Chapter 33

Hannibal watched the sky shed its sleeping colors from their hotel room window overseeing the lake. He stood close to the window, but not too close to fog it and spoil the view. Though his days in the Baltimore asylum were nothing more than a deprecated hall of memories in his mind - every savory second had been moved to another wing - the joy of sleeping with open curtains was a sensory amuse he'd sported since. Slowly awaking from increasing natural illumination was incomparable. How unfortunate the ferry landed at nine. He would have loved to just watch the birth of a new day. These first rays would have to make do.

Ah, well, there was compensation in store. Today would bring death to the twins. But by whose hands was still a mystery to him. Clarice held a grudge against the aggressive one, she would insist on being his executioner, but her grudge might cloud her judgment. He would bring the topic to her attention while en route to Seyðisfjörður.

Behind him Clarice zipped her bag and approached him. Her left arm snuck around his body - she always tried to keep her right arm free, just in case - and positioned herself behind him, her chin against his shoulder, her eyes on the lake, too.

"Ready and happy."

"Happy? I'm flattered."

"All happiness depends on a leisurely breakfast," she replied with a grin, "and half an hour was more than leisurely enough for me."

"There's still some work to do, I see. Half an hour's the absolute minimum to break one's fast. Quoting Gunther compensates your rushed table manners... partially."

She pricked her right index finger in his side before he swiftly turned around and faced her. [MB]

"Poking the dragon, love?" he asked, teeth gleaming.

"I like to tempt the beast," she said, smiling. Then she sobered, an intensity entering her eyes. "I've been looking forward to today."

He placed a kiss on her forehead. "Of course. I shall dilly dally no more."

She snorted at the affected British accent he'd assumed and reached for a small pistol on the dresser and slipped it into her ankle holster. Then she headed for the door and he followed.

.

The ferry arrived five minutes early.

Clarice and Hannibal sat at an outdoor café table, stylish sunglasses and hats effectively obscuring their faces from the departing passengers a few dozen meters away across the dock. Just two more among the gaggle of tourists seeking a morning caffeine jolt.

The ferry docked and the crew extended a ramp to the dock. Within minutes people poured out. Couples exited, hands entwined. Children cried out, some enthusiastic, some exhausted and mewling. A senior tour group of a dozen members made their way down the ramp, some with walkers and wheelchairs, their progress painfully slow.

The twins were among the last to disembark.

They'd made no attempt to alter their appearance. Clarice blew out a breath. "Arrogant shits," she muttered.

One twin strode forward with large, ground-eating strides. People parted and made way for him. The second followed his brother with equally long legs, but his movements were somehow… diminutive. Even from the distance a crushing anxiety was clear on his face.

The first was obviously the leader, and the second followed with reluctance, likely in most aspects of life, including their recent bloody exploits. His reluctance didn't matter to Clarice, though. He followed. He helped. So he would be dealt with, the same as the other. [D]

As agreed, Hannibal rose and started towards the twins. The subordinate one had met him when they'd tried to sell him the knife in Innsbruck but it had been Clarice who'd done the talking, they hadn't seen him in Munich, and he'd donned a completely different outfit today. The chance of recognition was acceptable. He'd move in slowly, and follow. Clarice would pay and leave and get the car.

Slowly, not to draw any unnecessary attention, Hannibal diminished the distance between him and the brothers. Carefully he avoided bumping into other people, or near-collisions, as they'd certainly draw attention. He merged into the crowd, a lion hiding within the flock.

He was close now, close enough to hear their primary target give his instructions to the other one.

"Let's go there, that corner, and try and get a ride. You got the sign?"

"Yeah, I have it."

Unfortunately, Hannibal couldn't read the sign from where he walked.

"Okay. I'm sure someone will give us a ride soon, I read the people here are very assisting."

"I guess so."

"Once we get to the hotel, we'll drop off our luggage and have a look at the place, see if we can find what we need..."

"Sure."

Hannibal looked to his left and saw Clarice ready with the car. He couldn't risk being this close much longer, but he'd heard enough anyway. He moved on and closed the distance to the vehicle where Clarice waited anxiously.

"And?"

"They're trying to get a ride to their hotel. I couldn't read the sign but it most probably says Egilsstaðir. All we need to do is keep out of sight, spot the Samaritan, and follow. They plan on dropping off their luggage and explore the city."

"Right."

"They'll try their luck over there," Hannibal said, and pointed. "They will have their backs to us, which is good, but we won't be able to read the sign."

"That doesn't matter. We'll simply follow."

It took only fifteen minutes before someone stopped for them. The man even helped them load their bags into the trunk.

"Here we go..." Clarice said.

To their surprise, they had to follow the vehicle for nearly four hours to the town of Akureyri. [MB]

Sleepy village came to mind though she knew it was one of the larger urban areas in the country. The harbor seemed busy enough with ships coming and going, but most storefronts were void of people and traffic was light.

"I know this is a large town by Iceland's standards, but seriously, how many police officers do you think they have on staff here?" Clarice asked, pulling her eyes from the nearly deserted road for a moment to meet Hannibal's gaze.

"Five, actually," he answered, amused.

"Seriously?" she asked, then added, "Why do you know that?"

"It made national news last month. They had something of a crime wave between a few traffic incidences and a domestic dispute, and they ran out of available officers."

"Hmm," she said, and grew quiet, thinking of the repercussions of their pending hunt. It would keep the local law enforcement busy for weeks and likely months and would stay with them for years. As they neared retirement they'd recall it to rookies, details both elaborated upon and embellished throughout the years.

She wondered what catchy moniker the press would saddle the twins with.

And for a moment she allowed herself to envision the headlines if the twins managed to best them today and the locals found her and Hannibal's bodies instead. It would be internationally sensational. Probably would make for some damn entertaining reading. And it was never gonna happen. Not in a million years, but it was a best practice not to get too cocky.

"He's dropping them off," Hannibal said.

"I see," she said, and drove past, resisting the urge to turn her head. [D]