somebody big to go along with her. He'd recommended that Clarice call an agent over from the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team: Agent Robert 'Red' Hemd. Agent Hemd was known for his size; he would be able to provide muscle if it was necessary.
Never a word about how strong Alice was, and nary a word for how dangerous she could be. It's not a bad idea, Starling, getting her in the surveys would be interesting. That was it. But she'd come to the conclusion that she could expect no more from him.
Josh Graham had a simpler evaluation of the situation. He thought Clarice was simply off her trolley. When she'd told him that she was considering taking Alice into federal custody to take her to her stepfather's funeral, his words had been simple if abrupt.
"You're crazy," he said.
"No," she'd told him. "It's not like I'm setting her free. She'd be under heavy restraints, and security would be priority number one."
"You can if you want to," he had replied. "I'm not interested in being part of it at all. After what she's done…to you and to me…no way. You've got tweety birds flying around your head, is what I think."
She hadn't planned on bringing Josh anyway. Alice seemed to have accepted that she couldn't have him, and kick-starting that obsession was not something Clarice wanted to do. But his flat lack of sympathy surprised her. She knew what he'd been through, but even so it surprised her.
A call to Agent Hemd had assured that he was available, and he was more willing to help Alice than Josh was. So here she was. Clarice stopped at the door and swallowed.
Alice was sitting in the same posture she had adopted before. Hands on the table, feet on the floor, stiff with the knowledge that any unforeseen movement would cause the orderlies to come in and pin her to the wall. She eyed Clarice wordlessly for a few moments. Clarice swallowed again and closed the door behind her. A faint snick indicated that she was now locked in with a madwoman.
"Hello, Agent Starling," Alice said respectfully.
Clarice paused. "Hello, Alice," she said. "I did talk to a few people on your behalf."
Alice nodded. From her expression, she expected Clarice to report failure. "And what happened?" she asked.
"Well," Clarice said, "Dr. Perkins is willing to sign you into federal custody for the day. Specifically, mine. And I will take you to the funeral."
Alice stopped, not expecting her former captive to have agreed to help her. "Thank you," she said. "I do appreciate your kindness, Agent Starling."
"There are going to be terms," Clarice said.
Alice shrugged. "Of course," she said.
"I want your survey completed before I take you," Clarice began.
"If you'd like that," Alice said. "I'm not in a position to demand concessions."
Clarice nodded. "You're right," she said briskly. "You're not. I also want to go over security for this furlough of yours." Alice was being almost too calm about all this. Maybe she just understood that Clarice had the upper hand and she had no cards at all to play.
So why did Clarice still feel uneasy?
"All right," Alice said, still respectful as ever.
"You will be in restraints during the entire time," Clarice explained. "Handcuffs attached to a belly chain around your waist. I'll put them on you before I take you off the ward, and they will stay on until I bring you back to this ward."
Alice didn't seem particularly affected by it. "That's actually standard practice here in maximum security," she remarked. "Am I going to be allowed to wear civilian clothes to this, or do I have to wear these pajamas?"
Clarice nodded slowly. Seeing Alice calm and compliant was putting her off her speed. She felt like she wasn't in control, even though Alice was apparently agreeable to everything she asked.
"You can wear civilian clothes," Clarice said. "I will pick them out for you and bring them there. You won't see them before I bring them to you. Give me your sizes."
Alice nodded. "I'll also give you my attorney's address," she said in a businesslike tone. "He can reimburse you for the expense."
"Also," Clarice said, "before you go anywhere or I give you any clothing at all, you will be strip-searched by a nurse here. I may search you myself before we go. Once you are in my custody, I will do whatever I feel to be necessary to ensure that this goes smoothly. You are to keep your hands where I can see them at all times. If I feel it is necessary to search you, I will. If I feel it is necessary to restrain you in other means, I will do that. While you are at the funeral you are not to approach or speak to anyone without my express prior permission. There will be myself and another agent there with you. One of us will have our hand on your arm at all times. I will take you directly there and directly back. If at any time you try anything…anything at all…I will obtain control over you by whatever means necessary and bring you back here. Do you understand me?"
Alice considered that for a moment. "Yes, Agent Starling, I understand, and I'll comply with your rules," she said.
"Also," Clarice said, "you'll be sedated during your trip."
That, at least, seemed to surprise Alice. She frowned thoughtfully and looked up at Starling. She seemed like she didn't understand or wanted to object, but didn't want to upset Clarice.
"Well," Alice said, "how am I supposed to go to the funeral if I'm going to sleep through it?"
Clarice's eyes narrowed. According to Alice's records, she was an RN. She should know the difference. Or perhaps she was simply confused; after all, she had been imprisoned for two years.
"You won't be asleep," she said sharply. "You'll be sedated, not tranquilized. You'll be awake, but it'll slow you down. I know what you're capable of, Alice. I know how strong you are." She leaned forward. Her throat worked.
"I want you to understand something here, Alice. I will do this favor for you. I am doing it out of empathy. Not weakness. Don't confuse the two, Alice. I will let you say goodbye to your stepfather, but I will not allow security to lapse around you, and I will not forget what you are."
Alice blinked a bit, and Clarice realized she'd been more vituperative than she meant to be. Well, hell. Alice was frightening. Alice had done horrible things, and done some of them to her. Letting Alice out of the secure environment she was held in had to be done extremely carefully.
"And what am I, Agent Starling?" Alice asked quizzically.
Clarice bit her tongue before answering. She stared at the other woman for a long moment. The first words – a monster – that rose to her mind did not seem appropriate to say.
"Dangerous," Clarice said finally.
Alice nodded slowly. "Very well, Agent Starling," she said. "I'll comply with your conditions. Leave the survey on the table, I'll take it when you leave."
Clarice took the papers out of her briefcase and left them on the table. She wasn't surprised when Alice made no move to take them. Those were the rules. The door clicked open behind her and she retreated to the lobby.
There, she got her stuff back and took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding. Why did she still feel so nervous about this? When a hand fell on her shoulder, she almost screamed with electric tension.
Barney stood there calmly, a large ebony rock. His features cracked in a smile. In one hand he held a piece of paper, shockingly white against his dark skin. He gave it to her.
"She gave me this to give to you," he said.
Clarice opened the paper and glanced at it. It contained Alice's dress sizes and the name and address of her attorney. Just what Clarice had asked her for, that was all. No need to freak.
Under that was a small note.
I do thank you for your consideration, Agent Starling. I was told you wouldn't let me down.
-Alice Pierpont
…
Two days later, Clarice returned to the asylum for what she hoped would be the final time. Once again, she was escorted through the halls to the women's maximum-security ward. This time, however, things were different. This time, she felt more in control.
Accompanying her was Agent Hemd. He would've made just about anyone feel confident, she thought. He was six foot eight, and packed with muscle. Even though his clothing was soberly cut, he seemed to explode out of his suit. His neck looked like it was as thick as Clarice's waist. If Alice Pierpont decided to try being oppositional, Agent Hemd would be able to pick her up, break her in half, and put the pieces in the back seat of the prowl car.
So she walked on with her giant through the hospital to the maximum-security ward. This time, Alice was not in the visiting room. Dr. Perkins had put her in a holding cell near the orderly's desk for her. There, she would wait for Clarice to arrive.
In one hand, Clarice had a shopping bag. She'd picked up appropriate clothing for Alice at a department store. A black dress, tights, shoes, and underwear. Nothing in there Alice could use to make a handcuff key in there. She'd gone over the clothing three times, reminding herself that Alice couldn't put anything in there. She was locked up at the asylum. Nonetheless, Clarice had checked it anyway, just in case Alice had teleported herself to Clarice's duplex, hidden a few things in the clothing intended for her, and teleported herself back. A handcuff key, perhaps, or a hacksaw. Or maybe a harpoon. Clarice would not put it past her. But the clothing was as innocent as the day before when she'd bought it.
Agent Hemd accompanied her onto the women's maximum-security ward, and it was there she made him wait by the orderly's desk. This next part she would do herself. Alice didn't need to be subjected to a strip search with Agent Hemd watching. Clarice could show her at least that much consideration.
The door to the padded cell was heavy steel. A smaller door provided a peephole that could be opened and closed. Clarice opened it, looked inside, closed her eyes, and slipped inside as quietly as she could. This was what she had asked for, but this was not how she had pictured it.
A nurse stood with her back to Clarice. Alice Pierpont stood in front of her. Her back, too, was to Clarice. She stood facing the padded wall of the cell. Over her head was a barred window. Her wrists were cuffed overhead to one of the bars. On her ankles she wore thick leather restraints that were attached to rings in the wall with stout canvas straps. She wore a paper hospital gown, and the edges had come apart at the back.
The nurse glanced up at Clarice calmly. "Oh," she said. "I didn't realize you were here."
"I'm sorry," Clarice said. "I didn't mean to disturb. You about done?"
"Yes, I was just finishing up," the nurse said.
"Agent Starling," Alice said, still facing away. "Good morning. Are you going to search me yourself?" Her voice sounded somewhat strained.
Clarice paused. The nurse had just done it. Then again, Alice was sly. And after all, Clarice was not unmindful that a male nurse had examined Dr. Lecter shortly before his escape, too. Perhaps better safe than sorry.
"I'll have a look," Clarice said, and walked up to the bound woman, feeling a tremor. "Have you been behaving yourself?"
"Yes," Alice said, and there was something odd about her voice again. "Ask the nurse." Clarice saw the muscles of Alice's shoulders tense as she approached. Alice paused a moment and then said, "Really, I'd rather you got this over with. This position is uncomfortable."
Clarice turned to the nurse and spoke in a hushed aside. "Did you just pat her down, or…?"
The nurse shook her head. "Body cavities are both checked," she said in a quiet tone that would allow Alice the dignity of it not carrying out of the room. "She's clean, Agent Starling."
Clarice felt her stomach lurch a bit and wondered if she was being too paranoid. She didn't want to duplicate what the nurse had already done. "Did you check her mouth?"
The nurse's mouth made an O of guilty surprise. "Well…no, I didn't."
Clarice observed her captive calmly. "All right, then," she said. "I'm not going to pat you down, Alice. Turn around."
Alice's shoulders rose and fell. "I can't turn around, Agent Starling," she said deliberately. "My feet are tied to the wall."
Clarice glanced down and observed the heavy straps confining Alice's ankles to the rings set in the wall. She didn't like the idea of releasing Alice. In her head, she knew it was silly. Alice had behaved herself twice in previous visits. Yet still, her hands trembled at the thought of letting Alice free.
You're being stupid, she told herself. She's still tied to the bars, for God's sake.
Then something else hit her. Alice had been unrestrained before, and nothing had happened. Why go through all this rigmarole now?
Because before she wasn't being strip-searched, she told herself. They wanted to make sure she minded her manners.
But the sheer fact of the matter was that Alice couldn't turn around as things stood, so Clarice carefully stood and squatted. The heavy rasp of the canvas straps echoed in her ears. Once that was done, she allowed Alice a little bit of slack in the strap binding her wrists to the bars so that she could turn around without having her hands free.
Carefully, Clarice stepped back.
"Turn around," she said commandingly. Alice complied. Clarice's heart gave a nasty knock in her chest.
Why Alice's voice had sounded muffled before was clear, now. She wore a strong plastic mask covering her lower face. Above the edge of the mask, her maroon eyes focused on Clarice with an expression of resignation, as if this was all quite unreasonable. The black leather straps had blended into her black hair, and so Clarice had not recognized it at first.
Maroon eyes watching her calmly over a mask. Lips confined behind bars. Clarice closed her eyes and felt memories stir up like old silt on the bottom of her mind.
"Looks familiar, doesn't it?" Alice asked quizzically. "Dr. Perkins's orders. He was afraid I wouldn't care for the strip search. He also thought it would make you feel more comfortable being around me."
Well fuck off, Perkins, Clarice thought. She shook her head. "No," she said, and accepted a pair of gloves from the nurse. "I never asked him for anything like this. I'm gonna have a look in your mouth, now."
She would have to take the mask off. For a moment Clarice trembled. Quit being such a pansy, will you? It wasn't like Alice was going to bite her. After all, if Alice misbehaved, then Alice got slammed back in her cell. Still, the thought of having her forearms so close to Alice's face was unnerving.
But she wasn't going to be able to check Alice's mouth without doing it, so she screwed up her courage and approached the bound woman. For her part, Alice did not move and let her unstrap and remove the mask as calm as you please. She attempted to rub her face against her upper arm.
"That thing is horrible to wear," she said. "All right, Agent Starling. Do what you need to." She opened her mouth compliantly. For a moment Clarice wondered if she shouldn't get a mouthpiece or a wooden peg or something to jam between Alice's molars. Having her fingers in Alice's mouth was not something she thought she would ever do. Images of Alice biting her fingers off arose in her mind.
"If you bite me," Clarice warned, "you'll regret it."
Alice sighed. "If I bite you, you'll shoot me," she pointed out. "I'm tied to the wall. You've got a gun. Agent Starling, give me credit for brains here."
Clarice didn't have her gun, but it seemed Alice didn't know that. She reached up and took Alice's jaw in her left hand. Staring into Alice's mouth revealed nothing other than tongue and teeth. She steeled her courage as she raised her gloved right hand.
Just do it, she wants to go to her stepfather's funeral, she thought. Then her fingers were in Alice's mouth, sliding around between cheek and gum. Nothing there. She felt under Alice's tongue. Nothing there either. She pulled her hand back and snapped off the glove, feeling adrenalin rush through her system. Her heart was pounding hard.
See? Was that so bad?
"All right," Clarice said briskly. She took the clothing out of the bag and arranged it on the floor. Then she slid the buckle on the canvas strap attaching Alice's wrist restraints to the bar down enough to where Alice could reach it.
"I'm going to close the door now," she said. "Get those off and get dressed. Once you're dressed I'll put the cuffs on you and take you out."
"All right," Alice said agreeably. Clarice left the room and closed the door. She shut the peephole, too, so that Alice didn't have to be watched while she changed. Perhaps ten minutes later, the food slot pushed open, revealing the restraints and straps neatly coiled. Clarice took a breath and called Agent Hemd up to the cell door. In one hand, he had a pair of handcuffs attached to a long steel chain.
Opening the door revealed Alice Pierpont in the black dress Clarice had picked out for her. She stood in the middle of the room, waiting calmly. Her head tracked up and her eyes widened at the sight of Agent Hemd's large form. Clarice was dwarfed by comparison. So was Alice.
Clarice found she liked that.
"Good morning. My name is Agent Robert Hemd," Agent Hemd said. His voice was bass and deep. From the look on Alice's face, she might have expected his first words to be Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of a psychiatric inmate.
"Hello, Agent Hemd," she said respectfully.
"I want you to put your hands out now," he said gently. Alice did so with some trepidation, as if she expected him to rip them off and perhaps eat them. Instead, he simply locked the cuffs on her and then told her to turn around. When she did, the large man fastened the belly chain around her waist. Then he took her arm and gently tugged her forward out of the cell.
At the lobby, Barney was waiting with a pill cup and some water. Even he looked up at Agent Hemd. Clarice found it amusing; Barney rarely had to look up at anyone. He offered Alice the pill and held the cup for her.
"Now you behave yourself," he admonished gently. "I'm glad you got to go." To Clarice he held out a clipboard. "Just sign there, Agent Starling, and she's all yours. That's Stelazine I just gave her. It'll keep her calm."
Clarice raised her eyebrows. Stelazine was strong stuff. All the same, that was better, perhaps. She'd just have to compensate for the fact that Alice would be in la-la land until it wore off. She signed the form and accepted legal custody of Alice Pierpont.
"That would keep the Middle East calm, Barney," she quipped, and then took her prisoner out the door.
Herding Alice out to the car went without incident, although Clarice had to show her paperwork indicating that Alice was her prisoner at a few checkpoints. That was comforting, though. She liked the idea that they were serious about security. Once outside, Alice stopped and turned her face up to the sun, enjoying the sunshine.
Clarice got her in the car. When Hemd got in the passenger side, the springs of the big Crown Victoria groaned noticeably. He grinned with embarrassment. Clarice smiled calmly at him and glanced at Alice in the rearview. The tranquilizer had begun to kick in, and Dr. Lecter's daughter looked pretty stoned.
The ride out was quiet, and Alice simply watched the scenery from behind the prisoner screen. Clarice could see her working her jaw and occasionally shifting her position in the back seat. She didn't speak, but that wasn't a surprise to Clarice.
The Episcopalian church in which Edgar Morgan II's funeral was being held was in the middle of Baltimore. Clarice stared at it and found it vaguely ostentatious. It was large and ornate, resembling a fortress. She parked the car under a tree and set about getting her prisoner out of the car. Hemd was nearby to provide backup.
Alice swayed noticeably when Clarice pulled her out of the car. Her eyes looked half-lidded and sleepy. The two women stood face-to-face, captor and captive, roles swapped now. Clarice took her prisoner's arm and brought her through the parking lot. The doors of the church were absurdly large and thick. Clarice pushed the door open and let Alice through.
A fair amount of people had shown up, thronging the large church. Edgar Morgan was well known and popular, apparently. Clarice steered Alice to a pew in the back and sat her down between herself and Hemd. She glanced over and saw two uniformed officers sitting nearby with a young man in a suit. He, too, wore handcuffs. He glanced over at Alice and grinned a hard grin.
"Hey, sis," he said. "Didn't think you were going to make it."
Alice looked over druggedly at him. "Eddie," she said softly. "Hi."
Oh boy, Clarice thought. That must be her brother. The convicted felon and the psych patient. What a wonderful family. She decided not to remind Alice that she was supposed to ask before talking to anybody; Alice was too doped up to remember, and Clarice wasn't enough of a martinet to care if Alice said hello to her brother or not.
"Mom's up there," he said, and jerked his head.
Alice shrugged.
Clarice leaned in close to Alice. "Do you want to say hello to your mother?" she asked.
Alice blinked and thought for a moment. "No," she said shortly.
At the head of the church stood a blonde woman. Her dress, coiffure, and manner all shouted Money! She was greeting people as they came up to offer their condolences. To Clarice, she seemed more like a bad starlet playing a role than a grieving wife.
Her eyes floated back to her offspring, both cuffed and guarded, and a sour expression crossed her face. She excused herself from the person she was talking to. Her heels rattled an angry staccato against the wooden floor as she proceeded down the hallway. She glared openly at Clarice. Yes, this was definitely Jane Morgan.
"What is…that…doing here?" she asked. Hostility dripped from her tone. Clarice smiled. Better to kill them with kindness.
"Hello, Mrs. Morgan," Clarice said, and offered her hand. "I'm Special Agent Clarice Starling. Alice requested to come to the funeral to pay her respects."
Jane Morgan ignored Clarice's hand. She eyed her coldly, paying no heed to her daughter. "I don't want her here," she snapped. "Get her out. He wasn't even her father, anyway."
Clarice gritted her teeth. "Mrs. Morgan," she said tactfully, "my orders are to bring her here for the funeral and then return her to the hospital."
"Well, I'm giving you new orders," Jane Morgan announced. "Get her out of here."
Clarice sighed and found herself not at all surprised that Alice had ended up turning out the way she had. This blonde harridan was quite a handful.
"I don't take orders from you, Mrs. Morgan," she said firmly.
The woman's vapid, pretty face dropped open in an expression of shock. "Do you know who I am?"
"Yes, I do," Clarice said calmly. "You are Jane Pierpont Morgan. You're a widow here and I do feel for your loss. But you are not authorized to give me orders, and frankly put, Mrs. Morgan, you don't need to treat your daughter this way."
"Get out," the other woman hissed. "Get out and take that thing back to the loony bin with you."
Clarice sighed. "I'm not going to do that," she said, enjoying privately the chance to tell Jane Pierpont Morgan 'no'. It seemed she didn't like the idea. The blonde woman shoved past Clarice and raised her right hand to strike her daughter. Alice flinched away from her and flexed her hands.
Okay, Clarice Starling thought, you have just hit my official E goddamn nuff point, Frau Übersturmführer Morgan..
She reached out and grabbed Jane Morgan's wrist, twisting it down firmly. The other woman might be a bitch, but she didn't know how to fight worth shit. Clarice pivoted easily, bending the other woman's arm behind her back and forcing her over the back of the pew.
"Mrs. Morgan," Clarice said, still dead calm and not missing a beat, "I need you to listen to me now. It's not my place to tell you how to deal with your daughter. It is my place to keep an eye on her while she's here. Now you listen to me. Alice is in restraints and no danger to anyone. She is in my care and custody and I am responsible for her. If you try again to shove past me and strike your daughter, I will arrest you. I will charge you with aggravated assault, interfering with the custody of a committed person, and assault on a federal officer. After I do that, I will see to it that a copy of the arrest affidavit, along with your mug shots and fingerprints, are given to the Baltimore Sun and the National Tattler. I doubt that will impress your friends on the A-list. Do you understand me, Mrs. Morgan? I'd like a reply."
The woman let out a furious, shocked noise and tried to twist her arm. Clarice held on firmly. Finally, Jane Morgan let out a hiss and said, "Fine."
Clarice released her and stared her down with no fear.
"You do realize I'll be pursuing this matter," Jane Morgan said. "I know people, you know."
"You do what you feel to be right, Mrs. Morgan," Clarice said. "I will do the same. Now, if you have nothing pleasant to say to your daughter, I'll ask you to leave her be."
"I hope you don't think I'm going to pay your fees for bringing her here," Jane Morgan spat. "I did not authorize bringing that monster here."
Clarice sighed. "I am not charging a fee," she said. "You won't be expected to pay a dime, Mrs. Morgan."
"Good. Because you won't get a dime, Agent Starling." The firm, angry click of heels announced that Clarice was no longer welcome in the august presence of the wealthy woman. Clarice sighed. Hemd grinned.
"Well, that went well," he quipped.
Clarice closed her eyes. She hated stuff like that, but she wasn't particularly worried about the other woman threatening here. Jane Morgan's connections were in business, not government.
A few seats down the pew, Eddie Morgan shifted his chained ankles. "Mom never did like Alice," he said casually. "Cause of who her father is."
"Shut up, Morgan," one of his guards said.
Alice let out a sigh. "That," she said in a somewhat thick tone, "is why I didn't want to say hello to her."
Clarice nodded. "It's all right," she said soothingly, even though Alice was far too doped up to get upset over it. "Is there anyone you do want to talk to?"
Alice pondered that through the thick Stelazine haze she was in. "Not really," she said after a moment. Clarice sighed and shrugged. Perhaps that was better.
The rest of the funeral went relatively calmly. One older woman came over and introduced herself as the grandmother of the two. Clarice let her hug her granddaughter. Alice simply accepted the hug and stared blankly, as if she wasn't completely sure what was going on. When it came time to file past the body, Alice didn't break down or cry. She simply touched the body's hand and closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she told the corpse. "You were decent to me, and you had it pretty rough." After that, she didn't put up a fuss when Clarice and her giant led her back to her seat for the end of the funeral. Once the eulogy had been read and all was said and done, Clarice herded her out to the car for the gravesite service.
That was short and to the point. A knot of people stood around, watching the earthly remains of Edgar Morgan II lowered into the ground in a ten-thousand-dollar coffin. Clarice kept Alice at the back of the crowd, and things seemed to work out just fine. Other than a nuclear-scale glare from the harridan who had given birth to the two kids in chains, the funeral was uneventful.
Alice was quiet as Clarice got her back in the car. She glanced around for a bit, working her jaw. Clarice got the idea she was sadder about returning to the asylum than she was about her stepfather. But she didn't fuss when Clarice put her in the back. She simply stared at her feet as the big Crown Victoria pulled out of the cemetery and picked up the highway. In twenty minutes they were pulling off at the exit for the asylum.
The gate guard waved them in, and Alice's shoulders heaved at the sight of the heavy cyclone fencing shutting off the facility from the rest of the world. Clarice tensed. If she was going to freak, now might be the time.
"Thank you for taking me, Agent Starling," Alice said formally. Clarice piloted the car to the parking lot. There, she noticed a young black woman and a large man waiting. The man wore scrubs, and the woman wore a lab coat over her dress. When they saw the car, they began walking towards it. Her eyebrows rose.
The young black woman stuck out her hand. She was quite pretty, Clarice thought. She was about Clarice's own height. Her skin was an attractive shade of café au lait. Her features were fine and her hair cut short to her skull. A pair of large glasses sat atop her face.
"Hi," she said calmly. "I'm Dr. Mansour. This is Bobby, one of our orderlies. Dr. Perkins sent me down here to get Alice back in our custody. Could you take the handcuffs off her, please?"
Clarice frowned. "Out here? Shouldn't she be back on her ward before I do that?"
"Dr. Perkins sent me down here and told me to get Alice back in our custody as soon as possible," the woman said smoothly. "He said you'd had your hands full with Alice and that we should transfer her back ASAP. I've got Bobby here to make sure things go smoothly."
Well, fuck Perkins once again, Clarice thought. "Actually, she hasn't been a problem," she said. "Good as gold, in fact."
"Very well," Dr. Mansour said, smiling. "Now, just take the cuffs off her, please."
Agent Hemd frowned himself. But if that was all they wanted, then they could have their patient back. Clarice nodded at him after a moment. He set about unfastening Alice's restraints. The orderly ambled over to him to back him up in case. Dr. Mansour handed Clarice a clipboard.
"Sign there, please, and we'll take her off your hands," she said lightly.
Clarice took the clipboard and reached in her pocket for a pen. Oh, maybe that asshole Perkins just thinks I'm scared of Alice, she thought.
Dr. Mansour reached for something in her lab coat. Suddenly, her entire face changed. She went from easy and relaxing to determined and stony in a heartbeat.
"Now," she said.
It happened so quickly Clarice did not even know it until it was too late. On the other side of the car, the blocky orderly plucked a pistol from the back of his waistband and shot Agent Robert Hemd. The young black woman drew a flat automatic from her own belt and aimed it at Clarice.
Almost instantly, Clarice heard the report and reacted. Her hands were busy with the clipboard and she dropped it almost immediately. But even that took a second or two, and it was a second she didn't have.
Clarice groped for her own gun, but the young woman's gun was already out and aiming at her. Across the car, the orderly fired another bullet into Agent Hemd's body. A look of shock and horror came over her face even as her fingers settled around the holstered .45 and began to draw it smoothly. But the bore of the young woman's gun was pointed at her.
A spurt of flame came from the barrel, and then something smacked Clarice hard and divorced her from her body. She could feel her knees going. Her brain screamed at them to get up, but the lines seemed to be down. Her knees would not obey her brain's commands.
The young black woman loomed over Clarice like a sexton about to fill in a grave. She knew she had to move, but now it was her entire body that refused to listen. It didn't hurt, but there was a feeling of tremendous shock and power. Everything felt swimmy and far away. There was a heavy weight on her chest and it was all she could do to breathe.
Then the young woman aimed her weapon and shot Clarice Starling two more times.