Disclaimer: FBI Director Tunberry is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story plus original characters belong to me.
Author's Note: And now, the second chapter…
Year of Hell
by Josiah Tulkinhorn
Chapter Five: 5th January
Unknown location; (believed to be in the former Soviet Bloc). Half past nine a.m.
Callie Cheetham and Naomi Smith are in a very singular line of work. They are anonymous, very expensive, and utterly professional.
Callie Cheetham and Naomi Smith are Assassins. Few are privileged to their true names - indeed, it is believed only they know the others - instead they are called 'The Twins'. They aren't, of course, they are not even related, but their quasi-symbiotic relationship is so intense that they often know what the other is thinking, and as such, they are nigh-on invincible.
It is believed that they can die. No-one is brave enough to try.
This morning, the sun is shining outside their apartment, even though it is still cold. Inside, Naomi is drinking a cup of herbal tea, while Callie is reading a novel (The Brothers Karamazov, in it's original Russian), and Evanescence is blasting through the speakers.
So loud, in fact that they almost don't here the phone ring.
"Switch it off!" hisses Callie, so as Naomi scrambles for the computer, she knocks the sound off. Before picking up the phone, Callie switches on the voice changer, and a gizmo which destroys traces. Meanwhile Naomi would start a back-trace, to verify the client.
"Yes?"
"You are the Twins?" A woman's voice. Soft, American.
"Yes."
"I have a client. I want you to kill Doctor Hannibal Lecter."
"Why?" asked Callie.
"That is none of your concern!"
"Yes it is, Madam. He is extremely dangerous."
"I do realise that."
"Our fee would have to be doubled."
"Two million dollars will be wired to your account. A million now, the second on completion."
"Very well. This might take some time."
"You have one year." The phone clicked dead. Callie looked over to Naomi, who shook her head.
"Somewhere in America, but you could tell that by the accent, Cal."
"Yeah," said Callie, "but we have to take the job."
"We take any job. You know that."
"But a serial-murderer. This'll be interesting."
"Wouldn't have it any other way," said Naomi, "now. Would you like a cup of tea?"
--
J. Edgar Hoover Building; Washington, D.C. Two p.m.
"Commissioner. I appreciate you waiting so later, I realise it's night in London."
"That's fine, Director Tunberry. None of us are getting much sleep these days. Do we have any progress?"
"We can confirm that Doctor Lecter moved directly from London, to Russia. Agent Ardelia Mapp is with the Russian authorities presently, and is analysing the information. Now, due to the fact Kate Warner is an American citizen, as long as Lecter is tried for her murder, we are willing to hand him over for trial and sentencing. Now, I'm not sure how our Justice Department is going to pursue things, but Lecter should still be in our custody. So wherever he would be jailed, those murdered would be added to the list. It makes little difference though. When caught, he's going to be imprisoned for the rest of his life…and perhaps the death penalty. He wouldn't get that over in England, would he?"
"Not unless he sold state secrets, which we're fairly certain he doesn't possess, or if he kills any of the royal family. He's safe from treason, but regicide? Is he mad enough to try?"
"In all honesty," said Tunberry, "I have no idea. I fervently hope not."
"Same here," said the Commissioner.
--
Somewhere in Cornwall; England. Seven p.m. (local time).
The man is eating a very fine meal of freshly caught oysters, soon to be followed by sea bass. He is reading the newspaper while he eats, and is drinking Shiraz.
It is quiet in this room he is renting, and his own culinary skills are impressive.
Later, when he is sated, he chooses to read a novel, equally quietly.
The man's name is Mordred, and he has no surname. To his neighbours, he is called Fred Barnes, but that is not his true name.
And like his namesake, behind this subtle exterior, he craves one thing. Destruction.
To Be Continued
Note: I just want to thank A. A. Aaron; Penelope S. Cartwright; BeatricePortinari (especially for re-igniting my love of Arthurian legend); and doctor katy; for all your reviews, kind words, support and encouragement. I'm finding this very hard to write (but fun), and you guys make it much easier. I'm also indebted to the books: The Legend of King Arthur and his Knights by James Knowles; and The Once and Future King by T. H. White. Next chapter: we're catching up with Dr Lecter.
Mr J Tulkinhorn.