NMSL III CHAPTER 166

THE WOLF OF PARIS

Hannibal stood on the platform of the merry-go-round with his arms wide, hands tightly gripping the support poles of his children's carousel horses. Arms lifting as the painted ponies rose and fell, Hannibal's eyes searched the crowd with the same intensity in which he watched his children. Popil would arrive, of that he was certain. The only thing of which Hannibal was uncertain was whether or not Popil would be armed. He'd received many texts from Clarice on his "known" cell phone. These were messages she'd understand could be subpoenaed in a criminal investigation. Popil was missing. The bodies were found. The hunt was on.

"Daddy?" Dev questioned, "That man you didn't want us to meet?"

"What of him, my son?"

"Will we be seeing him soon?"

Hannibal blinked, his eyes having begun to water from his heightened vigilance. Perhaps the boy noticed? "I don't expect him, but fate often has plans for which we must prepare."

"And you're prepared, aren't you, Daddy?"

"Oh, just stop, Dev," Angel spoke as she hopped her bottom up and down on the painted horse she rode as if to spur him on. "Daddy is always prepared. You don't ever have to be afraid."

"I didn't say I was afraid," Devyni insisted.

"You didn't have to say it," Angel responded, "We can taste it."

Taste it? So much like her mother…unafraid.

"Hannibal, when I was your age I was very much afraid. Fear isn't something of which one should be ashamed. It's a mechanism to alert us to the possibility of danger. Don't be embarrassed by it. Use it." Hannibal rubbed his son's back, comforting him. Something was close. He could feel it. Angel could taste it, and Dev sensed it as well. Perhaps Popil was near?

Hannibal turned to Logan. "He's close."

Logan nodded. "Yeah, I can feel it too."

Just as Hannibal's nostrils flared, catching a familiar scent on the breeze, Angel sneezed and shook her head. "There's something stinky. Smells like an old honeypot that got dropped in a toilet or something."

Hannibal turned toward the scent. Popil was stumbling through the crowd, searching. He turned to Logan. "As soon as the ride ends, we're moving. Quickly."

"You have a direction? A plan?" Logan whispered in a tone so low only Hannibal would hear him.

Hannibal nodded. "The tunnel des Tuileries. I'll rent a cargo bike and take the children inside. Follow behind us so you can take over if need be. We'll stop often so you'll be able to follow easily on foot. The children will enjoy both the walk and the artwork, and I can move quickly to separate myself from you all if need be. He isn't interested in anyone but me."

"I've got the kids, don't worry about that. But, Doc…Clarice will kill me if…"

Hannibal wrapped his arms around his children and set them down as the ride slowed to a stop. "Of that I'm infinitely aware."

Hannibal rented a bike that would accommodate the children. Logan waited nearby, watching carefully. Hannibal assisted the children onto the bike's shared bench seat, putting on their helmets, and securing their feet on the rail-like platform. The siblings giggled excitedly. "This is going to be so much fun!" Dev announced excitedly. Angel reached back and grabbed Dev's hands, placing them around her from behind. "Don't let go! Just in case we go fast!"

"Don't worry," he assured, "you're safe. I'd never let go."

Hannibal kissed their cheeks as he tightened the straps on the bike helmets. "You're safe. Always. I'll be very careful, and Uncle Logan will be following closely behind.

Angel's brow knitted in doubt, she asked plainly, "Can't Uncle Logan ride a bike?"

Hannibal laughed, "Yes, of course he can, but it's much more practical if one of us walks and the other rides. Perhaps he and I will take turns. That could be fun. Would you like that?"

The children nodded, and, as if reading each other's minds, pronounced simultaneously, "That would be fun!"

Within minutes, Hannibal and the children were deep in the tunnel. Logan lingered at the entrance for a time, wary. Seeing nothing suspicious, he slipped inside, following.

Hannibal stopped at several pieces of artwork, allowing the children to dictate both the pace, and where they stopped. The animal pieces seemed to generate the most interest, with Devyni enjoying the elephant, and Angel, perhaps not uncharacteristically, loved the shark the most. Both laughed uncontrollably at the pop art image Oeuvre de Dawal, appearing as if a floating bus had come to life. It's colorful composition, expressive face and pointed nose were a hit with the pair. Hannibal, watching the movement around him, saw Logan running up the far side of the tunnel. Had he seen something, or was he using the opportunity to catch up to them. The children still discussing how silly they thought the painting was, Logan reached Hannibal.

"Have you seen anything out of the ordinary?" Hannibal asked.

Logan leaned close. "Nothing, but the hair on the back of my neck…you know?"

Hannibal nodded. "Yes. I do know." Suddenly, Hannibal lifted his face, searching the air for a scent he'd thought he caught. He turned and looked ahead, but couldn't see his intended target. "He's far more familiar with this area than we are—having lived his entire life within miles of this place. He's here, but I'm unable to pinpoint exactly where. Just out of eyesight, I assume. I think it's time for me to look on foot."

Logan approached the kids. "Hey, cool helmets! Do I get one?"

They ignored the helmet comment, more focused on the artwork in front of them. "Have you seen this picture, Uncle Logan? He's got a body like a bus, wings like a swan, a bunch of windows like portholes, and a propeller coming out of his bum! A bum propeller!" Angel announced for all to hear, "So is he toots, he can blow it away."

"Or blow it at people!"

The children giggle uncontrollably.

Hannibal shook his head, but was glad for the distraction. "Would you like Uncle Logan to take his turn at riding the bike with you?"

Flapping his hands toward himself, waving for the children to choose him. Logan furthers the comment, "Maybe we can find more Bum-Copters. Using toots like a stinky bum weapon!"

"BUM-COPTERS!" The children squeal. "YAAAAAAY!"

Hannibal drops his chin to his chest, looking up at Logan and shaking his head. "Lovely. You can explain the Bum-copters to Clarice."

"My bad, Doc," Logan apologized, "I got caught up in the moment.

"Ride safely and enjoy. I won't be far behind." Patting Logan on the back and quickly kissing his children, Hannibal stepped aside, allowing Logan to drive off with the children. He stood for a moment, watching them drive onward to their next selected painting. Hannibal then took off down the tunnel, away from the direction of his family. He stalked along the edges, finally spotting Popil standing beside a painting of a leaping wolf, his body being transformed from a scattered tumbling of Eiffel towers.

Standing just over his right shoulder, Hannibal hissed in his ear, "Hello, Inspector."

"You knew to come here? How?"

"I knew you would be in public, as you would not meet me without terms in private for fear of swift retribution. I knew if I remained in the area of the Louvre, knowing the term Amende honorable, and its history in this area, you'd look for me here."

Popil sobbed. "I thought they might be in danger."

"My children?"

"Yes."

Hannibal was unmoved by the man's tears. "No, you did not. In fact, you would know I would defend them with my life. In fact, they are more in danger from you, than they would ever be in my presence. My wife, as well."

"What of my wife? You killed her."

"I did not. She was dying a long, protracted death. You provided minimal palliative care. She was comatose, and very near death. I provided a merciful service to her. That is all."

Popil stared forward. "This reminds me of you. The wolf, exploding from all that is Paris. From Beauty, danger."

"You left more bodies in Paris than I ever did." Hannibal inched slightly away from the man, not wishing to appear threatening. "Let us not forget that, Inspector."

His body trembling, "I have forgotten nothing."

Hannibal breathed deeply. The scent of his children was beginning to fade. They were far from him now. "What are your intention, Popil?"

"I want you dead."

"And do you think I'll allow that?"

Popil finally turned toward Hannibal. "I am quite certain you will not. I'm trying to decide where that leaves us."

People passed by, laughing and joking. None noticing the men in their conversation of death. Hannibal placed a hand he knew would appear consoling on Popil's shoulder. "You removed a memento from the grave of my aunt. You desecrated her grave in that action, and dishonored yourself once more in my eyes. I cannot see my way to forgive that action, but if you can find some way to make amends, for the love of my aunt, my precious children, and most especially, my wife, I will consider your apology. Investigators are at your home. They have, no doubt, discovered your pathetic attempt to frame me. I will not allow myself to be taken. That is my choice. I leave you, to yours. My fate is with my family. You may tempt yours by continuing to pursue me, or you can face the fate you've stalled for decades, and confess to your crimes. You will be judged, Popil. You must now choose the manner or man to whom you most trust your fate."

Popil lowered his eyes, staring at the ground. Hannibal wheeled around, walking off to find his family.

"Come back here, Hannibal Lecter! Popil's voice rang out through the tunnel. "Come back here!" People began to turn their cameras toward Popil, forgoing their tourist memories to capture his breakdown. "Come back here, Hannibal! I will never make amends! I will never ask forgiveness from you! I'm not finished with you, Hannibal! You can't kill me! You can't kill me! Not if I kill you first! Not if I kill you first!"

Hannibal walked off and no matter what Popil continued to scream, he did not turn back. He walked calmly to his family, praised his children loudly for such wonderful behavior, and switching seats with Logan, pedaled off. As Hannibal drove the cart bike, the children laughed aloud. Eventually, they even drove past Popil— Hannibal unwilling to avoid the area. Cameras turned toward them, trained on Hannibal and his children as they passed that broken man who'd crumbled to the ground surrounded by onlookers.

The children were so well-behaved, even as they returned the cargo bike to the rental station, that Hannibal agreed to find a place to have something to eat. Logan and Hannibal conferred, deciding to take the family to Café Louise, choosing the outdoor dining option. It was an obvious selection in a very well-traveled area. The more people who noticed their activities that day, the better off they would be. In this location, they would, no doubt, be seen. The children asked if they could be seated at an adjacent table to the adults so they could watch the passersby and pretend to be adults dining alone. Though Hannibal agreed, Logan was wary.

"We're seated in a very obvious place, Doc. Not very discreet. You sure about this? I don't know if that old psychopath is armed."

"Likely he is, in one manner or another, but I'm not concerned about that. In fact, I'd welcome it." Hannibal smiled, but didn't elaborate. "Quite sure, you're correct. Eyes open. No doubt my elderly chasseur has recovered from his tantrum and will be watching."

Logan took out his phone and began tapping at the keyboard. "Chasseur…Soldier?"

"A swift one, in a manner of speaking, though this particular soldier would have lost a step or two over the years." Hannibal lifted his wine glass, pretending to check the color and clarity, though he was searching the air, tracking a scent until he sighted Popil watching from across the street. Logan leaned toward Hannibal, noting the same.

"He's already out there, isn't he?"

Hannibal sipped the wine, then tilted the glass in the direction of Popil. "He is. Two-o'clock."

"Got him." Logan scooted his chair closer to the children, though he didn't insert himself in their pretend-adult activities. "You have a plan. Anything I need to know?"

"No, but Clarice must be made aware." Hannibal's eyes were locked on Popil who was lurking across the roadway, pacing back and forth. He was dragging what appeared to be a thick rope behind him. With each turn of his pacing, the rope began to wrap in a wide swath around him.

"Understood. What's he got there?" Logan asked, craning for a better look.

Hannibal reached into his jacket pocket and tugged out his burner phone. "I'm not sure what he's on about, but it appears to be a rope of some sort. Odd…or, now that I think about it, perhaps very on-point. It could be either. It seems my nemesis has a plan or is very close to formulating one. If so, I'm going to assist him in expediting his fate. I will need you to protect the children, should he move in a direction I cannot foresee. Desperate men, you know?"

Logan nodded. "I know."

Hannibal took the napkin off his lap and with the dexterity of a master prestidigitator, slipped the burner phone inside. Once in the napkin, he turned the object over and over within, removing any fingerprints. "Drop Clarice a pin. She'll come, if she can."

"I will, but don't worry, Doc," Logan assured as he covertly took the phone from Hannibal. "If not, I've got this." He lowered his voice further, in a whisper far below what the normal ear would perceive, "With my life…you understand."

Hannibal's eyes never left Popil. Standing, he said softly, "I would expect no less from you, my dear friend. Let us hope it does not come down to that."

Until the next chapter, dear friends,

L.H.