Chapter 4

Clarice Starling knew she had to meet Hannibal Lecter again. She spent her days conjuring up a plan on how to do so. She took the cookbook he loved and kept for years in his cell and decided on a code for their communication. One only Doctor Lecter would catch. However, she knew with the FBI hot on their trail that she would have to layer a few things first. She sat down with her pen and notepad and began writing. Over the past three days she acquired her fake passport, ID, changed her hair again, and had purchased a laptop to monitor how things were going on the news.

"The only chance they have of catching me or Dr. Lecter Would be to use all of the information I had accumulated before my suspension. They had never even come close to catching him before me. But if I am going to meet him, I have to be careful."

She glanced out the window of her hotel room overlooking the city. It was dark out now and traffic was picking up. No doubt late night rush hour of people getting off of work. She felt exhausted from all of the running around over the past three days. She had been to eight cities and had very little rest. She decided to make this hotel room her home base for the next two days. She decided she needed to recover and be the first one to initiate contact with Lecter. He was most likely waiting on her for the first move. Clarice surmised the Doctor would lay low and try to recover from the trauma to his hand, as well as see what game she had in store for him. She would send her message to him in two days time, but until then, she must think and keep an eye on the FBI.

Will Graham stood out in his backyard shooting empty beer cans from a log. The sound made a resounding pop, pop, pop, pop. He sighed and walked back over to the log tossing the beer cans into an overflowing trash can. He went around to the front of his house to his mailbox, grabbed the mail, and walked to his porch where he sat to divide the letters up.

"Junk, junk, junk…"

He heard a car heading down his driveway and peaked his head overtop of the letters. Pearsall stepped out of the black sedan.

Will grimaced, "Oh great…more junk."

He stood up and walked down the steps to greet Pearsall as close to his car as he could to avoid any prolonged conversations. He didn't want this man coming too close to his house, taking a seat, and trying whatever bullshit he was sure he was going to pull.

"Will Graham?"

"Depends, who is asking?"

"Clint Pearsall with the FB…."

"No I am not Will Graham. "

Pearsall took off his sun glasses and gave him a hard stare, "You sure as hell look like him."

Graham met his gaze, "Then look elsewhere."

He turned to walk back up the stairs to his house.

"It is about Hannibal Lecter."

Graham turned back around again, "Then it's a hell no. Maybe you didn't realize this but a few years back, a man named Jack Crawford tried this same shit."

"I know what Jack did Will, I am sorry for what happened. I would assume that is precisely why you would help. You know, catch the man who ruined your fucking life?"

Will smiled, "You are going to have to try a lot harder than that. I am busy, fuck off."

Will finally reached the door and Pearsall came right up behind him shouting, "You are busy? Busy doing what Will? From the looks of things drinking and repairing fucking boats. What is the harm in hearing me out?"

"You must think I am really stupid. I know why you are here. Hannibal Lecter has escaped and so has that woman….what was her name?"

"Clarice Starling. She was a former agent of ours who we sent to communicate with Lecter years ago on the Buffalo Bill case."

"Looks like that bastard Crawford didn't learn from his mistakes the first time."

Pearsall grabbed Will and slammed him up against the side of his house, "Don't you dare speak of Jack that way! He was a good man. Far from perfect, but he was much better than you. You sorry drunkard. Your wife left you, your kid is gone, and you have nothing left. So tell me why you aren't going to help me!"

Will pushed Pearsall off of him and straightened his shirt, "If I am so pathetic then why do you need my help?"

"Don't play games, we both know why I am here. You are the only person who has ever caught him. Come on Will this is your chance to catch this guy and take him down."

"I said no."

Will grabbed the door.

"I have something to offer you."

"I don't need money."

"Not money Will, but what I have to offer has to stay between you and me."

Will turned around intrigued. "What do you think you have to offer me?"

Pearsall looked at the ground then back up to Will and remained silent for a moment, "I don't want Hannibal Lecter in custody, I don't want him to have the death penalty, I don't want him to stand trial, and I don't want him in an insane asylum."

"What do you want then Pearsall? He has to stand trial even if it's for death."

"Dead. I want him dead. I don't want there to be any chance of him surviving. Going to trial, it could take months or years. He has the money. I want him dead. That is my offer to you. All the power of the FBI will be at your fingertips, and you don't have to bring him in or catch him. I want you to kill him. Kill the man that ruined your life, kill the man that took the lives of so many officers and agents."

Will remained silent for a long moment and stared off into the distance at the black sedan. His eyes glazed over and he seemed lost in thought. The trees were blowing in the wind, no doubt due to an incoming tropical storm.

"Give me the rest of the day to figure this out."

Pearsall nodded and handed him his card. "I will be in town for the day before flying back to Quantico tomorrow. If you agree, you fly back with me."

"Agreed."