Disclaimer: Clarice Starling, Ardelia Mapp, and FBI Director Tunberry, are copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story plus original characters belong to me.

Author's Note: I must apologise for the lateness of this chapter, but it is extremely difficult to write consistently. I shall revolve to try however. I have no idea whether the FBI holds field offices around the world, (probably not), so please accept the usage here as dramatic license.

Year of Hell

by Josiah Tulkinhorn

Chapter Three: 3rd January

J. Edgar Hoover Building; Washington, D.C. Nine a.m.

Clarice Starling made sure the plastic goggles were firmly secured in front of her eyes, and carefully covered her ears with protectors.

Checking her pistol was loaded, she slid a round into the chamber, and thumbed the safety off. Breathing deeply, she raised the pistol at arm's length, and fired the clip at the target.

When the smoke had blown away, she hit the button, and the paper target began to shoot towards her.

"Not bad," said a voice behind her. Clarice swivelled. "Hi," he said, offering a hand, "Agent Tony Schulze."

Clarice looked at the ragged hole in the 'skull' of the target, and said; "Thanks. Now, how can I help you Agent Schulze?"

"I've been assigned to assist you. On Behavioural Science."

"For any particular reason?"

"None that they gave me. I go where I'm told."

"When did you graduate from the Academy?"

"How could you? No, never mind. I graduated a few months ago."

"Doctor Lecter once was insulted that Jack Crawford sent me, whom he called a 'trainee'. Do you think you're up to it?"

Schulze straightened: "Of course I am."

"No," said Clarice, "don't give me the company line. Can you really do this?"

"Yes," said Schulze, "I can do this."

"Good," said Clarice simply, "then come with me."

--

FBI international field office; Paris. Twelve p.m. (local time)

Ardelia Mapp's office was small, cramped; and when the wind was in the east, occasionally smelled of fish.

Luckily, there was no fishy smell, as she wolfed down a salad, while staring at the brown office walls. Rain pounded against the walls, and she could barely see anything out the small window but grey.

Sweeping some leaves into her mouth, she reached out and grabbed a file, that was on top of a precarious stack. However, her outstretched arm knocked over a well-thumbed novel, to the floor.

She cursed violently, and drew her arm back. Her rotation would only end in another six months, and this dreary bureaucratic nonsense. Well, someone had to do it, but she sure wished that it wasn't her. She missed Clarice, her truest friend. Why had she been sent here? Was it a punishment? But for what?

A noise came from behind her. Swivelling, she reached out, and picked up the ringing phone.

"Special Agent Mapp."

"Agent Mapp. It's Director Tunberry."

"Director! To what do I owe the honour?"

"No need to be sarky. I have multiple transfer requests on my desk. We wanted to move you Ardelia, but we didn't have any opportunities. We needed someone good in charge of the office."

"Yes sir, but it's bureaucracy. Not exactly what I signed up for."

"I understand that. Have you been following the news?"

"I presume you're referring to this supposed London murder. The one with Dr Lecter."

"Of course. What you may not know is that there has been another murder. The press hasn't cottoned on yet, thank God. Body was discovered in Russia this morning. The room was wiped clean, but we found a little DNA. That's in analysis now. Girl's name was Kate Warner, an American tourist. We think it was Lecter who killed her. I'll get to the point Ardelia. I've put Clarice Starling in charge on this end, and she wants you running point abroad. I need you to get on a plane to Russia."

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir. And please thank Clarice. It's been a while since we last spoke."

"Well you'll speak to her soon enough. You have a ticket waiting at De Gaulle Airport, plane leaves in six hours."

Tunberry hung the phone up, and Ardelia smiled. She felt horrible, that this was at the cost of two lives already. But it was her chance to do something, to do what she was meant to.

Grabbing the remains of her salad, and a few belongings, she rushed out to tell her co-workers where she was going.

She had quite a bit of packing to do.

To Be Continued

Note: Very much a talkie chapter, next the beginnings of the investigation will be outlined. Hope you enjoyed it, and reviews are very much appreciated.

Mr J Tulkinhorn.