Muskrat Farm has a witch-like beauty. It is the estate of the Verger family. It is located in northern Maryland, near the Susquehanna River. It was the Verger meat processing dynasty from Chicago to Washington in the 1930s. Bought when moving east.They were very affordable back then.After the Civil War, commercially and politically sensitive, the Vergers made their fortunes on meat contracts with the U.S. Army.
The "preserved beef scandal" of the period had little touch on the Verges.When I went to Chicago with a group of writers who specialize in exposing official corruption to investigate the dangerous conditions in a livestock slaughtering and processing plant, I found that several employees of the Verge family had been boiled into lard by accident, and became Durham, the pastry chef's favorite. Pure lard was sold.The Verges had little responsibility, spending less than a government contract.
The Vergers avoided these potential embarrassments and many others by pumping money into politicians—their only setback was the passage of the Meat Inspection Act in 1906.
Today, the Verges kill 86,000 cattle and about 36,000 pigs a day, with figures that vary slightly with the seasons.
Muskrat Farm, with its freshly mowed grass and brilliant lilacs in the wind, didn't smell like a place to raise cattle.The only animals there were ponies for the children who visited, and flocks of playful geese.The geese are grazing on the grass with their tails in their hands, their heads buried in the grass.no dogs.The house, barn, and grounds are all close to the heart of the 6 square mile national forest.According to a charter issued by the Ministry of the Interior, the farm can stay there for hundreds of millions of years.
Like many small kingdoms of a wealthy family, Muskrat Farm was difficult for first-time visitors to find.Clarice Starling took one extra exit along the highway, and only found the entry lane for the first time when she turned back along the highway.It was a gate, locked with chains and padlocks, connected on either side by a high fence that surrounded the forest.A fire escape in the gate disappears into the vaulted woods.There are no phone booths.She walked another two miles before she found the main entrance, which was set back 100 yards along a beautiful driveway.Her name was written on the clipboard of the uniformed doorman.
She walked another two miles on the manicured road to the farm.
Starling stopped the roaring Mustang and let a flock of geese pass in front of it.She saw a procession of children leaving a handsome barn on the backs of fat Shetland ponies.The barn is about 1/4 mile from the building.The main building in front of her was a mansion designed by the designer, standing imposingly among the shallow hills.The place looked rich and fertile, the land of cheerful dreams.Starling couldn't help feeling uncomfortable.
The Vergers had more taste, keeping the building as it was, and only adding a modern wing to the east wing, like a superfluous limb from a bizarre scientific experiment.The flank Starling is not yet visible.
Starling parked in front of the central porch.She could even hear her own breathing when the sound of the engine died down.In the rearview mirror she saw someone approaching on a horse.When Starling got out of the car, the sound of horses' hooves on the road was already in front of the car.
A broad-shouldered man with short blond hair flew off his horse and handed the book to a servant without even looking at him. "Slip it back," said the rider in a deep, hoarse voice, "I'm Margot Verger." When the man came to see it, it turned out to be a woman.The person who came reached out to her, the arm stretched straight from the shoulder.Margot Verger is clearly practicing bodybuilding.Beneath her muscular neck, her huge shoulders and arms filled the mesh of her tennis shirt.There was a dry light in her eyes, as if she was not moistened by tears, and she was not very comfortable.She wore tweed breeches and no spurs on her riding boots.
"What's your car?" she said. "An old Mustang?"
"1988 style."
"Five liters? The body seems to lie low on the wheels."
"Yes, a Roush Mustang."
"Like it?"
"like very much."
"How much can you run?"
"I don't know, it's fast enough, let me see."
"Are you afraid of it?"
"Respect it, I would say I respect it when I use it," Starling said.
"Do you understand it? Or just buy it and use it."
"I knew it well, so I bought it when I saw it at the internal auction. I learned a little more about it later."
"Do you think you can pass my Porsche?"
"That depends on what kind of Porsche it is, Miss Verger. I need to speak to your brother."
"They'll have him cleaned up in about five minutes, and we can talk over there." Margot Verger's thick-legged tweed breeches rustled as she came upstairs, her cornrow-like blond hair Her forehead had begun to thin out, and Starling suspected she might be on steroids.
To Starling, who spent most of her teenage years in a Lutheran orphanage, the house was like a museum.Overhead is a huge space and painted beams and columns, and portraits of the dead are hung on the walls with extraordinary dignity.Chinese cloisonne porcelain is placed on the landing of the stairs, and a long Moroccan velvet carpet is spread in the hall.
But when it came to the newly built side of Verger Building, the architectural style suddenly changed.The modern and practical structure can be vaguely seen through the double doors of frosted glass, which is not in harmony with the vaulted hall just now.
Margot Verger paused outside the door for a moment, casting one of her shining, angry eyes on Starling.
"Some people have a hard time talking to Mason," she said. "If you're feeling offended, or overwhelmed, and forget to ask some questions, I can fill you in."
There's one emotion we all recognize but don't have a name for: the pleasant premonition of being condescending.It was the emotion Starling saw on Margo's face.Starling only replied, "Thank you."
To Starling's surprise, the first room in the wing was a well-appointed game room.Two African-American kids play among giant stuffed animals.One sits on big wheels and the other pushes a truck on the ground.There were various tricycles and toy carts parked in the corners, and in the middle of the room was a huge jungle-style children's play set with thick mats on the floor.
In one corner of the game room was a tall man sitting in a lovers seat reading Vogue.There are many cameras mounted on the walls, some high and some at eye level.A camera in the corner swivels and adjusts its focus, focusing on Starling and Margot Verger.
Starling was past the horror of brown children, but she was still acutely aware of them.As she and Margo passed through the house, it was pleasant to watch the children playing with their toys with great joy.
"Mason likes to watch children," said Margot Verger, "but all but the youngest are afraid to see him, so he does as he does now. They go riding after they've played here. All A daycare kid at Baltimore Children's Welfare."
Mason Verger's room can only be reached through his bathroom.The entire width of the wing, a hot spring's worth, looked like a medical facility, all steel and chrome and industrial carpet.There were showers with huge bays, stainless-steel tubs with lifting equipment above them, twisted orange hose and steam baths, and huge glass cabinets filled with various ointments from the pharmaceutical factory of Santa Maria Novella in Florence.The bathroom had just been used, and the air still smelled of mist, balm, and wintergreen.
Starling saw a light under the door leading to Mason Verger's room.The light went out as soon as his sister touched the doorknob.
Mason.The sitting area in the corner of Verger's room is lit by modest lights, and above the couch hangs a beautiful reproduction of "Long Days"—God measuring life with his calipers.The painting was framed in black gauze in memory of the newly deceased old Verger.The rest of the house was dark.
From the darkness came the rhythmic sound of the machine running, with a sigh-like sound every time it ran.
"Good afternoon, Agent Starling." A mechanically amplified voice came, lacking the fricative.
"Good afternoon, Monsieur Verger," Starling said into the darkness, the warmth of the lamp above her.The afternoon in the human world is in other places, so I can't enter here.
"sit down."
It must be done, now is the right time, it must be done now.
"Mr. Verger, the conversation we are going to have is of the nature of a testimony. I need a recording. Don't you object?"
"No objection, no objection." The voice came out between the sighs of the machine, and the fricative fricative fricative fricative was inaudible. "Margo, you can leave now."
Margot Verger walked away without looking at Starling, her breeches rustling.
"Monsieur Verger, I've got to pin a microphone to your—clothes or pillow, if it doesn't bother you. Or, if you prefer, I'll have the nurse come and pin it for you."
"It doesn't matter what you do," he said, without the b and m sounds.He waited for the next mechanical breath to bring him air. "You can pin me yourself, Agent Starling, I'm here."
Starling couldn't find the light switch for a while, thinking that she would be able to see more or less after leaving the light for a while, so she stretched out a hand and walked towards the smell of wintergreen and balm in the dark.
She was surprisingly close to him when he turned on the light.
Starling's face didn't change, maybe the hand holding the microphone trembled.
Her first thought had nothing to do with what was going on in her heart and the feeling in her stomach: she had observed that Mason's odd speech turned out to be due to the complete absence of lips.Her second impression was that he was not blind.The blue eye looked at her through a sort of monocle.Because the eyes have no eyelids, the glasses are connected to tubes to keep the eyes moist.The rest of the face was the skin that doctors had put on his bones as best they could years ago, tight.
With no nose, no lips, no soft tissue on his face, Mason Verger was full of teeth, like a creature of the deep sea.We're all used to the mask, and the shock of seeing him comes slowly.The shock begins with the realization that this is a human face with a heart behind it.At this time, the movement of the face, the opening and closing of the gums, and the movement of opening the eyes to see your normal face all make you vibrate.
Mason Verger's hair was beautiful, and strangely enough, it was the last thing to look at.It was black with gray and white in it, forming a long ponytail that, if let dangle from the pillow, could touch the floor.Today his braided hair is coiled in a wide circle over a tortoiseshell respirator on his chest.The braids glowed like scales on the skim milk-colored ruins.
Mason's hospital bed was lifted up, and he was lying under the quilt. His long-term paralyzed body became smaller and smaller, and finally disappeared.
In front of his face was a controller, like a pan flute or a clear plastic harmonica.He looped his tongue like a tube around the end of a tube and took a puff of air from his respirator, and his bed buzzed, turning him slightly towards Starling and lifting him up. s head.
"I thank God for what has happened," Verger said. "It was the salvation of my soul. Have you accepted Jesus, Miss Starling? Do you have faith?"
"I was raised in a very religious atmosphere, Mr. Verger. I have everything that religion gives you." Starling said, "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to pin this thing to your pillowcase Come on. It won't get in your way there, will it?" Her voice was too lively and nurse-like for her role.
Her hand was by his head, and seeing these two human surfaces organized together was not without affecting her work. The pulsation of blood in the nourishing vessels planted by Verge on the facial bones affected her even more.The regular relaxation of blood vessels is like a worm devouring food.
Thankfully, she finally returned to her desk, tape recorder and microphone with the wires in hand.
"FBI Special Agent Clarice Starling, No. 5143690, Mason R. Verger, Social Security No. 475989823, recorded the following testimony under oath at the residence of Mason R. Verger on the date indicated here. Mr. is well aware that he has obtained immunity from the Federal Attorney and local authorities of the 36th District. Attached is a sworn and authenticated memorandum jointly signed by both parties.
"Now, Monsieur Verger—"
"I wanted to talk to you about camping," he interjected with his next breath, "which was essentially a wonderful childhood experience I recall reliving."
"We can talk about that later, M. Verger, I think we should—"
"We can talk now, Miss Starling. You see, it's important. That's how I met Jesus. It's the most important thing I'm going to talk to you about." He stopped and waited for the machine to breathe. "That Christmas camp was paid for by my dad, all the money, 125 people camping on Lake Michigan. Some people are unlucky enough to do anything for a candy bar. I probably took it Cheap, maybe I roughed them up when they wouldn't eat the chocolate and did what I wanted - I didn't hide anything, because it's all right now."
"Mr. Verger, let's take a look at the materials—" He didn't listen to her, just waiting for the machine to blow him up.
"I've got my immunity, Miss Starling, no problem now. I got my immunity from the federal attorney, I got my immunity from the district attorney at Owings Mill, Hallelujah! I'm free, Starling There is no problem now miss. I have no problem with him, nothing. He is the resurrected Jesus; Know, Lord. I served him in Africa, hallelujah, I served him in Chicago; bless his name, I serve him now. He'll get me out of my sickbed; he'll strike my enemies , drive them away from me. I want to hear my enemy's woman cry, and now it's all right." Choking on spittle, he stopped talking, the veins on his forehead pulsating and swollen black.
Starling stood up to look for the nurse, but before she reached the door, she was stopped by him.
"I'm fine, it's fine now."
Perhaps direct questions would be better than inducements. "Mr. Verger, did you see Dr. Lecter before the court referred you to him? Did you see him in society?"
"I haven't seen it."
"Both of you are trustees of the Baltimore Philharmonic."
"No, I only serve as a director because I donate money, and I only send a lawyer when I vote."
"You did not testify at Dr. Lecter's trial." She learned to ask the question after gasping him.
"They said they had enough evidence to convict him six times and nine times, but he pleaded insanity and refuted all of their charges."
"The court found him insane and Dr. Lecter made no appeal."
"Do you think it's important to appeal or not?"
After this questioning, she became aware of the man's heart.He is enlightened and deep, which is different from the words he used for her.
Dahai Shan was already used to the light at this moment, and he swam out from the cracks in the rocks of the fish tank, and began to circle tirelessly, an undulating and rotating brown ribbon, sprinkled with some light yellow spots irregularly.
Starling kept feeling the moray eels swimming out of the corners of her eyes.
"That's a moray eel from Ena Village, Kitago, Miyazaki Prefecture," Mason said. "There was a bigger one caught in Tokyo. This one is the second largest.
"It's commonly called a murderous moray eel. Do you want to know why it's named?"
"No," Starling said, flipping through a page of the notebook. "So, you asked Dr. Lecter to come to your home during the court-ordered treatment."
"I have nothing to be ashamed of, I'm telling you all. It's all over now. I was charged with fabricated harassment terms and got leniency. The court ordered me to do 500 hours of community service, in dog I went to work on the column and went to Dr. Lecter for psychotherapy. I thought that if I could get the Dr. into the water, he would be more relaxed when he treated me, even if I was sometimes absent, or a little delirious during the appointment, he would not Interfering with my bail."
"You were living at Owings Mill then."
"Yes. I told Dr. Lecter everything, about Africa and Edie and all. I said I was going to show him a thing."
"Did you show him...?"
"My equipment, my toy. It's in the corner there. It's a portable guillotine. This is what I used for Idi Amin. It can be thrown in the back of a jeep and taken anywhere, in the remotest places. It can be erected in 15 minutes. It can be winched in about 10 minutes. Women or children may take longer. I have no embarrassment about it anymore. Because I am clean."
"Dr. Lecter is at your house."
"Yes, I went and opened the door. I was all alone, you know that thing. I tried to see his reaction, but he didn't respond. I wanted to see if he was afraid of me, but he didn't seem to be. He still was afraid Me—looks funny now. I asked him upstairs and showed him my guillotine. I've adopted dogs from shelters, and two are still friends. I keep dogs in cages, only Give clean water to drink and no food to eat. I am anxious to know how the end result will be.
"I showed him my noose structure, you know, sexual suffocation and masturbation, it's a bit like hanging yourself, but you won't die, it just feels wonderful at that time, understand?"
"clear."
"Ah, but he didn't seem to understand. He asked me how it worked, and I said, what a strange psychiatrist you are, never seen that, and he said—that smile I'll never forget—'You Show me'. Now you've got me! I thought."
"You just showed him?"
"I don't feel ashamed. Mistakes make people grow. I'm clean."
"Go on, M. Verger."
"So I pulled the noose down in front of my big looking glass, took hold of the end of the rope with one hand to loosen it, and worked with the other hand, while watching his reaction. But I observed nothing, And I can usually see through people. He was sitting in a chair in the corner with his legs crossed and his hands clasped around his knees. Then he stood up and put his hands in his trouser pockets, gracefully, like James Mason Reached for the lighter. He said, 'How about you get some?' I thought, wow!—he's only going to give me the first one now, and he'll have to keep giving it to me to keep his license. The castle of prescribing has taken ! Well, you will know from reading the report, that is much more powerful than amyl nitrate."
"It's made of angel powder, a few methamphetamines, and some hallucinogens," Starling said.
"I mean great! He walked up to the mirror I was looking at and kicked the bottom half of the mirror and grabbed a piece of it. I wanted to run and he came up and handed me the glass, looked into my eyes and suggested to me that I probably want to peel my face off. He let the dogs out and I fed my face to the dogs. They said it took me a long time to get my face off. The face was cut, but I don't remember. Dr. Lecter broke my neck with that noose. They fed the dogs at the animal shelter and got my nose back, but the nose implant didn't work."
Starling rearranged the files, taking longer than necessary.
"Mr. Verger, your family is offering a reward for Dr. Lecter who escaped from custody in Memphis?"
"Yes, 1 million is offered. We offer rewards all over the world."
"You also propose that a reward be paid not only for his general arrest or conviction, but for any form of relevant information. It is expected that you will tell us what information you have obtained, is that so?"
"That's not necessarily true. Good things are never easy to share."
"How do you know if it's good or not? What clues did you find yourself?"
"Only clues that are ultimately useless. How are we going to find out if you don't tell us anything? We got nothing from Crete; we got nothing from Uruguay. I want you to understand that this It is not a question of revenge, Miss Starling. I have forgiven Dr. Lecter as our Savior forgave the Roman soldiers."
"Monsieur Verger, you informed my office that you had something."
"In the drawer of that table over there, go find it."
Starling pulled white cotton gloves from her purse and put them on.In the drawer was a large manila envelope, stiff and heavy.She took it out and it was an x-ray.She looked up at the overhead light, and there was an x-ray of a left hand that appeared to be injured.She counted her fingers, four, plus her thumb.
"Look at the metacarpal bones, do you understand what I mean?"
"clear."
"Count the knuckles."
There are five knuckles. "With the thumb, this man has six fingers on his left hand, like Dr. Lecter."
"Like Dr. Lecter."
The medical record number and source portion of this x-ray was cut off.
"Where did you get that, Monsieur Verger?"
"Rio. I'll have to pay to find more, a lot of money. Can you tell me if it's Dr. Lecter's hand? I'll have to pay to find out if it's his hand."
"I'll try, Monsieur Verger, we'll do our best. Have you still kept the envelope in which you sent the x-rays?"
"Margot put it in a plastic bag, and she'll give it to you. If you don't mind, Miss Starling, I'm a little tired and need to be served."
"I'll call you from my office."
Not long after Starling had left the house, Mason Verger blew on the end of the tube and said, "Cordle?" Read the documents of the Children's Welfare Institute.
"It's Franklin, tell Franklin to come in." Mason said, turning off the light.
The little boy stood alone under the bright overhead light in the sitting area, squinting into the darkness where someone was panting.
A loud voice came, "Are you Franklin?"
"It's Franklin," said the child.
"Where do you live, Franklin?"
"Lives with Mom, Shirley, and Slim."
"Has the Slender Man been living with you?"
"Sometimes he's there and sometimes he's not."
"You mean he is sometimes there and sometimes not?"
"yes."
"Your mother wasn't your real mother, was she, Franklin?"
"It's my adoptive mother."
"Isn't she your first adoptive mother?"
"no."
"Do you like living at home, Franklin?" His face lit up. "We have Kitty the cat. Mommy bakes the cakes in the oven."
"How long have you been there, at Mama's?"
"I have no idea."
"Did you spend your birthday there?"
"Once upon a time. Shirley made parfaits."
"Do you like to eat?"
"I like strawberries."
"Do you like Mom and Shirley?"
"Like, ah, ah, and Kitty the Kitty."
"Do you like living there? Don't you get scared when you sleep?"
"Well, well, Shirley and I share a room, and Shirley is the big sister."
"Franklin, you can't live there with Mommy, Shirley, and the cat anymore, you have to go."
"Who said this?"
"Government said. Mom is out of work and not eligible to be a foster mother. The police found a marijuana cigarette in your house. You will never see Mom again after this week, never see Shirley and Pussy again gone."
"No," said Franklin.
"Maybe they don't want you, Franklin. Is there anything wrong with you? Any ulcers, or something gross? Do you think you're too dark for them to love you?"
Franklin picked up his shirt to look at his little brown belly, shook his head, and cried.
"Do you know what will happen to the cat? What's the cat's name?"
"Kitty Kitty, that's her name."
"Do you know what happens to Kitty Kitty? The police are going to take Kitty Kitty to the government barn and a doctor is coming to give it a shot. Did you get a shot at the nursery? Did the nurse give you a shot? With Shiny needles? They give Kitty a shot. The cat gets scared when it sees a needle. They stick her in and Kitty hurts and dies."
Franklin grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it to his face, putting his thumb in his mouth, which he hadn't done in a year since his mother told him not to.
"Come here," said the voice in the dark, "I'll tell you how you can keep Kitty from getting a shot. Would you like to let Kitty get a shot, Franklin? No? Then come here, Franklin. "
With tears streaming down his face, Franklin sucked his thumb and walked slowly into the darkness.When he came within 6 feet of the bed, Mason blew on his harmonica and the lights came on.
Out of natural courage, or a desire to help Kiddie, or the horror of knowing there was no way out, Franklin didn't flinch, didn't run away, he just stood there, looking into Mason's face.
This disappointing result probably made Mason frown -- if he had one.
"If you give Kiddie a little rat poison yourself, it won't get shot," Mason said.He couldn't pronounce the labial m and plosive p, but Franklin still understood.
Franklin took his thumb out of his mouth.
"You're an old wretch, shameless," Franklin said. "You're ugly." He turned and walked out of the room, through the room full of pipes, back into the game room.
Mason watched him on the monitor.
The nurse, pretending to be reading Vogue, was watching the boy, watching him closely.
Franklin never wanted to play with toys again.He walked over to the giraffe and sat at its feet.The only thing he could do was stop sucking his finger.
Cordell watched him carefully, waiting for his tears.As soon as he saw the child's shoulder twitch, he walked over, gently wiped away the tears with sterile gauze, and put the tear gauze into Mason's.The wine was frozen in the game room refrigerator, along with the orange juice and Coke.
Notes:
Notes: