| Capture |
| I do not own the characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, or any other characters from Silence of the Lambs or Hannibal. They belong to Mr. Thomas Harris. This story is merely written for enjoyment, no copyright infringement is intended and no profit of any kind is made. Fanfiction �Julie Zhou/Jstarz927 |
| Summary: Five years after Hannibal the novel, Clarice Starling has been captured by the FBI. Rating: PG ------------- Part 1 Capture It was springtime. The bright sun cast its beams on a newly-awakening land. The flowers were just beginning to open and the birds were in full-song. It was the time for new life. In Arlington the optimism of the season failed to reach Ardelia Mapp as a cold chill went through her body. Her breathing quickened and the magazine which she held in both her hands began to tremble. She�d heard the rumors, and the emerald ring on her finger had only confirmed her suspicions. She knew it had to be true but had denied it, as if her denial could make things all right. They had never had any solid proof and could do little more than spout off accusations. But here it was in screaming black and white, seventy-two-point Railroad Gothic, National Tattler�s headlines. �MRS. LECTER IN FBI CUSTODY!! HANNIBAL THE CANNIBAL STILL AT LARGE!!!� The article continued with details, but Mapp did not bother to read anymore. She had seen what she needed to know. Ever since Clarice�s disappearance had coincided with Lecter�s rampage on Muskrat Farm, Mapp knew there was something funny going on. But this. Her mind was overwhelmed and her hands grabbed car keys and a jacket without her conscious thought. She simply refused to believe that her former roommate had willingly remained in Lecter�s company for five years. Okay, she thought as she climbed into her car, suppose Clarice had stayed of her own free will. Where was her mind?! It was Hannibal Lecter they were talking about, whose body count had climbed well over twenty. Whatever the reason, Mapp had to see her. Clarice Starling was back from the dead, and no matter what she was like now, Clarice had once been her best friend. Mapp�s car was pushing 120 mph on the highway from Arlington to Quantico. There was the exit. Car horns screamed obscenities as Mapp swerved across five lanes of traffic. Once at FBI Headquarters, Mapp did not have to search for her friend. The paparazzi had scouted out the place and politely guided Mapp with their shouts and flashing cameras. Flashbulbs popped over and over again as Mapp pushed through the mob. �Is it true that former FBI agent Clarice Starling has been living with the infamous Hannibal Lecter for five years?� �What are your feelings on this case?� �Do you think Starling has been changed by�� Mapp ignored the questions and pushed into the relative solitude of the building. It was not peaceful for long. �You let me in, you bastards! I have a right!� The two guards who blocked the way to the interrogation room would not be moved. �Nobody questions the suspect without written consent from the director. For security reasons.� The guard added that last sentence as if lecturing a child. �The suspect is my friend and she�s done nothing wrong.� �Dan, she�s not going to bust Starling out. Let her in.� Special Agent Clint Pearsall came up behind Mapp and flashed his I.D. �Yes, sir.� The doors opened. If Mapp had known how much her life would change, she might never have gone past the entrance. She entered and the doors clanged shut behind her like a cell. Pearsall led her through the floodlit corridors until they reached the room they wanted. �Are you sure you want to see her? She�s not the same.� Pearsall said this as the interrogation room was about to come into view. Mapp whirled on Pearsall. �Why the hell didn�t you tell me you had her? I had to find out from the National Tattler.� �We tried to call you for seven hours.� �You could have left a message.� �Your phone line had been disconnected.� �That�s B.S.� Mapp stared through the one-way mirror at Clarice Starling. She sat calmly at the bare table in a splendid gown. Her hair was unkempt and evident of a wild struggle. The cashmere dress had been torn in several places and there were blood spots settled like flowers among the emeralds. Mapp thought for a moment that Lecter had drawn the blood and was getting riled up when Pearsall began to read the case report. �She was taken at a Broadway musical. Les Mis�rables. Anonymous phone call. Officers apprehended her on the way to her car. Lecter nowhere to be found. The suspect,� he paused, ��cried for the assistance of wanted fugitive Hannibal Lecter, who was believed to be in the vicinity. She struggled violently and was injured in her arrest. Numerous cuts and bruises. The suspect was taken to the interrogation room. Awaiting further orders.� Mapp felt beaten to the ground. The ring seemed to burn on her finger, and she wondered if Lecter had handed the emerald to Clarice to be set in the ring. �I�m going to talk to her.� �I can�t allow that.� Mapp ran ahead of Pearsall and tore open the door to the interrogation room. Clarice looked up as Mapp rushed in, followed by Pearsall and FBI director Tunberry. �You can�t do this, Agent Mapp.� The director�s voice would have sounded threatening at any other time. Mapp was beyond caring and could only see Clarice in front of her. Director Tunberry took Pearsall aside. �How the hell did she get in here, Clint?� �I�I let her in, sir. I saw no harm in it.� Tunberry looked as if he were going to explode for a moment. Then he suddenly quieted. �Well, I guess our little agent won�t be too much trouble. See that she gets out of here in due time.� Pearsall knew better than to question his boss. �Yes, sir.� Mapp heard the door click shut behind her. She carefully took a seat across from her friend. As she sat down, she slowly came to eye level with Clarice. Eyes that never left her face. Mapp shuddered. A hidden fire blazed behind the cold blue, fish-like irises that seemed to repel the light in the room. An icy, unfriendly flame. She looked just like him� �Hello, Ardelia.� �Hello, Clarice.� �You didn�t come all the way over here just to say that.� Mapp took off her ring and slid it to the middle of the table. She turned it so Clarice could see the AM-CS engraved inside. A beat of silence. �Why, girlfriend, why?� �Oh, Ardelia. You�d never understand.� Mapp diverted her gaze from Clarice�s intense eyes and fixed it on her mouth. �Do you still understand us? Do you still remember us?� �I remember you, Ardelia. You shouldn�t have come here. It would have saved you a lot of pain.� Mapp watched Clarice�s red lips slide smoothly up and down like poison as she talked. They shone as if with fresh blood. �Would it be better to be worrying every second of the day that your best friend is in danger?� �I think I made it quite clear in my letter that I was fine.� �You think he loves you? How long do you think Lecter will toy with you before he gets tired of it? He�s a vicious criminal. He�s not capable of love.� �Then tell me why I�m still alive.� �Lecter has killed 21 people. That we know of. Does he have any more bodies stuffed in his freezer?� Clarice laughed, not pleasantly. �I wouldn�t be surprised if he did.� Mapp got unsteadily out of her chair. Her limbs were like water as she faced the monster that used to be her friend. She cleared her throat and looked directly into Clarice�s eyes. �Agent Clarice Starling. Do you have knowledge of the current whereabouts of Hannibal Lecter?� �No.� �Then you will remain incarcerated until you choose to inform the FBI.� Mapp walked briskly to the door with Clarice�s voice ringing in her ear. �This didn�t have to happen. I�m sorry I had to hurt you, Ardelia.� After Mapp was out of sight and before she could get back behind the one-way mirror, Clarice picked up the ring that Mapp had left behind. She brought the ring to her nose and sniffed the cold metal. Then she smiled and removed a small object from behind her ear. She placed the object on the gold ring and pushed until the soft gold began to form a little depression. The tiny object was now perfectly embedded in the ring. Clarice slipped the ring onto her finger and sat back in the chair. They would question her, she knew. Far away, in a deep corner of her memory palace, she remembered how suspects were questioned. If an attorney did not work, they would switch to drugs. Clarice closed her eyes and walked down the halls of her memory palace. Hannibal had taught her how to build it. He had spoken softly in her mind, guiding her as, block by block, her worst memories were placed in far corners and bright, airy rooms were constructed at her pleasure. With a sigh, Clarice began to shut doors in the palace. It would take a long time to open them all again, but she could not risk the information in those rooms falling into the wrong hands. Meanwhile, she would wait. -------------------- Hannibal Lecter�s eyes narrowed as he observed the computer screen. He watched the picture slowly creep into existence. He could hardly understand the enthusiasm over this pitiful machine. Yet Lecter waited patiently while the blurry pictures began to focus. It was what he needed to pinpoint the signal. He touched the stack of newspapers next to him with one finger. Mostly tabloids. Clarice Starling had been moved from building to building to avoid the press, but the newspapers still carefully followed her whereabouts. Her current location was classified, but that was no problem. The location chip was working quite nicely. Lecter had planted the chip on Clarice a few weeks ago, knowing it might be needed. However, the signal had been far too weak until, four days ago, the signal had surged back, stronger than ever. Lecter knew that Clarice had probably placed it in a better electrical conductor. Silver or gold, he thought, from the strength of the signal. Clever girl. Even under the circumstances, Lecter was supremely confident that getting her out would be no problem. A bit awkward, perhaps, but not difficult. Clarice could manage until then. If there was one thing that Lecter admired in her, it was her self-reliance. She managed that better than even he could have taught her. Was the computer finished? No, another minute. Lecter supported his chin with two fingers as he waited. He had not seen Clarice�s capture. He was outside for intermission when her scream reached his ear. The police car was just pulling away when he arrived on the scene. A failure on his part that he would be sure never to repeat. �Hannibal! Hannibal!� she had cried. Lecter closed his eyes and allowed his first image of Clarice to appear in his mind. A nervous FBI trainee. It never failed to amaze him just how much she had changed since then. How deeply she trusted in him. Perhaps he felt that the first time she made love to him. �Well, Clarice,� he said to himself, �I can�t let you down then, can I?� Lecter opened his maroon eyes. The computer was finally finished. Lecter�s eyes looked at the map on the computer screen. He blinked once, like a camera clicking. Lecter allowed himself to drift away. In his memory palace, he ran up marble stairs past the twin busts of Nietzche at the landing. The map was clutched in his hand. He reached a table where the receiver of the signal was located. Lecter placed the map next to the receiver and quickly pinpointed Clarice�s location. A few miles away from Quantico. No trouble. In the real world, Lecter�s head came around as he heard a sound to his right. He quickly shut down the computer and unplugged the locator before quietly reconnecting the phone line He had no transportation. His Jaguar had been parked in the area Clarice was taken. The FBI had confiscated it. Lecter had meant for this to be a weekend excursion to Broadway, and his other automobile was in Buenos Aires. However� * * * Ardelia Mapp was tired and burned-out when she flopped down on her bed. She had spent the last few days in a mind-numbing miasma, dodging reporters. Her life was down in the pits and everyone seemed intent on knocking her down lower. Especially Clarice. She had watched Starling through the one-way mirror as questions were politely asked and finally shouted into her face. Clarice�s expression had never changed from one of enticing boredom. Whenever Mapp stood behind the mirror, Clarice�s head would turn towards her and her eyes seemed to see right through the mirror. Mapp had watched as the Director and Pearsall had become more and more agitated as each day passed. It was infuriating, for they knew that Clarice was hiding something. A hoard of information placed just out of their reach. Here in her room, Mapp closed her eyes and tried to forget it all. She was just drifting off to sleep when scratching claws descended into her lap. �Ahhh!� Mapp kicked frantically and the object flew to the floor. She looked and her heart dropped back down to her feet. �Amy, what the hell are you doing?!� The tiger-striped cat picked itself from the floor, shaking each paw in disgust. Mapp poked her finger through the rips in her shirt. �Great�� Amy hissed and rubbed against Mapp�s leg. Then she lay down and began to shred the carpet. �Amy, stop it.� Mapp bent to pick up the cat. Amy hung on, her claws stretching. She let go abruptly and began rubbing against the doorjamb. �Amy, what is it?� More than a little annoyed now. Then she didn�t need to ask again because she heard the loud popping noises and ran for the garage. She arrived just in time to see her car pulling out of the driveway. She ran after it, pulling her gun. �Stop! Stop right there!� The driver didn�t even slow. Mapp fired at the tires and missed. She watched in frustration as her car turned a corner and disappeared. * * * With a deep breath, Clint Pearsall slid into the seat across from Director Tunberry. A few minutes passed before Tunberry said a word. Pearsall shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He did not like Tunberry, but he was his boss. If Tunberry told Pearsall to sit his ass down, he had to do it. Tunberry cleared his throat and set his paper cup of coffee down on the table. �We have two days to make Starling talk. We have nothing on her except resisting arrest and the board won�t let us keep her any longer.� Pearsall ventured his opinion. �She knows where Lecter is, sir. I�m sure of that.� Tunberry stared at him levelly. �I am not quite the asshole you might think I am that I do not recognize that, Agent Pearsall.� He paused. �What was your relationship with former Special Agent Clarice Starling?� �She was an agent under my jurisdiction while she worked in the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms.� �Did you get to know her?� �Not very well, sir.� �It was you who suspended her, am I right?� �I helped, yes.� �What sort of person was she?� �She did her duty as an FBI agent.� Pause. Tunberry said, �Agent Pearsall, I must say that you remind me of a stubborn tube of toothpaste that I have to keep squeezing for information. What can you tell me about Starling that might be remotely useful in figuring out whether or not she will answer our questions?� Pearsall sighed. �Clarice Starling had a mind of her own. She didn�t seem to agree with the FBI�s ideals. All the work she did on Lecter was on her own. She cleaned out every file she could find in the library and created her own office in our proposed darkroom. She seemed to be doing a good job, and then�something happened and she was suspended.� �One week before her disappearance�Was there ever doubt about Starling�s loyalty to the Bureau?� �No, sir.� � Pearsall remembered the last desperate phone call. �You�re not a law officer while you�re on suspension�You�re Joe Blow.� �Yes, sir, I know.� � Pearsall sighed. �I�m afraid I�was not sure about Starling�s loyalty to the Bureau at that time.� �That, is what we need to prove.� Tunberry sounded surprisingly cheerful. �We need Starling to prove that to herself.� He slid something from his pocket and placed it in front of Pearsall. �You are the one that will make sure it happens.� Pearsall looked at the small package wrapped in brown paper. The black printing on the package was small, but he could not mistake the medical staff-and-snakes symbol. Or the complicated Latin printed in jet-black capitals. �Sodium amytal? Sir, we need a court order for this. Drugs cannot be used unless the suspect shows clear signs of mental disorder�� Pearsall withered under Tunberry�s stare. �I�ll have the answers for you tomorrow.� �Fantastic.� Tunberry picked up his coffee cup and folded up his newspaper. �Good day, Agent Pearsall.� Clint Pearsall was alone in the FBI break room. His hand picked up the needle wrapped in brown paper and his eyes looked at it as if it were a filthy bug. This was absolutely illegal and he felt as if he was being forced to cross over a dangerous line. It might have interested Pearsall to know that this was exactly how Clarice Starling felt, right before her journey to the dark side. * * * Inside Ardelia Mapp�s car, Hannibal Lecter removed bottle after bottle from his briefcase. They were the same bottles he had stolen from Maryland-Misercordia Hospital so many years ago. The drugs in most bottles were almost empty, but he still had enough of what he needed: stimulants, anesthetics, sleeping draughts, and deadly poisons. |
 |