THE ASSAULT
Hannibal drove.
An hour or more passed and though he had no particular destination in mind, he knew himself well enough to realize the last thing he needed was talk. Too much within his own mind, what he needed was space. If he were in Argentina, he would wander the acres of his property until his mind calmed.
It was now approaching late afternoon. They left the zoo earlier than Clarice might have liked as she wanted to spend the entire day, but Hannibal argued that lengthy a visit was impractical for a child who was far too young to even participate, much less enjoy the outing. He didn't relish the thought of a public breast feeding either.
All of the windows lowered in the Bentley, Hannibal allowed the humid late Spring breeze to whip around his face, swirling throughout the vehicle even as the anger spun within his mind. The air along the Chesapeake Bay was heavy. Two massive fronts about to collide created a level of humidity that made every breath burdensome, each inhalation having to be dragged into his body.
The tide is coming in…it must be approaching four o'clock.
It had been quite some time since last he felt this level of rage. This bubbling, simmering fury, this raging frenzy that churned within his mind. The feelings agitating his thoughts, he remembered a similar flood of emotion that came upon him the night he killed the panther. Still new in their love, Clarice didn't understand. Still, now, he struggled to make himself known to her. They came together several times that following morning. It was then they created their child.
You fire my heart and stir my soul, but you cannot calm my mind…Clarice…
Knowing the Bentley would attract unwanted attention, he drove to Washington. There he could walk freely and blend in with the crowds and the car wouldn't stand out as much. He parked the vehicle in a secure lot and prepared to set out on foot.
He needed to walk in order to clear his mind and decided the National Mall would be ideal. The two-mile stretch had a variety of sights to distract or, perhaps, he could walk by the reflecting pool and calm himself.
No matter.
What he really wanted to do was to find the insolent waif from the zoo and listen to his screams, but that wouldn't be practical. Too many people had seen the exchange. If true, that revenge is a dish best served cold, he would be forced to wait quite some time before revisiting that situation. No, that was entirely out of the question. The insult from the ignorant youth wasn't worth jeopardizing the future of his son.
Anger is upon me, Clarice. I am worth nothing to you lest I vent this madness.
For now, he would need to stay away from his wife long enough for his mind to settle. Too many doors of his memory palace were ajar. He needed to still himself in order to close them all. He was in no state to be Husband or Father.
Patience, my Love…patience…there are times I drag the chain behind me and times when it drags me. Perhaps, with your help, I will someday rid myself of it but for now, I must take hold before it catches, and drags you along with it.
Hannibal exited his car and walked from the parking structure, he could see two men tagging along within his periphery, shadowing his movements.
Ah…you've seen the car…you'll assume I might be an easy mark with a full wallet. One of those assumptions is correct. Come along if you must. Your intention may be dubious, but it may suit my needs as well.
Hannibal walked for a time, leading the men around as he assessed his circumstances. He found himself in front of the merry-go-round, watching it spin.
I dared to reach out to touch your hair…my Love…
There was a man with a camera filming his wife and child on the carousel. Seeing the man lower the device, Hannibal saw opportunity sought to make an immediately connection.
"Shall I assume your daughter to be the red haired beauty?"
The man smiled and responded, "Yes, she's my precious little lady."
"She has chosen to ride the dragon, forgoing the painted horses. She is brave and adventurous, I take it?"
"She's a fearless little girl. Sometimes maybe more than she should be. It gets her in trouble a lot."
"My wife has similar hair and a similar nature. Your daughter reminds me of my Clarice. She will, no doubt, grow to an exceptional woman. Your wife is a vision, as well. You are a lucky man."
"Clarice?" As he turned to face Hannibal, the man's eyes lit with recognition.
"Thank you, Doctor Lecter…it's kind of you to say. If you'll allow me to return the compliment, you have a lovely family as well. Your wife's very dedicated to you and your son is a handsome little baby. You're equally fortunate."
Hannibal, hands clasped firmly behind his back as he rocked on his heels, proudly nodded.
"Thank you…yes. Yes, I am."
"Are you here with your family, Sir?"
"No, I've come to the city alone this afternoon. I had some pressing business to attend therefore my wife is at home with my son. The business completed, I'll be returning to my family now. You'll please excuse me for interrupting your outing. A storm approaches, so you'll need to leave the area soon, I expect. I'll allow you to return to your family as well. My very best to you all."
"My best to your family, too, Doctor Lecter."
Hannibal turned, knowing the man would not miss the chance to point him out to his wife.
As Hannibal moved away, turning toward an area that was sparsely populated but still in view of the man and his family, he coaxed the hoodlums in by separating from the crowd.
Seizing the opportunity to get to Hannibal, the men quickly approached from behind. Their sudden movements attracted the attention of the man who was indeed pointing Hannibal out to his wife. Seeing Hannibal raise his arms over his head signaling a robbery, the man turned the camera to the altercation, certain a crime was occurring. He directed his wife to find a police officer.
Hannibal breathed deeply as he began to assess his situation.
Not concerned with stealth? You might have waited a bit longer…
A crack of lightening illuminated the sky. Hannibal looked upward, counting the seconds to the sound.
Two…three…four…
The thunder rolled.
Time yet, but not long.
One of the men, the larger of the two, barked orders into Hannibal's ear.
"There's a knife at your back. If you reach for your wallet and hand it back to us, we'll just walk away and you won't go home with an extra hole or two in your body. You fuck with me, and I'll use this knife to ventilate your ass."
Speaking calmly, Hannibal warned in return, "May I make a counter-offer? If you walk away, I may let you live."
Unfazed, as he had no idea with whom he was dealing, the hoodlum continued, "Fuck you, Old Man just give us your damned wallet!"
Old man? We shall see…
The instability of the weather confounding his ability to accurately judge distance by scent, in order to determine a plan of attack, Hannibal needed to hear the second man's voice to judge the distance.
How easily do you anger, my friend? Can I bait you into revealing yourself?
Challenging his manhood to coax a response, he taunted, "One man dares to speak while the other cowers? Perhaps there is a eunuch in my presence? Do you fear one old man so much that you will allow your partner to make threats on your behalf?"
Taking the bait, the second man shouted, "Screw you Old Man! Just give us your fucking wallet!"
The second man is located perhaps two or three steps beyond his counterpart just over my right shoulder. If I can locate the hand with the weapon and disarm the first, I could focus my attention on the second man and would stand a good chance of overcoming both. Not without absorbing some damage, but it is possible. They'll not get my wallet in any event.
Hannibal needed to know what hand held the knife. Again he taunted, provoking the man holding the weapon.
"It is true, my wallet is quite full therefore I would need good reason to part with it. I have no way of knowing if you actually possess a weapon or if you are relying on my fear, but as I have no fear, perhaps proof can be offered…a show of good faith, as it were."
"What? What the fuck?"
Hearing the man's confusion and seeing opportunity, Hannibal spun quickly to face the man, his eyes darting to assess his circumstances.
The closest man held a knife in his right hand while the second man appeared unarmed.
Hannibal prepared.
"One knife, two men? You will find yourselves at quite a disadvantage. I will keep my wallet, I think."
The closer man recognized, "Hannibal Lecter? I hear you're crazy with that knife of yours."
"Yes, so I'm told, though at this moment I am unarmed, so to speak."
The second man joined, "You're real fucking rich, aren't you?"
Hannibal lowered his head and smiled slyly. "Yes, and I intend to keep it that way."
Gesturing with the point of the knife, the larger man questioned, "How much money you got on you now?"
"Twelve hundred, more perhaps."
The smaller man asserted, "Give it!"
Another lightening strike followed closely behind by the immediate roll of thunder.
Any moment now…let us get this over with…
Lowering his head, Hannibal prepared for the attack he understood was about to commence.
"You want it? Come…get it."
The man with the knife squared off with Hannibal, brandishing the weapon.
Hannibal stood very still with both his arms bent at the elbow, his hands in front of his face. He peered through the two-inch opening created by his nearly touching palms, waiting for the man to make the first move.
Come now, my friends…the camera is rolling, as is the thunder. We haven't long and I have need of this…
The would-be mugger lunged with his right arm, attempting to stab Hannibal's abdomen.
Turning his body away from the blow, Hannibal blocked the lunge with his left forearm, reached across the attacker's limb, and grabbed the outside of the arm at the man's right elbow. Using the leverage of the man's own arm, Hannibal secured his foe's wrist by trapping it within the bend of his left arm. He locked out the elbow and now fully controlled the man's body trapping the arm at the wrist and shoulder.
Hannibal cranked the now hyper-extended appendage, breaking it with one savage pull.
The clouds burst open as the man screamed. Hannibal dropped him to the ground, enjoying the howls of pain as sheets of rain began to fall.
Careful not to appear overtly aggressive, Hannibal held his arms up in surrender as he faced the remaining man.
"You have no weapon and now, you know of what I am capable. You would be better off running as I will disable you in any way I can. I have a wife and son and will not leave this life by your hand. The same, I am afraid, cannot be said for you if you continue this assault."
"Fuck you!"
The man the good doctor had spoken to earlier, not twenty feet from the action began to frantically wrap a plastic poncho around his equipment as he continued to roll the camera. He was capturing every moment of the activity, as Hannibal had planned all along.
Thank you, my friend…you have come to my aid as I hoped you would.
The second attacker charged Hannibal, driving his shoulder into the older man's body, taking him to the ground. Sliding backward across the now wet grass, Hannibal attempted to scramble to his feet, rolling away from the larger man to put some distance between them. Before he could escape, the man grabbed Hannibal's left ankle and pulled him in, dragging him through the mud. Pinning Hannibal, the man cocked his arm, preparing to punch.
Bracing himself for the blow, Hannibal rolled his head to the side, hoping to lessen the concussion by the man's right cross. Rising up, the attacker rained punches down, the blows crashing repeatedly against Hannibal's face, causing his head to recurrently bounce against the ground, splashing muddy water in sprays around them.
As he absorbed the full force of the attack he covertly sought to better his position. Hannibal braced his legs and the moment the man leaned forward, took advantage of the misplaced body weight by driving his hips upward, flipping the man forward.
As the attacker's body shifted, sweeping his leg, Hannibal turned his body over and achieved the dominant position. Now straddling his attacker, though bloody and battered, Hannibal began driving his fists repeatedly into the man's face. Almost immediately the bridge of the man's nose gave way, blood spurting from the impact. The remaining punches forced the teeth from the man's jaw.
Initially, the man's arms flailed attempting to block the punches. By the fifth or sixth blow, the man was unconscious, though Hannibal, no longer in full control, continued to pummel the man's face and body, his own hands now cut by the jagged bits of teeth that still remained within the man's mouth.
The first attacker, seeing his family member being so savagely maimed, attempted to intervene, though the arm Hannibal broke dangled at his side, useless.
"Hey, Lecter! Lecter! My brother got no more fight in him so if you want some more you come and see me about it… Come on…I can beat you with one arm tied behind my back so this won't be no trouble."
Having been momentarily cataleptic, the sound of the first man's voice snapped Hannibal awake. He looked up from the unconscious man, almost confused, then turned to find the first thug holding the recovered knife in his left hand.
Climbing over the now fully unconscious man, Hannibal pushed off on the prone mugger's chest, forcing a harsh involuntary exhalation of stale air and bloody spit.
Hannibal stood, face bleeding, his left eye partially closed from the punches he absorbed. As the rain teemed down the planes of his face, pouring from his chin and the tip of his nose, Hannibal Lecter growled, "That weapon will not help you."
"It ain't gonna help you none. Sure won't feel too good stickin' outta your ribs neither."
Hannibal stood, chest heaving more from the adrenalin coursing through his system than the effort and with his bloodied fists clenched at his side as he assured, "My earlier invitation stands. I will not attack, but rest assured, I will defend myself in whatever way I must to assure I return to my wife and son."
Normally, the thief would have run off by now, but this partner was not an acquaintance; he was family and was incapacitated. He'd have to attempt to wake him if they had any chance of escaping before the police arrived. The mugger, in pain and obviously overmatched understood he and his brother were running out of time. It was becoming increasingly obvious that not only was the wallet no longer within reach; they'd be lucky to escape arrest.
The ruffian began to circle to the right, in an effort to move Hannibal away from his brother.
Hannibal watched every twitch of the man's muscles, every shift of his body language. He surveyed the man's sightline and the dilation of the pupils. Hannibal stepped one foot carefully over the other, feeling at the ground before fully shifting his weight to each step, knowing the deluge compromised his footing.
When the attacker reached his brother he bent over careful to keep eyes on Hannibal, and kicked at the man's body in an attempt to rouse him to consciousness.
"Hey…hey…get up…get up man…"
The bloodied man didn't move, though his chest rose and fell making it obvious he was merely unconscious, not dead.
The gangster with the knife then faced Hannibal.
"If he's in a coma..I'm gonna fucking kill you!"
"Would you like me to administer first aid? I am a doctor."
"Fuck you!"
The man attacked, with his arm flapping behind him like a broken wing. He steamrolled Hannibal and as the pair collided, the doctor crossed his wrists to block the knife. The assailant attempted to drive the blade downward into Hannibal's chest. The rain making his grip slippery, he was only able to partially block the knife.
The blade tore into Hannibal's forearm, ripping at the flesh. Ignoring both the pain and the blood pouring down his arm, gripping the wrist still holding the blade, Hannibal dropped onto the ground and pulled the aggressor down as he planted his right foot onto the man's chest, cartwheeling him over and slamming him on his back.
Scrambling across the ground, slipping and sliding in the mud, Hannibal crawled over his assailant, planted his knees on the man's sternum to take control of the knife. He lofted the blade, holding it in both fists as he prepared to drive it into the man's chest.
D.C. Police now surrounded the scene. Hannibal could hear the swish of weapons clearing holsters.
"Buddy, Drop the knife and step away from the victim."
The man with the camera, still rolling, interceded.
"No…you've got it wrong…he's the victim…he's the victim."
His chest heaving from the exertion, the knife shaking in his hands, he held it aloft with his eyes on the aggressor's chest, intending to pierce the man's heart. Predator was now fully in control and Hannibal's body was quaking with the effort to stay his own hand.
The officer was unconvinced.
"Doesn't matter if he's the victim or not, he's the one with the knife and since I'm here, he isn't in danger anymore so, he doesn't get to just kill the guy."
The policeman turned his attention to Hannibal, "Hey, Buddy! Put down the knife!"
Again, the man with the camera interjected, "Don't call him Buddy. That's Hannibal Lecter and they beat him pretty senseless. Maybe if you call him by his name…maybe then he might hear you. He got punched in the head an awful lot so he might be a little loopy still. They got a lot of punches in before he turned the tables on them."
The officer turned toward the man with the camera. "Hannibal Lecter? Are you sure? Holy shit…who's dumb enough to attack Hannibal Lecter?"
The father with the camera returned, "Those two idiots. They knew who he was…he warned them. He told them to leave him alone! They wouldn't listen. They tried to rob him. It's him…It's definitely him. I know. We had a conversation just before they jumped him. He was just trying to get home to his family and they attacked. They meant to rob him."
"Holy shit. Okay…I can handle it…holy shit."
The cop holstered his weapon and very slowly approached with his arms stretched out to show he was unarmed. He circled very gingerly until he was in full view of Hannibal. He leaned over and spoke very quietly.
"Doctor Lecter…I'm sorry this happened to you, but we've got this under control now, so you can you put down the knife and step away the perpetrator so we can get some handcuffs on them and some medical attention for you. You look a bit banged up and your arm has a good sized gash in it."
Holding the blade, Hannibal's eyes flashed to the officer. The man gasped the moment he and Hannibal made eye contact, the glow from within Hannibal's eyes catching him off-guard. Seeing the shock in the man's face, Hannibal looked away and lowered the weapon. He held the knife in his hand, palm up and open, offering the weapon to the officer.
The policeman moved slowly and very carefully secured the knife. He then offered a hand and helped Hannibal to his feet.
"We'll call your wife and get you to the hospital, Doctor. You'll need some stitches."
Hannibal surveyed his arm and shook his head. "No, thank you. I'm fine. I can take treat this injury myself."
The officer pointed to the camera. "No need for you to make a statement. The entire attack was caught on camera. If you could stop by and sign the paperwork tomorrow, that'd be good enough."
Hannibal nodded. "Yes…I'll do that. Thank you, Officer."
Walking up to his acquaintance with the camera, Hannibal extended his hand, still shaking from the adrenalin surging throughout his system.
The man took his hand and immediately apologized, "I should have stepped in…I'm sorry, Doctor."
"No. You should not have stepped in, my friend. You have a young family as well and might have been killed. I thank you for your intervention on my behalf. Without photographic evidence and your willingness to speak on my behalf, this may have gone very differently. I have not always had the best experience when it comes to law enforcement. Based on the dominant position I was able to achieve and my history they would have inaccurately identified me as the attacker."
Shaking Hannibal's hand, the concerned man questioned, "Are you sure you're okay, Doctor? You don't live far from me…I could drive you home or maybe call your wife?"
"No…thank you. My car isn't far. I'll be fine."
The man held out the camera.
"I got it all on film and figured you'd like the tape. Maybe you can use it as evidence. Plenty of people would pay a lot of money for it…the news and such. You could get another donation for that orphanage you support."
Hannibal waved a hand, signaling his polite refusal.
"No. Please, feel free to sell it to the highest bidder, my friend. You may consider it my donation to your daughter's college fund. For now, I'll return to my wife, though I'll need to clean up a bit before I will be presentable. It seems I am a bit worse for the wear."
"Well, you look a damned sight better than they do, Doctor Lecter. Allow me to say that the whole thing was pretty impressive. I have to say...pretty damned impressive. I'm happy to have met you."
"I'm happy to have met you as well."
Invigorated by the altercation, Hannibal walked briskly back to his car, his adrenalin pumping, his pulse throbbing in his ears. Having successfully taking his frustrations out on the attackers, he was energized. He was ready to go home.
Hannibal drove to his home and parked outside, sitting very still as he took inventory of his body's reaction. He sat in the vehicle for several minutes, breathing deeply, closing the doors within his mind as he prepared to join his family.
It was quite late, and by the look of the lights, Clarice was already upstairs, asleep. Hannibal entered the home silently and moved up the staircase. He went to the hallway linen closet and retrieved his medical kit and a bottle of sterile water.
Entering his bedroom, he listened to the pattern of his wife's breathing and determined she was sleeping. Hannibal's nostrils flared.
Devyni?
Hannibal turned to see that Clarice had moved the baby from his crib to the cradle in their bedroom.
You didn't expect me home and wanted to keep your child close. My brave Clarice…
Hannibal carried the supplies to the bathroom, showered quickly and flushed the knife wound. He then used a series of butterfly closures to seal the injury. A bandage would too obviously signal a problem. He decided an ace bandage could be used to cover the gauze. He quickly wrapped the elastic support over the surgical dressing.
Looking in the mirror, Hannibal assessed the physical damage. It was superficial, but fairly extensive. He would be able to hide the harm from his wife tonight in the dark, but tomorrow in the light of day it would be another matter entirely. His eye was very swollen and would most certainly blacken. There were cuts on his face and his knuckles were bloodied and raw. The bruises would be quite imposing.
Clarice will not be pleased…
Putting on his robe, he could hear his son beginning to stir. Hannibal lifted the baby from the cradle and nuzzling his nose along the boy's cheek inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent of his child. This familiar aroma, now a comfort, calmed him.
Becoming Father, Hannibal whispered to his son, "Are you hungry, Little One? Let us bring you to your mother. She will nourish us both. You at her breast and me in her arms."
Hannibal carried the baby to his sleeping wife. He spoke very gently so as not to startle her.
"Clarice, wake up…Clarice…young Hannibal is hungry. Your son needs you."
Clarice rolled over. Though she couldn't see him, in the low light, Hannibal's vision was quite clear. He could see her eyes were swollen.
You have been crying? Forgive me, my Love…
Shocked to hear his voice, Clarice questioned, "H? H? You're back?"
"It's my job to bring the baby to you, Clarice. I will never shirk my responsibility to either of you. He's hungry and I am not capable of tending to that need."
Hannibal placed the baby in her arms very carefully shielding his wounds from his wife's view. It being white, she noticed the bathrobe.
Offering her breast to their son she questioned her husband, "You showered?"
Hannibal took several steps backward, careful to keep his wounds out of view.
"Yes, I was caught in the storm. I was careful not to wake you."
Turning her attention to their son, Clarice relaxed slightly. Hannibal had, after all, come home. "Thanks…that was sweet. Can we talk, H?"
Still not emotionally up to the effort of a long conversation, Hannibal stated simply, "Clarice…feed the child."
"Okay, H…I'm not going to push you. Take your time and when you're ready to talk about it you come to me, okay? I won't ask you again."
"Yes, I will, my Love, but not tonight."
"You okay?"
"Now that I am home…yes…I am."
Hannibal sat beside her on the edge of the bed as she cuddled with their son, careful to keep his back to her as she nursed. Several minutes later, Hannibal could hear the baby's breathing alter slightly and the suckling noises halt.
"Has the boy finished nursing?"
"Yeah, he's sleeping now."
"Shall I return him to his crib or would you like to hold him as we sleep."
"I'd rather be held right now, H, but I don't know how you feel about that."
Hannibal paused.
"Never mind, H. I know I've been forcing a lot on you. Like I said, whenever you're ready. I'm just thankful you came home tonight. I wasn't sure when you'd be back."
Without speaking, Hannibal took his sleeping son from his wife's arms and walked toward the door. He turned in the doorway, faced Clarice and spoke quietly.
"Permit me a moment, Clarice and I shall place our son in his crib and return to you. While I have no desire to talk, at this moment, I want nothing more than to hold you...if you'll allow."
"Of course, I'll allow it. Hurry back to me, H. Hurry back..."