Whatcom County Sheriffs Deputy Guild
The silence of the Lambs
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WILHELM HEYNE VERLAG
HEYNE GENERAL SERIES No. 01/8294
Title of the original edition THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS Translated from the American by Marion Dill
10th edition Copyright © 1988 by Yazoo, Inc. Copyright © of the German edition 1990 by Wilhelm Heyne Verlag GmbH & Co. KG, Munich Printed in Germany 1991 Cover illustration: Columbia Tri-Star Filmgesellschaft mbH, Munich Interior illustrations: Columbia Tri-Star Filmgesellschaft mbH , Munich Cover design: Atelier Ingrid Schütz, Munich Complete production: Ebner Ulm ISBN3-4S3-05136-X
In memory of my father
If I fought with wild animals in human opinion at Ephesus, what good does it do me? If the dead are not raised ...
1 Corinthians 15:32 Do I have to look at a skull in a ring when I have one in my face?
John Donne,> Prayers
the graves; other employees did not know what the word digging meant. Dr. Chilton was sitting behind his desk when Clarice Starling entered his office. "We saw a lot of detectives here, but I can't remember one that handsome," Chilton said without standing. Starling knew intuitively that the sheen on his outstretched hand was lanolin from feeling his hair. She quickly let go of his hand. “Miss Sterling, isn't it?” “Starling, Doctor, with a. Thanks for your time. ”“ So now the FBI has to use girls, ha, ha. ”He added the beaming smile with which he used to separate sentences. “The Bureau is improving, Dr. Chilton. It certainly does. "" Are you in Baltimore for a few days? You know, you might as well have fun here as in Washington or New York if you know the city. ”She looked away to save his smile and knew immediately that he had registered her dislike. “It must be a great city, but my orders are, Dr. To visit Lecter and report back this afternoon. "" Could I call you somewhere in Washington for a follow-up, later? "" Of course. It's kind of you to remember that Spedal Agent Jack Crawford is overseeing this project and you can always reach me through him. ”“ I see, ”Chilton said. His pink-mottled cheeks didn’t match the improbable reddish brown of his hair cap. "Give me your ID, please."
stand by the leisurely check of their ID.
Then he gave it back to her and got up. “This won't be long
“I assumed you would give me specific instructions, Dr.
Chilton, ”said Starling.
"I can do that while we're on our way."
Looking at his wristwatch, he came around his desk.
"I have lunch in half an hour."
Damn it, she should have seen through him better, faster. He may not have been a complete sucker. Perhaps he knew something useful. She wouldn't have broken a smile even if she wasn't good at it. "Dr. Chilton, I have an appointment with you now. He was
set at your convenience if you give me some time
could. Things could be spoken about during the interview
come - I may have to include some of his answers
Go through with you. "
“I really, really doubt it. Oh, I have to make a phone call
before we go. I'll meet you in the field office. "
"I would like to leave my coat and umbrella here."
"Out there," said Chilton. “Give it to Alan on the outside
office. He'll put it away. "
Alan was wearing the pajamas-like items given to the inmates
che robe. He was wiping the corner of his shirt
He rolled his tongue in his cheek as he saw Starling's coat
"Thank you," she said.
“But please, go ahead. How often do you shit? ”Asked Alan.
"What did you say?"
"Is it coming out la-a-a-a-ang?"
"I hang my things up somewhere myself."
“There's nothing in the way - you can bend over and
watch it come out and see if it changes color
since, when it comes out, do you do that? Does it look like you have a big brown tail? "" Dr. Chilton wants to see you in his office, right now, ”Starling said. "No, I don't want to," said Dr. Chilton. “Put your coat in the closet, Alan, and don't take it out while we're gone. Go ahead. I had an all-day tip, but they took the cuts away from me. Now the girl who let you in is typing here three hours a day, and then I'll have Alan. Where are all the clerks, Miss Starling? ”His glasses glared at her. “Are you armed?” “No, I am not armed.” “May I see your handbag and briefcase?” “You saw my ID.” “It says that you are a student. Let me see your things, please. ”Clarice Starling winced as the first of the heavy steel gates rattled shut behind her and the bolt snapped into place. Chilton led a bit, down the green corridor of the institution in an atmosphere of disinfectant and distant doors slamming. Starling was annoyed with herself for allowing Chilton to rummage through her purse and briefcase, and she had to pull the strap hard to concentrate. It was ok. She felt her control firmly under her, like a good gravel bed in a swift current. "Lecter is a considerable nuisance," Chilton said over his shoulder. “It takes a nurse at least ten minutes a day to remove the wire loops from the monthly journals he receives. We tried to cancel or reduce his subscriptions, but he drafted a brief and the court overruled us. The volume of his private mail used to be enormous. It has, thank God, subsided since he was dwarfed by other creatures on the news. For a while it looked like every little student writing a master's thesis in psychology wanted something
of Lecter in it. He's still in the medical journals, but it's just because of the freak value of his writers. ”“ He did a good article on surgical addiction in the Journal of Clinical Psychiatry, I thought, ”Starling said. 'So, was that you? We tried to study Lecter. We thought:> This is an opportunity to do a milestone study< -="" es="" ist="" so="" selten,="" einen="" lebend="" zu="" bekom="" men.«="" »einen="" was?«="" »einen="" reinen="" soziopathen,="" denn="" das="" ist="" er="" ja="" offensichtlich.="" er="" ist="" jedoch="" unergründlich,="" viel="" zu="" intellektuell="" für="" die="" standard="" tests.="" und,="" meine="" güte,="" was="" haßt="" er="" uns!="" er="" hält="" mich="" für="" seine="" ne="" mesis.="" crawford="" ist="" sehr="" schlau="" -="" nicht?="" -,="" sie="" auf="" lecter="" anzuset="" zen.«="" »wie="" meinen="" sie="" das,="" dr.="" chilton?«="" »eine="" junge="" frau,="" um="">to turn him on by force majeure< zusammen.«="" »vorsätzliche="" -«="" »ich="" sammle="" kircheneinstürze,="" der="" entspannung="" halber.="" ha="" ben="" sie="" den="" neuesten="" in="" sizilien="" gesehen?="" herrlich!="" bei="" einer="" be="" sonderen="" messe="" fiel="" die="" fassade="" auf="" fünfundsechzig="" großmütter.="" war="" das="" böse?="" wenn="" ja,="" wer="" hat="" es="" getan?="" wenn="" er="" dort="" oben="" ist,="" findet="" er="" es="" einfach="" toll,="" officer="" starling.="" lyphus="" und="" schwäne="" es="" kommt="" alles="" vom="" selben="" ort.«="" »ich="" kann="" es="" ihnen="" nicht="" erklären,="" doktor,="" aber="" ich="" weiß,="" wer="" es="" kann.«="" er="" gebot="" ihr="" mit="" erhobener="" hand="" einhalt.="" die="" hand="" war="" wohlge="" formt,="" stellte="" sie="" fest,="" und="" der="" mittelfinger="" perfekt="" verdoppelt.="" es="" war="" die="" seltenste="" form="" von="" polydaktylie.="" als="" er="" wieder="" sprach,="" war="" sein="" ton="" leise="" und="" angenehm.="" »sie="" würden="" mich="" gern="" quantitativ="" bestimmen,="" officer="" starling.="" sie="" sind="" so="" ehrgeizig,="" nicht?="" wissen="" sie,="" wie="" sie="" mir="" vorkommen,="" mit="" ihrer="" guten="" tasche="" und="" ihren="" billigen="" schuhen?="" sie="" sehen="" wie="" ein="" bauerntrampel="" aus.="" sie="" sind="" ein="" gut="" geschrubbter,="" hastender="" bau="" erntrampel="" mit="" ein="" bißchen="" geschmack.="" ihre="" augen="" sind="" wie="" bil="" lige="" synthetische="" steine="" -="" reiner="" oberflächenglanz,="" wenn="" sie="" sich="" an="" eine="" unbedeutende="" antwort="" heranpirschen.="" und="" hinter="" ihnen="" sind="" sie="" gescheit,="" oder?="" verzweifelt="" darauf="" bedacht,="" nicht="" wie="" ihre="" mutter="" zu="" sein.="" gute="" ernährung="" hat="" sie="" mit="" einem="" gewissen="" kör="" perbau="" ausgestattet,="" aber="" sie="" sind="" erst="" eine="" generation="" aus="" den="" ze="" chen="" heraus,="" officer="" starling.="" sind="" es="" die="" starlings="" aus="" west="" virgi="" nia="" oder="" die="" starlings="" aus="" okie,="" officer?="" es="" war="" das="" hochwerfen="" einer="" münze="" zwischen="" college="" und="" den="" möglichkeiten="" im="" weibli="" chen="" armeecorps,="" nicht="" wahr?="" lassen="" sie="" mich="" ihnen="" etwas="" spe="" zielles="" über="" sie="" selbst="" sagen,="" studentin="" starling.="" in="" ihrem="">
you have a necklace of gold plug-in pearls and you feel an ugly little nod when you look at how tasteless they are now, isn't that so? All these dreary thanks, all this genuine fiddling to allow to get all sweaty and sticky once for every pearl. Dreary, dreary, la-a-a-a-n-g-w-e-i-1-i-g. Being smart spoils a lot, doesn't it? And taste is not nice. As you ponder this conversation, you will remember the silent pain of a wounded animal in its face as you got rid of it. If the pearls have become tasteless, what else will the same fate overtake you as you move forward? You are wondering, at night? "Inquired Dr. Lecter himself in the most friendly tone. Starling raised her face to look at him. “You see a lot, Dr. Lecter. I'm not going to deny what you said. But here's the question to which you answer me on the spot, whether you want it or not: Are you strong enough to focus this dynamic perception on yourself? It's hard to face. I've figured that out in the last few minutes. What's up? Take a look and write down the truth. What kind of a more suitable or complex subject could you find? Or maybe you're scared of yourself. "" You are tough, aren't you, Officer Starling? "" To some extent, yes. "" And you would be very dissatisfied with being ordinary. Wouldn't that hurt? My goodness! Well, you are far from ordinary, Officer Starling. They are only afraid of it. What do your pearls look like, seven millimeters? "" Seven. "" Let me make a suggestion. Get some loosely pierced tiger eyes and line them up alternately with the gold beads. Maybe you want to raise her two-and-three or one-and-two, whatever seems best to you. The tiger eyes take on the color of your own eyes
and the blonde strands in your hair. Has anyone ever sent you a Valentine's card? ”“ Yes. ”“ We're already into Lent. Valentine's Day is a week from now, hmmmm, are you expecting any? ”“ You never know. ”“ No, that's right ... I've been thinking about Valentine's Day. It reminds me of something funny. If I give it up, I could make you very happy on Valentine's Day, Clarice Starling. "" How, Dr. Lecter? "" By sending you a beautiful Valentine. I have to think of something. Please excuse me now. Goodbye, Officer Starling. ”“ And the study? ”“ Once a pollster tried to quantify me. I ate his liver with a few fava beans and a large amarone. Go back to school, little Starling. ”Hannibal Lecter, polite to the end, didn't turn his back on her. He backed away from the barrier before turning back to his bunk and, lying on it, moved away from it like a stone crusader lying on a grave. Starling suddenly felt empty, as if she had donated blood. It took her longer than usual to put the papers back in her briefcase because she didn't immediately trust her legs. Starling was steeped in the desire that she so loathed. She folded her chair and leaned it against the door of the equipment cabinet. She would have to pass Miggs again. Some distance away, Barney appeared to be reading. She could call him to pick her up. Fuck Miggs. It was no worse than walking past a squad of construction workers or rowdy drivers in the city every day. She started walking down the corridor again. Beside her, Miggs' voice hissed: "I bit my wrist so I could steeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrr - see how it bleeds?"
She should have called Barney, but startled she looked into the cell, saw Miggs snap her fingers, and felt the warm splashes on her cheek and shoulder before she could turn away. She escaped him, registered that it was semen, not blood, and Lecter called for her, she could hear him. Dr. Lecter's voice behind her, the sharp snarling more pronounced inside her: "Officer Starling." He was up and called after her as she walked on. She rummaged in her pocket for paper towels. Behind her: "Officer Starling." She was in full control of herself and was walking steadily towards the gate. "Officer Starling." A new tone in Lecter's voice. She stopped. 'What in God's name am I so keen on? Miggs hissed something she missed. She stood in front of Lecter's cell again, and it was the rare sight to see the doctor upset. She knew he could smell it on her. He could smell everything. “I would have preferred if this hadn't happened to you. I find rudeness indescribably ugly. ”It was as if committing murders had cleared him of less rudeness. Or maybe it excited him, Starling considered, to see her marked in that particular way. She couldn't tell. The sparks in his eyes flew into his darkness like fireflies down into a cave. 'Whatever it is, use it, Jesus! She held up her briefcase. "Please do this for me." Perhaps she was late, he had calmed down. "No. But I'll make you happy for coming. I will give you something else. I'll give you what you love most, Clarice Starling. "" What is it, Dr. Lecter? "" Ascent, of course. It's developing perfectly - I'm so happy. Valentine's Day brought it to me. ”There was any reason for the smile over his tiny white teeth
can give. He spoke so softly that she could hardly hear him.
“Find your Valentines in Raspail's car. Did you understand me? Look for your Valentines in Raspail's cart. You better go now, I don't think Miggs could make it back anytime soon, even if he's crazy, do you? "
Chapter 4 Clarice Starling was excited, exhausted, and driven only by willpower. Some of the things Lecter had said about her were true and others only marginally touched the truth. For a few seconds she had felt an alien consciousness loosely in her head, sweeping things off the shelves like a bear in a trailer. She hated what he said about her mother, and she needed to get rid of the anger. This was business. She sat in her old pinto across the street from the institution, breathing deeply. When the windows steamed up, she was at least a little hidden from the pavement. Raspail. She remembered the name. He was Lecter's patient and one of his victims. She had only spent one evening with the background material on Lecter. The file was more than extensive, and Raspail was one of many victims. She had to read the details. Starling wanted to approach it briskly, but she knew she was putting the pressure on herself. The Raspail case closed years ago. Nobody was in danger. She had time. Better to be well informed and well advised before moving on. Crawford might take it away from her and give it to someone else. She would have to let it depend on that. She tried to call him from a phone booth but was told that he had asked the Parliamentary Subcommittee to approve funds for the Legal Department. She could have gotten details of the case from the Baltimore Police Department Homicide Squad. But murder is not a federal crime and therefore not a case for the FBI, and she knew it would be removed immediately, no question about it. She drove back to Quantico, back to the Ver
research with its cozy brown-checked curtains and its gray files full of hell. There she sat well into the evening after the last secretary had left and ran the microfilm on Lecter. The stubborn old screen device shone like a will-o'-the-wisp in the darkened room, and the words and negatives swarmed over her concentrated face. Raspail, Benjamin Ren6, white, male, 46, was first flautist with the Balrimor Philharmonic Orchestra and a patient in Dr. Hannibal Lecter's psychiatric practice. On March 22, 1975, he stayed away from a performance in Baltimore. On March 25, his body was found sitting in a pew in a small rural church near Falls Church, Virginia, wearing only a white tie and tails. The autopsy showed that Raspail's heart was pierced and that he was missing the thymus and pancreas. Clarice Starling, who had learned a lot more about meat processing from an early age than she liked, recognized the missing organs as what the butcher called bries. The Baltimore Homicide Squad believed these items appeared in the menu at a dinner Lecter gave for the chairman and conductor of the Bald Morose Philharmonic on the evening after Raspail's disappearance. Dr. Hannibal Lecter declared that he knew nothing about this matter. The chairman and conductor of the Philharmonic stated that they could not remember the dishes served at Lecter's dinner, although Lecter was known for his lavish round tables and had contributed numerous articles to gourmet magazines.The chairwoman of the Philharmonic was later treated for anorexia and problems in connection with alcohol addiction in a holistic nerve sanatorium in Basel. According to Baltimore Police, Raspail was Lecter's ninth known victim. Raspail died without leaving a will, and the
Trials among his relatives over the estate were followed by the newspapers for several months until the public interest waned. Rapail's relatives had also teamed up with the families of other victims in Lecter's office in a successful trial to see the lost psychiatrist's medical history files and tapes destroyed. There was no way of knowing what embarrassing secrets he might be divulging, their arguments were, and the files became documentary evidence. The court had appointed Raspail's attorney Everett Yow as administrator. Sterling would have to go to the lawyer to get the car. The lawyer could protect Raspail's memory and, with sufficient notice, destroy evidence to cover his deceased client. Starling preferred to strike, and she needed advice and authority. She was alone in the behavioral research department and had free access to everything. She found Crawford's home number in the Rolodex. She didn't hear the phone ringing, but suddenly his voice was there, very calm and serene. “Jack Crawford.” “This is Clarice Starling. I hope you weren't at dinner ... ”She had to go on in silence. "... Lecter told me something about the Raspail case today, I'm in the office looking into it. He tells me there's something in Raspail's car. I'd have to get through his lawyer, and since it's Saturday tomorrow - no class - I wanted to ask you if - "" Starling, do you remember what I told you to do with the information about Lecter? Crawford's voice was so terribly calm. “To give you a report on Sunday at 9:00 am sharp.” “Do that, Starling. Do just that. "" Yes, sir. "
The dial tone hurt her ear. The pain spread across her face and made her eyes sting. "Oh goddamn shit," she said. “You old creep. What a son of a bitch. Let Miggs piss you on and see how you like it. ”Starling, scrubbed clean and dressed in her FBI Academy nightgown, was working on the second draft of her report when her dorm room mate, Ardelia Mapp, came from the library came. Mapp's broad, brown, extremely sensible face was one of the more welcome sights of her day, Ardelia Mapp saw the exhaustion on her face. "What did you do today, girl?" Mapp always asked questions as if the answers couldn't possibly make a difference. "Flattered a crazy man who got it." "If only I had time to socialize - I don't know how you can do it, and school too." Starling found himself laughing. Ardelia Mapp laughed with her for as much as the little joke was worth. Starling didn't stop, and she heard herself from far away, laughing on, laughing on and on. Starling's tears made Mapp look oddly old, and there was sadness in her smile.
Chapter 5 Jack Crawford, fifty-three, was reading in a wing chair by a low lamp in the bedroom of his house. He was seated across from two double beds, both raised to hospital level blocks. One bed was his own; in the other lay his wife Bella. Crawford could hear her breathing through her mouth. It had been two days since she had last been able to move or say something to him. She paused a breath. Crawford looked up from his book through his half-glasses. He put the book down. Bella breathed again, a flutter and then a full breath. He got up to put his hand on hers to take her blood pressure and pulse. Over the months he had become an expert in using the blood pressure cuff. Since he didn't want to leave her alone at night, he had set up a bed for himself next to her. And since he wanted to take her hand in the dark, his bed had to be as high as hers. Aside from the height of the beds and the minimal plumbing required for Bella's needs, Crawford had managed to keep this from looking like a sickroom. There were flowers, but not too many. There were no pills in sight - Crawford had cleared a linen closet in the hallway and filled it with her medicines and equipment before bringing her home from the hospital. (It was the second time he had carried her over the threshold of this house, and the thought stole almost all his strength.) A warm air front had come up from the south. The windows were open and the Virginia air was mild and fresh. Little frogs croaked to each other in the dark. The room was spotless, but there was lint on the carpet now - Crawford didn't like pushing the noisy vacuum cleaner around and used a manual carpet sweeper which was not so good. He padded softly
to the closet and turned on the light. There were two clipboards on the inside of the door. On one he noted Bella's pulse and blood pressure. His numbers and those of the day nurse rarely alternated in a row that stretched over many yellow pages, many days and nights. On the other board the nurse had written Bella's medication. Crawford was able to deliver any medicine she might need during the night. Following the instructions of a nurse, he had practiced injections on a lemon and then on his thighs before taking Bella home. Crawford stood by her bed for about three minutes and looked into her face. A beautiful shawl of silk moire covered her hair like a turban. She had insisted on it while she was able. Now he insisted. He moistened her lips with glycerine and removed a speck of dust from the corner of her eye with his broad thumb. She didn't move. It wasn't time to turn them around. At the mirror Crawford made sure that he wasn't sick, that he didn't have to go underground with her, that he was fine himself. He found himself doing it and it made him ashamed. Back in his chair, he couldn't remember what he'd read. He felt for the books next to him to find the one that was still a little warm.
Chapter 6 On Monday morning Clarice Starling found this message from Crawford in her mailbox: CS,
carry on with the raspail cart. In her spare time. My office can get you a long distance credit card number. Check with me before contacting the owner or going anywhere. Report Wednesday 4:00 p.m. The boss received your report on Lecter with your signature. You did well. JC SAlC / Division 8 Starling was feeling pretty good. She knew Crawford was only giving her an exhausted mouse to chase around for practice. But he wanted to teach her. He wanted her to do well. For Starling, that was more than politeness. Kaspail had been dead eight years. What kind of evidence could linger in a car for so long? From family experience, she knew that a court of second instance allows survivors to sell a vehicle before the will is opened because automobiles drop in value so rapidly and that the money is deposited with a third party acting as trustee. It hardly seemed likely that even such a confused and controversial community of heirs as Raspail's would hold onto a wagon for that long. There was also the time problem. When Starling took her day off, she had an hour and fifteen minutes a day to use the phone during business hours. She would have to report to Crawford on Wednesday afternoon. So you stayed to track down the car
a total of three hours and forty-five minutes, spread over three days, when she used her study periods and made up for the missed study time at night. She had good grades from her investigative classes, and she would have an opportunity to ask general questions of her instructors. During her lunch break on Monday, the Baltimore County District Court headquarters tried to put Starling through and forgot three times. During her college years, she reached out to a friendly officer in the courthouse who was pulling out wills on Raspail's estate. The officer confirmed that a vehicle had been approved for sale and gave Starling the type and serial number of the vehicle and the name of a subsequent owner from the transfer papers. On Tuesday, she wasted half of her lunch hour tracking down that name. It took the rest of her lunch break to find out that the Maryland State Motor Vehicle Registration Office is not equipped to identify a vehicle by its serial number, only by its registration number or license plate. On Tuesday afternoon, a downpour drove the trainees off the shooting range. In a conference room steamy with damp clothes and sweat, John Brigham, a former firearms instructor with the Marian Infantry Corps, decided to test the strength of Starling's hand in front of the class and see how often she'd hit a Model 19 Smith & Wes so he could pull the trigger in sixty seconds. She made seventy-four with her left hand, blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, and moved on to her right hand while another student counted. She was in the weaver position and had a good grip on the gun; the front sight was clearly visible, and the rear sight and its provisional target were correspondingly indistinct. After thirty seconds, she let her mind wander to distract herself from the pain. The target on the wall came into focus. It was an enforcement abbey
depended on interstate commerce for their instructor John Brigham
Certificate of Commendation issued.
She asked Brigham out of the corner of her mouth during the
other student counted the click of the revolver.
"How do you get the current approval ..."
»... sixty-five sixty-six sixty-seven six-eight
rig ... «
»... locate a vehicle if you only have the serial number
mer ... «
». ... seventy-eight eighty-nine eighty-one ... "" ... and the type? You don't have a common license plate, "" ... eighty-ninety-nine. Out. "" All right, gentlemen, "said the instructor," I want you to take note of this. Hand strength is a major factor in constant combat shooting. Some of you, gentlemen, fear being called next. Your worries are justified - Starling is way above average with both hands. Because she's working on it. She's working on it with the little squeeze things you all have access to. Most of you are not used to squeezing anything harder than yours - "always wary of his familiar infantry terminology, he tried to make a polite comparison -" than your pimples, "he said at last. “More serious about this, Starling, you're not good enough either. I want to see that left hand over ninety before you graduate. Pair and time each other - hopp hopp! "" Not you, Starling, come here. What else do you have about the vehicle? ”“ Just the serial number and type, nothing more. Previous owner five years ago. ”“ Good, listen. Most make the serious mistake of hopping from one owner to the next through approvals. You get tangled up between the states. I mean, even cops do that sometimes. And approvals and license plates are all the computer has. We're all used to having license plates or registration numbers too
The click of the practice revolvers with the blue handles echoed loudly around the room, and he had to shout in her ear. “There is a method that is easy. R. L. Polk and Company, which publish city phone books - they also publish a list of common vehicle registrations by type and serial number. You are alone in the field. Car dealers direct their advertising with you. How did you know you had to ask me? "" You were with the Interstate Commerce Enforcement Department. I figured you'd tracked down a lot of vehicles. Thank you. ”“ Return the favor - put that left hand where it should be so we can put some of these wimps to shame. ”Back in her college phone booth, her hands shook, making her notes barely legible were. Ras pau's car was a Ford. There was a Ford dealer near the University of Virginia who had done what he could do with their Pinto for years. The dealer went through his polk lists for her just as patiently. He came back on the line with the name and address of the person Benjamin Raspail's car was last registered on. Clarice feels great, Clarice is in control. Stop the foolishness
and call the man at home, let's see number nine,
Ditch, Arkansas. Jack Crawford will never drive me down there
but at least I can confirm who owns the car.
Nobody answered the phone, not even the second time. The
Ringing sounded strange and far away, a double rnr-
Rrrr as with a party line. She tried
evening and received no answer.
On Wednesday at lunchtime, a man took on Starlings
"VPOQ plays the oldies."
"Hello, I'll call to -"
“I don't care about aluminum sidewalls, and I want to
I don't live on a campsite in Florida either, which is what you're looking for
Sterling heard a great deal of hill country in the man's voice
out of Arkansas. In this dialect she could talk to anyone
if she wanted to, and her time was short.
“Yessir, if you could help me out, I would be very much for you
connected. I'm trying to get Mr. Lomax Bardwell. Cla
rice Starling on the line. "
"There's something else to Starling," the man shouted to the rest of him
Household too. "What do you want from Bardwell?"
“This is the Mid-South District Office of the Ford Recall Abbey
lung. He is entitled to free repairs on his
LTD, which are covered by the guarantee? «
“I'm Bardwell. Thought you tried something on this one
to sell discounted telephone tariffs. It's way too late for ir-
gend'ne damage assessment. I need the whole thing. Me and
So my old ones were in Little Rock and are shearing from there
Southland Mall? "
“The damn rod is coming out of the oil pan.
Oil everywhere, and this orkin truck with the big beetle in front
has it. He hit the oil and slid sideways. "
"Lord, have mercy."
“Knocked the Fotomat booth off the cement plinth, and that
Glass fell out. The Fotomat guy came out totally next to it
slips. Had to keep him off the road. "
“Well, I'll eat a broom. Then what happened to him? "
"What happened to whom?"
“I told Buddy Sipper from the junkyard he could do it
for fifty if he would get it. Strongly assume he
took it apart. "
“Could you tell me what his phone number is, Mr.
“What do you want from Sipper? If anyone benefits from it
animal, it should be me. "
“I understand that, sir. I only do what they give me here until five
Say o'clock, and they said find the car. Do you have that number, please? ”“ I can't find my phone book. It's been gone for quite a while now. You know how it is with these grandchildren. If you can get the information, it's Sip per Salvage. ”“ Thank you very much, Mr. Bardwell. ”The junkyard confirmed that the vehicle had been dismantled for recycling and pressed into a cube. The foreman read Starling the vehicle serial number from his records. Fucking house mouse, Starling thought, still not quite out of dialect.Dead end. What a valentine. Starling leaned her head against the cold payphone in the phone booth. Ardelia Mapp, her books on her hip, knocked on the cell door and handed in an orange lemonade. “Thank you, Ardelia. I have to make a call. If I can deal with it in time, I'll catch up with you in the cafeteria, okay? ”“ I was so hoping you would get over that horrible dialect, ”Mapp said. “There are books that will help you. YES never again use the colored patois in my neighborhood. If you keep talking in that accent, people will think you're from the country, girls. ”Mapp shut the cell phone. Starling felt she had to try to get more information out of Lecter. If she had the appointment already, Crawford might let her return to the asylum. She chose Dr. Chilton's number, but only got to his secretary. "Dr. Chilton is with the coroner and the assistant prosecutor, ”the woman explained. “He's already spoken to your supervisor and he has nothing to say to you. Speak to you soon."
Chapter 7 "Your friend Miggs is dead," said Crawford. "Have you told me everything, Starling?" Crawford's tired face was as sensitive to signals as an owl's curled ruff and just as free from mercy. "How?" She felt numb and had to deal with it. “Swallowed his tongue sometime before dawn. Lecter suggested it, Chilton believes. The night nurse heard Lecter speak softly to Miggs. Lecter knows a lot about Miggs. He talked to him a little, but the night nurse couldn't hear what Lecter was saying. Miggs cried for a while and then stopped. Have you told me everything, Starling? "" Yes, sir. It's all there between the report and my memo, almost verbatim. ”“ Chilton called to complain about you ... ”Gawford waited, apparently pleased when she didn't answer. “I indicated to him that I found your conduct satisfactory. Chilton is trying to clear a civil investigation. "" Will there be? "" Sure, if Miggs' family wants it. The civil rights department is likely to do eight thousand this year. You'll be happy to put Miggs on the list. ”Crawford looked at her carefully. “Are you all right?” “I don't know what kh to think of this.” “You don't have to be emotional in any particular way. Lecter did it for his own amusement. He knows that you can't really do anything to him for that, so why not? Chilton takes his books and toilet seat away from him for a while, that's all, and he doesn't get jelly. ”Crawford knotted his fingers across his stomach
and compared his thumbs. “Lecter asked you about me, didn't he?” “He asked me if you were very busy. I said yes. "" Is that all? You haven't done anything personal, know I wouldn't want to see it? "" No. He said you were a stoic, but I put that in. "" Yes, you did. Nothing else? "" No, I haven't left anything out. You don't think I trumpeted any gossip and that that's why he was talking to me. "" No. "" I don't know anything personal about you, and if I did I wouldn't talk about it. If you've had trouble believing that, now let's get that straight. ”“ I'm sure. Next point. ”“ You believed something, otherwise— ”“ Move on to the next point, Starling. ”“ Lecter's suggestion about Raspail's car is a dead end. Four months ago it was pressed into a cube for recycling at Number Nine, Ditch, Arkansa, and sold. Maybe if I go back and talk to Lecter, he'll count more. "" You took full advantage of the hint? "" Yes. "" Why do you suppose the car Raspail drove was his only one? "" It is the only one allowed, he was unmarried, I assumed, "Aha, wait!" Crawford's index finger pointed to some invisible rule in the air between them. “You accepted. You accepted, Starling. Look over here. ”Crawford wrote assume on a block of stone. Several of Starling's instructors had copied this from Crawford, but Starling made no indication that she had seen it before.
Crawford began to underline. “If I send you off on a job, Starling, and you just assume, you can make a donkey out of the two of us, out of you and me, me. .. ”Satisfied, he leaned back. “Raspail was collecting cars, did you know?” “No, are they still in the estate?” “I don't know. Do you think you might find out? ”“ Yes, I can. ”“ Where would you start? ”“ With his estate manager. ”“ A lawyer in Baltimore, a Chinese I believe I remember. ” "Everett Yow," Starling said. "It's in the Baltimore phone book." "Have you wasted any thought on the problem of a warrant for Raspail's car?" Starling didn't dare return it, at least not very much. "Since Raspail is deceased and does not come under suspicion, it is a legal search if we have permission from his estate manager to search the car, and the result is legal evidence in other legal matters," she said. "Exactly," replied Crawford. “Let me tell you something, I'll notify the Baltimore Field Office that you'll be there. Saturday, Starling, in your spare time. Then find out what the result is, if there is one. ”Crawford made a small, successful effort not to look after her as she left. With his fingers he picked up a ball of heavy mauve-colored stationery from his wastepaper basket. He smoothed it out on his desk. It was about his wife, and it stood up in engaging handwriting:
O quarrelsome schools that seek what fire
This world will burn if no one had the spirit
To strive for this knowledge
That it could be her fever?
I'm so sorry about Bella, Jack.
Chapter 8 Everett Yow drove a black Buick with a De Paul University sticker on the back window. Its weight tilted the Buick slightly to the left as Clarice Starling followed it out of Baltimore in the rain. It was almost dark; Starling's day as an investigator was almost over, and she had no more day to replace him. Taming her impatience, she knocked the windshield wipers on the steering wheel in time as the traffic drove down Route 301 at a snail's pace. Yow was smart, fat, and had difficulty breathing. Starling estimated his age at sixty. So far he had been approaching. The lost day wasn't his fault; Returning to Chicago from a weeklong business trip late afternoon, the Baltimore attorney had come straight from the airport to his office to meet Starling. Raspail's classic Packard had been stored long before he died, Yow explained. It was not registered and had never been driven. Yow had seen him once, covered him up, and put him in a warehouse to confirm his presence for the inventory of the hereditary assets that he made shortly after his client's murder. If Investigator Starling agreed not to "openly reveal" immediately anything she found that was detrimental to the interests of his late client, he would show her the vehicle, he said. A search warrant and the associated viewing would not be necessary. Starling enjoyed using an FBI fleet Plymouth for a day on a wireless phone, and she had a new ID provided by Crawford. It was just called FBI Investigator - and it expired in a week, she found. Their destination was Split City Mini-Storage, about six kilometers beyond the city limits. While Starling went there with the traffic
crawled, she used her phone to find out as much as possible about the depot facilities. When she saw the tall orange sign SPLIT CITY MINI-STORAGE - KEEP THE KEY, she had learned some facts. Split City had an Interstate Commerce Commission freight forwarding license in the name of Bernard Gary. A federal jury of federal prosecutors nearly sentenced Gary three years ago for interstate transport of stolen goods, and his license was due to be reviewed shortly. Yow turned under the sign and showed his keys to a pimply young man in uniform at the gate. The porter took down their license plates, unlocked the door and impatiently waved them in, as if he had more important things to do. Split City was a desolate place where the wind whistled. Like the Sunday flight of divorced couples from La Guardia to Juarez, it was a service enterprise for the thoughtless Braunian movement in the population; Much of his business was storing goods left over from a divorce. His units were piled with couches, breakfast ensembles, stained mattresses, toys, and the photographs of things that had become useless. There was a widespread belief among officials of the Baltimore County Sheriff that Split City was also hiding property and valuable compensation from bankruptcy judges. It resembled a military installation: a building a good twelve thousand square meters long, divided by fire walls into units the size of a spacious garage, and each unit fitted with a roller door. The fees were reasonable and some of the belongings had been here for years. The security arrangements were good. The place was surrounded by a double row of high security fences, and men with their dogs patrolled between the fences twenty-four hours a day. A six-inch-high layer of soggy leaves mixed with paper cups and other rubbish
piled against the bottom of the door of Raspail's storage unit, number 31. A heavy padlock locked each side of the door. The crack in the door on the left also had a seal. Everett Yow leaned stiffly over the seal. Starling held the umbrella and a flashlight in the early dark. "It doesn't seem to have been opened since I was here five years ago," he said. “You can see the imprint of my notary's seal in the plastic here. Little did I know then that the relatives would be so contentious and drag out the wills for so many years. ”Yow held the flashlight and umbrella while Starling took a picture of the lock and seal. “Mr. Raspail had a studio and office in the city that I gave up so the owner wouldn't have to pay rent, ”he said. “I had the facility brought here and stored with Raspail's car and other items that were already here. We brought in a piano, books and sheet music, and a bed, I think. ”Yow tried a key. “The locks may be frozen. At least this is extremely unyielding. “He found it difficult to bend over and breathe at the same time. When he tried to crouch, his knees creaked. Starling was glad to see that the padlocks were standard heavy American chrome locks. They looked terrifying, but she knew she could easily pry the brass cylinders out with a sheet metal screwdriver and split hammer - when she was little her father had shown her how burglars do it. The problem would be finding a hammer and screwdriver; she didn't even benefit from the constant junk in her pinto. She searched her purse and found the deicing spray she used on the door locks of her pinto. “Would you like to rest in your car for a moment, Mr. Yow? Why don't you warm up for a few minutes and I'll give it a try. Take the umbrella, it's drizzling now
only. ”Starling pulled the FBI Plymouth close to the door to use its headlights. She took the dipstick out of the car, let the oil drip into the keyholes of the padlocks, then sprayed the de-icer in to thin the oil. Mr. Yow smiled and nodded from his car. Starling was glad that Yow was an intelligent man; she could do her job without alienating him. It was completely dark now. She felt exposed in the glare of the Plymouth's headlights, and the belt creaked in her ear as the car idled. She had locked the vehicle with the engine running. Mr. Yow seemed harmless, but she saw no reason to take the risk of being crushed against the door. The padlock bounced like a frog in her hand and then lay open, heavy and greasy. The other lock was easier to open after soaking. The door, on the other hand, refused to come up. Starling pulled the handle until bright spots danced before her eyes. Yow came to help, but his clumsiness, combined with the small, inadequate door handle, did not bring any significant improvement. "Perhaps we could come back next week with my son or some handyman," suggested Mr. Yow. "I would very much like to go home soon." Starling was by no means sure she would ever want to return here; it would be less of a hassle for Crawford if he just picked up the phone and let the Baltimore field office handle it. “Mr. Yow, I'll hurry up. Do you have a jack in this car? ”With the jack under the door handle, Starling used her weight on the wrench that served as the jack. The door creaked terribly and rose an inch. It seemed to bend up in the middle. The door went up an inch and then another inch until she could slide the spare tire under to hold it up while she pushed Mr. Yows and her own jack to the sides of the door and put them close to the rails.
in which the door ran under the lower edge. Working alternately with the jacks on each side, she moved the door almost half a meter high, inch by inch, until it blocked and could not be pushed up further by Starling's whole weight on the jack handles. Mr. Yow came to peer under the door with her. He could only bend forward a few seconds at a time. "It smells like mice in there," he said. “I've been assured that rodent poison is being laid out here. I think it's stated in the contract. Rodents are almost unknown, it said. I hear them, do you? ”“ I hear them, ”Starling said. With her flashlight she could make out cardboard boxes and a large whitewall hoop under the edge of a sheet of cloth. The tire was flat. She pushed back with the Plymouth until the headlights fell partially under the door and took out one of the rubber floor mats. "Are you going in there, Officer Starling?" "I need to look around, Mr. Yow." He took out his handkerchief. “May I suggest that you tie the cuffs of your trousers tightly around your ankles? To keep mice out. ”“ Thank you, sir, that's a very good idea. Mr. Yow, should the door come down or something should happen, would you be so kind as to call that number? It's our Baltimore branch. They know that I'm here with you right now, and they'll worry if they don't hear from me within a short time, you understand? "" Yes, of course. Certainly. ”He handed her the key to the Packard.Starling placed the rubber mat on the wet floor in front of the door and lay down on it; her hands clasped a bag of evidence plastic bag over the lens of her camera, and her lapels were tightly wrapped with Yow's handkerchief and her own. Drizzle fell on her face and the smell of mold and mice stung her nostrils. Absurd
wisely, Starling Latin came to mind. It was the motto of the Roman doctor, written on the blackboard by her forensic medicine instructor on the first day of her training: Primum non nocere. Don't do any harm first. He didn't say that in a garage full of damn mice! And suddenly there was the voice of her father, who, with his hand on her brother's shoulder, said to her, "If you can't play without yelling, Clarice, go back inside." Starling buttoned the collar of her blouse closed, grimly hunched his shoulders and slipped under the door. It was under the stern of the Packard. It was parked close to the left side of the storage unit and almost touched the wall. Cardboard boxes were piled high on the right side of the room, filling the space next to the car. Starling curled up on her back until her head came free in the narrow gap between the cart and the boxes. Many spiders had spanned the narrow space with their webs. Most of them were harvestmen whose nets were littered with small shriveled, tightly wrapped cadavers. Well, the only thing to worry about is a brown recluse spider and it wouldn't build in full view, Starling told himself. The rest of them don't bite particularly. There was some space next to the rear fender. She twisted until she was out from under the car and her face right next to the wide whitewall tire. Dry rot had spread over him. You could read the words GOODYEAR DOUBLE EAGLE on it. She stood up in the narrow space, mindful of her head, her hand in front of her face to tear the spinning webs. Was that what it felt like when you were wearing a veil? From outside, Mr. Yow's voice. "Okay, Miss Starling?" "Okay," she said. There was a faint pounding sound at the sound of her voice, and something inside a piano climbed over a couple of high notes. The spotlight from outside illuminated hers
Legs up to the calf. "So you found the piano, Officer Starling," said Mr. Yow. “It wasn't me.” “Oh.” The car was big, tall, and long. A 1938 Packard Limousine, according to the Yows directory. It was covered with a bridge, the plush side down. She let the light of her flashlight play over it. "Did you cover the car with that bridge, Mr. Yow?" "I found it like this and never uncovered it," Mr. Yow called through the door. “I can't deal with a dusty carpet. Raspail did it that way. I just made sure the car was there. My packers put the piano up against the wall, covered it up, piled more boxes next to the car, and left. I paid them hours of wages. The boxes contain mostly sheet music and books. ”The bridge was thick and heavy, and as she pulled on it, the beam of her flashlight stirred up dust. She sneezed twice. Standing on tiptoe, she could fold the bridge to the center line of the tall old car. The curtains were drawn on the rear windows. The door handle was covered in dust. She had to lean forward over cardboard boxes to get to him. Just touching the end of the handle, she tried to twist it down. Completed. There was no key hole in the back door. She would have to clear a lot of boxes to get to the front door, and there was damned little room to put the boxes anywhere else. She could see a small gap between the curtain and the brace of the rear window. Starling leaned over the boxes to keep her eye close to the pane and shone her lamp through the crack. She could only see her reflection in the mirror until she cupped her hand over the beam of light. A splinter of light, broken by the dusty glass, moved across the seat. An open album lay on the seat. In the bad light were the colors
faint, but she could see the Valentine's pictures taped on the pages. Old cards made of lace, like fluff on the side. “Thank you, Dr. Lecter. ”As she spoke, her breath kicked up the fine dust on the window bar and misted the glass. She didn't want to wipe it off, so she had to wait for it to clear. The light continued to move across a crumpled lap blanket on the floor of the car and the dusty, flickering pair of patent leather men's evening shoes. There were black socks over the shoes and tuxedo pants with legs in them over the socks. Nobody has come through that door for five years - easy, easy, don't panic, baby. “Oh, Mr. Yow. Are you listening, Mr. Yow? "
"Yes, Officer Starling?"
“Mr. Yow, looks like there's someone in that car. "
“Oh my goodness. Maybe you'd better come out, miss
“Not yet, Mr. Yow. If you just wait there, please
last of all, thinking is important. The here and now is more important than all the crap you tell your pillow for the rest of your life. Soak it up and do this right. I don't want to destroy any evidence. I want some help though. Most of all, I don't want to sound a blind alarm. If I probe the Baltimore office and the cops out here for free, I'll be finished. I see what looks like legs. Mr. Yow wouldn't have brought me here if he'd known there was a body in the car. She managed to smile at herself. > A corpseOver the Sea to SkyeBank in City X< mit="" pulver="" für="" fingerabdrücke.="" starling="" hatte="" als="" studentin="" der="" höheren="" semester="" für="" gerichtsmedizin="" so="" viele="" stunden="" mit="" untersuchungen="" und="" fingerabdrücken="" verbracht,="" daß="" sie="" statt="" dessen="" zu="" d="" ieser="" vorlesung="" geschickt="" wurde,="" die="" zu="" einer="" vortragsreihe="" für="" polizisten="" auf="" besuch="" gehörte.="" sie="" fragte="" sich,="" ob="" es="" einen="" anderen="" grund="" dafür="" gab,="" daß="" man="" sie="" von="" der="" klasse="" getrennt="" hatte:="" vielleicht="" isolieren="" sie="" dich,="" be="" vor="" du="" rausfliegst.="" starling="" stützte="" sich="" mit="" den="" ellbogen="" auf="" die="" das="" spielfeld="" des="" würfeltischs="" umgrenzende="" linie="" und="" versuchte="" sich="" auf="">
Concentrating illegal money transactions in gambling. What she thought about, however, was how much the FBI hated seeing its agents on TV outside of official press conferences. Dr. Hannibal Lecter was a hit with the media, and the Baltimore police had cheerfully supplied Starling's name to reporters. She kept seeing herself on the Sunday evening news on the network. There was> Starling from the FBI< in="" baltimore="" und="" hämmerte="" mit="" dem="" wagenhebergriff="" gegen="" die="" ga="" ="" ragentür,="" während="" der="" kameramann="" versuchte,="" darunter="" durch="" zugleiten.="" und="" hier="" war="">Federal Agent Starling ”as she turned to the assistant, jack handle in hand. At the rival group, the WPIK station, which did not have its own film, had a lawsuit against> Starling by the FBI for bodily harm< und="" das="" bureau="" selbst="" angekün="" digt,="" da="" der="" kameramann="" staub-="" und="" rostteilchen="" in="" die="" augen="" bekam,="" als="" starling="" gegen="" die="" tür="" schlug.="" jonetta="" johnson="" vom="" wpik="" war="" landesweit="" in="" jedem="" femseher="" mit="" der="" enthüllung="" zu="" sehen,="" daß="" starling="" die="" überreste="" in="" der="" ga="" ="" rage="" durch="">had found an uncanny bond with a man known as ... monster! branded Melvin Pelvis< bezeichnet,="" eine="" dumme="" wortspielerei="" mit="" dem="" namen="" von="" mel="" vin="" purvis,="" hoovers="" g-man="" nummer="" eins="" in="" den="" dreißiger="" jahren.="" was="" ardelia="" mapp="" zu="" dem="" jungen="" mann="" sagte,="" ließ="" ihn="" erblei="" chen,="" und="" er="" ließ="" sein="" frühstück="" unangetastet="" auf="" dem="" tisch="" ste="" hen.="" nun="" fand="" starling="" sich="" in="" einem="" merkwürdigen="" zustand,="" in="" dem="" sie="" nicht="" überrascht="" werden="" konnte.="" einen="" tag="" und="" eine="" nacht="" lang="" hatte="" sie="" sich="" der="" klingenden="" stille="" eines="" tauchers="">
felt set. She intended to defend herself if she got the chance. The lecturer spun the roulette wheel as he spoke, but never dropped the ball. As she looked at him like this, Starling was convinced he had never dropped the bullet in his life. He was saying something, "Clarice Starling." Why did he say "Clarice Starling"? This is me. "Yes," she said. The lecturer nodded toward the door behind her. There we are. Her fate seemed to be coming to an end when she turned to the door. It was, however, Brigham, the gunnery instructor, who leaned into the room to point at them across the crowd. When she saw him, he waved her over. For a second she thought she was going to be kicked out, but that wouldn't be Brigham's job. “Saddle up, Starling. Where's your field equipment? ”He asked in the hallway. "In my room - C-wing." Then she had to run quickly to keep up with him. He carried the large fingerprint case from the props room — the good one, not the one for class — and a small canvas pouch. “You're going out with Jack Crawford today. Take night stuff with you. You might be back sooner, but you'd better take it with you. "" Where? "" Some duck hunters in West Virginia found a body in the Elk River around daybreak. In a typical Buffalo Bill situation. Deputies bring them out. It's darkest province, and Jack is reluctant to wait for these guys to show up with details. ”Brigham paused by the door to the C-wing. “He needs someone who can help him take prints of a body of water, among other things. You know the routine from the lab - you can do it, right? ”“ Yeah, let me check it out. ”Brigham held the fingerprint box open while Sterling took out the trays. The thin syringes for subcutaneous in
The jection and the vials were there, but the camera
"I need the one-on-one Polaroid, the CU-5, Mr. Brigham,
and film packs and batteries for it. "
“From the prop? Secured. "
He handed her the little canvas pouch, and when she got his hands on it
When she felt her weight, she realized why Brigham had come to pick her up
"You don't have a gun yet, do you?"
“You must be fully equipped. This is the holster that
You wore to the shooting range. The revolver belongs
me. It's the same Smith with K-Frame that she trains with
but it is easier to use. Try them today
evening out in your room without cartridges if you have the opportunity
have to. I'll be in one place with the camera in exactly ten minutes
a car behind the C-wing. Look, there is at the Blue Canoe
no loo. Go to the bathroom while you are still using the gels
be able to do so, is my advice. Hopphopp, Starling. "
She tried to ask him a question, but he was already up
Must be Buffalo Bill if Crawford goes himself. What the
Heck is that blue canoe? However, you have to be on your packing
ponder when you pack. Starling packed quickly and well.
"That's okay," Brigham interrupted as she got into the car.
“The plunger presses a little against your jacket if someone
looking for it, but it's okay for now. ”She bore the nudge
nosed revolver in a holster made of inferior quality leather
close to the ribs under her blazer, plus a fast charger,
who sat diagonally over her belt on the other side.
Brigham drove to the makeshift airport at exactly the speed limit
He cleared his throat. “There's something good about the range, Sterling,
that there is no politics out there. "
“You were right about that garage up there in Baltimore
to cherish. Worried about television? "
"We're here among ourselves, right?"
Brigham returned the salute from a member of the Marine
fanteriekorps, which directed the traffic.
“By taking you with him today, Jack shows confidence in
You, where no one can miss it, ”he said. “In case, ange
Assume that one in the Office of Work Morale and Professional Ethics too
constantly has your files in front of you and also has a whimper.
Do you understand what I am telling you? "
“Crawford is a really committed guy. He has there
Where it counts, made it clear that you are going to secure the crime scene
had to. He just sent you there - just in the sense of bar Ih
of all the visible symbols of authority, and he did
says. And it took time for the Baltimore police to reap
yawed. Also, Crawford needs your help today. He would
Have to wait an hour for Jimmy Price to get someone down here
Laboratory. So you have a pretty difficult job
in front of you, Starling. A corpse of water is also not sugar
lick. It is not a punishment for you, but if it is an outside one
if he had to see it that way, he could interpret it as such
You see, Crawford is a very subtle fellow
but he is not inclined to explain things. That's why I'm telling you
if you work with Crawford you should know
what is it like - do you know? "
“He's got a lot of other things on his mind besides Buffalo Bill.
His wife Bella is really sick. She is ... in the terminal stage. He
takes care of her at home. If it wasn't for Buffalo Bill
he would have taken leave for urgent family reasons. "
"I did not know that."
«It is not talked about. Don't tell him you do
sorry or something, that doesn't help him ... "
"I'm glad you told me."
Brigham perked up when they reached the airfield. "At the
At the end of the firearms course I'm giving some important lectures
Starling, try not to miss it. ”He took a short cut
between some hangars.
“Listen, what I teach is something you probably never will
times will have to do. I hope so anyway. You ever have
but considerable talent, Starling. When you have to shoot
sen, you can shoot. Do your exercises. "
"Don't put it in your purse under any circumstances."
“Pick it up in your room a couple of times at night. Be
keep it so that you can find it easily. "
There was a venerable one at the makeshift airfield at Quantico
twin-engined Beechcraf t with rotating radio beacons and open
door on the runway. A propeller was already turning and
ruffled the grass next to the runway.
"That can't be the Blue Canoe," said Star
"She is small and she is old."
"She's old," Brigham replied cheerfully. “The drug riot
dung confiscated her in Florida long ago when she was in
down the Ever Glades. But now it is mechanical
intact. Hopefully Gramm and Rudman won't find out
that we use them - we should actually take the bus. "
He stopped next to the plane and picked up Starling's luggage
Back seat. In a mess of hands, he got it off
Got to give her the stuff and shake hands with her.
And then, without meaning to, Brigham said, “All the best, Star
ling. ”The words were unfamiliar to his infantry jargon. He
Didn't know where they were from and his face felt hot
"Thank you ... thank you very much, Mr. Brigham."
Crawford was sitting on the knot in his shirt sleeves and sunglasses
pilot seat. He turned to Starling when he heard the Pi
lot slammed the door. She couldn't see his eyes behind the dark glasses and it seemed to her that she didn't know him. Crawford looked pale and indomitable, like a root being pushed up by a bulldozer. "Make yourself comfortable and read," was all he said. A thick file lay on the seat behind him. The cover said BUFFALO BILL. Starling hugged her tightly as the Blue Canoe roared and shuddered and began to roll.
Chapter 11 The edges of the runway became indistinct and receded. To the east the morning sun could be seen off Chesa Peake Bay as the little plane left the busy flight routes behind. Clarice Starling could see the school down there and the naval base around it in Quantico. Tiny Marine Corps figurines fought and ran along the track where raids were being re-enacted. This is what it looked like from above. Once when she was walking down the deserted Hogan's Alley in the dark after a night fire drill, walking down there to think, she had heard planes roar overhead and then, in the new silence, voices calling in the black sky overhead - airborne troops at one Night leaps calling to each other as they came down through the darkness. And she wondered what it felt like to wait for the green light by the aircraft door, what it felt like to dive into the roaring darkness. Maybe it was a feeling like this. She opened the file. He had done it five times, yes, and they knew about it. He had forcibly abducted, killed, and skinned a woman at least five times, and probably more, in the past ten months. (Starling's gaze darted down the autopsy records at the free histamine tests to confirm that he killed them before he did the rest.) He tossed each body into running water when he was done with his job. Each body was found in a different river, downstream from an interstate highway junction, each in a different state. Everyone knew that Buffalo Bill traveled a lot.That was all the law knew about him, absolutely everything, except that he had at least one pistol. The barrel had six fields and grooves and had a left-hand twist - possibly a Colt revolver
or a colt-like weapon. Grinding marks on rediscovered bullets indicated that he preferred to fire .38 Specials in the longer chambers of a 357. The rivers left no fingerprints, no evidence of hair or fibers. He was almost certainly white: white, since serial perpetrators usually murder within their own ethnic group and all victims were white; male, as serial perpetrators are practically unknown in our age. Two big city columnists had 'Terrible Little Poem' in Cummings'
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