Hannibal: The Golden Pen

Chapter 2

Hannibal expected and accepted the uneasy gaze that Clarice shot at him after he had spoken. He had noticed with ease that Clarice hadn't been acting quite herself for a long time, no doubt due to all the stress she'd been taking from her less than satisfying working schedule.

"What are you up to?" She asked steadily.

"Now, we both know that if I told you that this would be no fun at all."

Clarice stared hard at Hannibal, suspicion clouding her blue eyes. "I refuse to help you with anything."

Hannibal put on an amused face. "Alright then, Clarice. You win." He quietly stood up, his hand reaching into his pocket. "I'll be going now." Clarice watched him pull his hand back out of his pocket, subtly seeing that he was grasping something, and then he turned and walked out of the house as quickly as he had come in.

Clarice waiting just a few minutes before quickly getting up from her chair and walking outside, glancing around. Hannibal was no where to be seen, but she still couldn't help but wonder what he had held in his hand. She then decided that taking a quick look around wouldn't hurt anything, and proceeded to do so. In just a few minutes of searching her suspicions lowered when she hadn't found anything. With a sigh she walked back towards her door. Her eyes were locked onto the path she walked, so they caught the glint of shining and quickly looked up. On the path, just a few steps ahead of her, something gold was glinting in the sunlight. She squinted in thought and went to pick it up in her hand. It was a golden pen, elaborately decorated with symbols in a different language that she thought was Japanese or Chinese. Bewildered, she decided that she needed to find out what the symbols spelled out.

Later that day Clarice drove her car into town, the pen in her pocket, and pulled into a parking lot of a small building. She got of her car and walked into the small building, telling the secretary that she needed to speak with the doctor, and she nodded. The building was actually an office of a man who was an orthodontist, but Clarice had once met with him while being an agent and knew for a fact that he was well educated in foreign languages. She hoped he'd be able to tell her what the pen spelled.

She walked down a narrow hallways and went into the door that said: James Reading, Orthodontist. It was a small room, a reclining chair for patients nailed to the floor in the center and a sink on the left wall. The walls were outlined with shelves and drawers. Clarice, after looking around curiously, stepped further in just before hearing footsteps behind her.

A kind voice spoke, "Okay, who've got here-Oh! Starling! Clarice, wasn't it?"

She turned and smiled, holding out a hand. "That's right Dr. Reading."

The taller man smiled, shaking her hand. "Not here for a checkup I suppose."

"Not exactly. You see…I have this pen, and it has symbols on it that I thought you might be able to read."

Dr. Reading grinned pleasurably and shut the door. "Alright, let's see it."

Clarice nodded and took the pen out of her pocket and held it out. Dr. Reading took it expertly and pulled glasses out of his shirt pocket, putting them on and gazing at the pen thoughtfully. His fingers rotated it, reading the full message, and after two minutes he smiled.

"I do believe I've got it." He held the pen back out for her to take, and she did.

"So, what did it say?"

"It was in Chinese, but…I'm afraid it's bit undecipherable. I'm not that good in the Chinese language, but I did manage the word opera and capital…"

Clarice held her hand up to her lips in a fist, pondering. She knew Hannibal enjoyed attending operas, but the word capital completely threw her off.

"I hope that helps, oh, and I won't ask what it's for, you being an agent and all."

Clarice smiled, "Thank you Dr. Reading, it helps a lot."

She wasn't going to bother telling him that she hadn't been an agent for a year now; that would only give him a reason to start asking questions. "Well, I better get going." She said, and Dr. Reading nodded.

"Always a pleasure to help out."

Clarice smiled again and then left. The whole drive home she kept wondering what the two words had meant. Opera and capital, she was pretty sure that she knew the significance of opera, but capital? By the time she got home and made it to her chair it was dark out. She flipped on her television, though she hardly watched it. After an hour she got very drowsy and started to doze. She had a short dream. The golden pen was floating in the air in front of her, but every time she tried to grasp it, it seemed to float just beyond reach. She tried time after time just to touch the pen, but she never could. When she finally stopped trying, the pen began to soar towards her, its symbols spinning around its base. Chinese symbols…

She woke with a start to find her television on and an ache in her neck from the position she'd fallen asleep in. But it suddenly made sense. Opera and capital were connected, and they were written in Chinese. The Peking Opera House in Beijing, the capital of China. But why would Hannibal have a pen that related to a Chinese Opera House? This truly baffled her, but it wouldn't be a first from Hannibal. Rubbing her head she let herself fall asleep again for the remainder of the night.

The next morning Clarice couldn't get her mind off of the pen, Hannibal, and the meaning of his short appearance. He had mentioned that he had a problem, something she'd never expect to hear from him, though not surprising. But she mustn't help him with anything. He was a murderer and wanted for arrest, and if she helped him and were caught it would look extremely unbecoming and foul, and she'd most likely end up in jail herself. Yet, she was curious, dangerously curious. She couldn't help but want to at least find out what was going on, and it was that curiosity that led her to call the nearest airport and buy a ticket for a plane to Beijing. She quickly packed a suitcase, not sure of how long she'd be gone, and drove to the airport. She couldn't help but feel she was jumping to conclusions and in the back of her mind she doubted herself. As she drove she couldn't help but notice a black corvette driving behind her. She decided not to pay any attention to it, even when it turned into the airport when she did. She parked and when she got out of her own car she looked around and saw no sign of the corvette, to her relief. Getting her suitcase she walked the long way to the airport.

Inside she found her ticket waiting for her at the main desk, and then went through the long lines of luggage checking and such. She the made her way to her plane's gate and found herself a seat by the window that overlooked the runways behind the building. She sighed and waited, looking around at all the people passing by. A man in all black caught her eye. His eyes had been looking at her until she noticed, and then he quickly averted them. He was an Asian man, shorter than average, and had short, spiky black hair on his head. Clarice glanced the other way trying not to draw attention to herself and when she flicked her eyes back to where the man was she found him gone. She blinked and decided not to dawdle on it.

Ten minutes later her plane had arrived and people were allowed to begin boarding it. Clarice stood, her suitcase in hand and got in the line of people waiting. It was then that she saw the Asian man again; he appeared and got in line as well, though much farther back than she. Clarice couldn't help but feel as though she were being watched, as the line slowly moved forward. Finally she was next in line and then she walked down into the walkways that led to the plane's entrance. She picked a row that was unoccupied by anyone else and chose the window seat out of the three. Her suitcase was small enough to fit up in the cabinet over her row, and she stored it there before sitting down. She then picked up a magazine and started scouring through it. She flipped past a few uninteresting topics and found much of the magazine pointless. But just when she found a small article on the latest gun technology, something that was far more interesting than the rest of the magazine, a familiar voice spoke.

"So you made it, Clarice, how delightful."

She looked up with a jerk and saw Hannibal in the aisle beside her row of seats. She felt slightly relieved that had indeed gotten the pen's hint correct nevertheless.

"I hope you don't mind if I take the seat beside yours? Good." Hannibal slipped into the row and sat down.

"So what's this problem you have?" Clarice asked immediately.

Hannibal gazed at her. "Wasting no time are you?"

"There's hardly time to waste."

"But isn't there?"

Clarice sighed.

"Tell you what," Hannibal began, "we'll do it like we did eleven years ago. You tell me some information and I'll return the favor."

Clarice remembered their information swapping all the years ago back when Hannibal had still been in that top notch security prison.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

Hannibal smiled. "Tell me, when you were younger, and while you were at the orphanage, what did you do?"

"I did my daily chores and I slept. We never were privileged with free time, and it was absolute misery."

She turned her head to gaze back at Hannibal.

"When did you leave the orphanage, Clarice?"

"When I was eighteen. Although most of the time all we did was chores, the orphanage did provide a bit of education, due to the law. I was allowed to go to a community college and I worked a half time job. The studied forensics and sciences and anything I could on behavior, which led me into working with Mr. Campbell after graduating, and there I began physical training for becoming an FBI agent."

"And while being there you happened to be assigned to speak with Dr. Hannibal Lecter."

Clarice nodded. "Yes, that is how I came to you. Now will you tell me anything about your problem?"

Hannibal readjusted his eyes, as they had gone vacant as he imagined Clarice's life in his mind, almost as if reading a well written book.

"Very well. I've been in China during the past year, and I so happened to meet an old friend who was very unhappy with me because of something in the past."

Clarice focused on him, waiting for more.

"You know, planes tend to procrastinate as long as possible."

"What?"

"Everytime I get on a plane I end up waiting much longer than I bargain for before it actually moves." Hannibal continued to drift off topic.

It was clear to Clarice that what she'd heard was all she was going to get. She sighed as Hannibal just smiled at her.

Finally the plane did begin to move though, it backed up slowly, pausing as soon as it had turned sideways, waiting for another plane to pass by. Then it began rolling through the complex maze of roads that many other planes were using until it found a clear runway and straightened itself out.

"I always find the pressure of taking off into the air exhilarating, don't you Clarice?"

She just nodded and let her hand grip her knee tensely.

Hannibal noticed. "Nervous, Clarice? You wouldn't happen to be afraid of heights?"

"In fact I am, and I'd appreciate it if you'd not pester me about it." Clarice said in a hushed voice as she pulled down the slot that covered her window. The plane lurched forward.

Hannibal grinned. "Very well then."

The plane started off slow, but gradually gained more and more speed as it rolled down the runway. Soon it was going so very fast that Clarice could hardly tell when it rolled over bumps in the road. Before she realized it she felt the sensation of lifting off the ground. In minutes the plane was headed for China, and Clarice couldn't help but wonder what she was getting herself in to.