Chapter 3 Chapter two

Dr. Frederick Chilton, fifty-eight, superintendent of the Baltimore State Criminal Institution for the Mental Illness.He had a long, wide table on which nothing hard or pointy was placed, which some of the staff called a "moat," while others did not understand what the word "moat" meant.When Clarice Starling came to Dr. Chilton's office, he was still sitting behind his desk. "We've had a number of detectives come to our place, but I can't remember anyone as charming," said Chilton, still not standing up. His outstretched hand gleamed, and Starling didn't need to think that he had lanolin in his hair.She let go before him.

"It's Miss Sterling, isn't it?" "It's Starling, doctor, with an alpha in the middle. Thank you for taking the time to see me." "So the FBI's trying to get girls into their heads, too, ha, ha." He smiled and took a drag on his cigarette; he often did that in the middle of the conversation. "There's progress in the Bureau, Dr. Chilton. It's true." "Are you going to be in Baltimore for a few days? You know, if you know the town, you can have as good a time here as you could in Washington or New York." She turned her face away from seeing his smile.She immediately realized that the other party had seen her resentment. "I'm sure it's a great city, but I've been ordered to see Dr. Lecter, and I'm due to report back this afternoon."

"I'll be in touch later, do you have somewhere in Washington that I can call and find you?" "Of course. I'm grateful that you think so. Agent Jack Crawford runs the program, and you can always find me through him." "Understood," Chilton said.His cheeks were mottled pink, and his hair was an eerie auburn that didn't quite match each other. "Give me your ID, please." He took her time to check her ID while letting her right there.Then he handed her his ID back to her and stood up. "It won't take long, come with me." "I'm sick and you'll brief me, Dr. Chilton," said Starling.

"We can talk while walking." He came around from behind the table and looked at his watch. "I have dinner in half an hour." Damn it!She should have had a good look at him just now.He may not be a complete innocence, and may know something useful.Although she is not good at fake smiles, a fake smile like this won't hurt her anything. "Dr. Chilton, my appointment with you is at this moment. It was originally arranged at your convenience. You can give me some time. Something may come up in the conversation with him, what will he do?" I might have to go through with you first."

"Well, I really doubt it. Well, I have to make a phone call before I go. You go to the outer office, and I'll be right over." "I want to leave my coat and umbrella here." "Put it out there," Chilton said. "Give it to Ellen in the office outside, and he'll put it away." Ai Lun was dressed like the pajamas issued to containment personnel.He was wiping the ashtray with the hem of his shirt. As he took Starling's coat, he ran his tongue around the back of the cheek in his mouth. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you. How often do you take a shit?" Ai Lun asked.

"What did you say?" "It takes a long time for the shit to come out—time?" "I'll find a place to hang things myself." "You don't have anything in the way—bend down and see if it changes color as it comes into contact with the air. Do you do that? Does it look like you've got a big brown tail?" He clutched at his coat. Ken let go. "Doctor Chilton told you to go to his office, now," said Starling. "No, I didn't call him," said Dr. Chilton. "Put the coat in the closet, Ellen, don't take it out again when we're gone. Put it in. I used to have a full-time handyman, and after the downsizing It's gone. The girl who let you in just typed for three hours a day, and then there's Ellen. Where are all the handy girls, Miss Starling?" He looked at her, his glasses The sheet is glowing. "Are you armed?"

"No, no weapons." "May I see your backpack and briefcase?" "You have seen my certificate." "It says you're a student. Please show me your stuff." Clarice Starling cringed as she heard the first heavy steel door snap shut behind her and the latch lock.Chilton was a little ahead of her, walking down the monotonous green corridor.The smell of Lysol soap permeated the air, and the sound of doors closing could be heard in the distance.Starling hated herself for letting Chilton reach for her backpack and briefcase.She strode heavily, trying to suppress her anger and focus.It's okay.She controlled herself and felt solid in her heart, like the gravel bottom in the torrent, lying there calmly.

"Lecter is an extremely nerve-wracking guy." Qierfan turned his head and said. "A handyman spends at least ten minutes a day destabilizing the publications he receives. We have tried to keep him from ordering or reduce the number of books, but he has a plea and the court rejected us. His personal e-mails used to be overwhelming. Thankfully, he has dwarfed and e-mailed less since other people have been in the news. For a while, every master's thesis in psychology Damn students seem to be trying to get something out of Lecter to put in their papers. Medical journals are still publishing his articles, but that's just for his byline, which is of some quaint value."

"He wrote a good article in Clinical Psychiatry about addiction to surgery, and I thought so." "What's wrong with you? Isn't that right? We tried to study Lecter, and we thought 'a chance to do a time-honored research has come'—it's so rare to get such a living person!" "A what?" "Just a psycho who knows he's a criminal and doesn't care, against society, obviously that's what he is. But he's inflexible, hard to crack, and so worldly that standardized tests can't help him. And, alas, he's terribly hateful. Us. He thinks I'm the one to bring him his comeuppance. Crawford's smart--isn't he--using you against Lecter."

"What do you mean by that, Doctor Chilton?" "I guess you call this using young women to 'pick him up.' I don't believe Lecter has seen a woman in years—perhaps caught a glimpse of someone cleaning up. We don't usually let Women are here, and keeping them is trouble." Fuck you, Chilton! "I graduated cum laude from the University of Virginia, doctor. It's not a school for attractive girls." "Then you should be able to remember these rules: Don't put your hand over the fence, don't touch the fence. Hand him nothing but soft paper. Pen, pencil. Sometimes he can use his own felt Stamp pens, the paper you hand him, must not have staples, paper clips or pins on it. Items can only be passed to him on the food slide and back out, no exceptions. If he passes the fence You can't take anything for you. Did you understand what I said?"

"Understood." They went through two more doors, and the natural light had been left behind and couldn't reach here.At this time, they had already passed the intensive care unit where the inmates could connect with each other, and reached the ward where there were no windows and prisoners were not allowed to connect with each other.The corridor lights were shrouded in thick iron gratings, like those in the engine room.Dr. Chilton paused under one of the lights.As soon as their footsteps stopped, Starling heard a voice somewhere behind the wall, screaming at the top of his lungs. "When Lecter gets out of the cell, he must be handcuffed, fettered, and his mouth must be covered." Chilton said, "I'll tell you why. In the first year after he was arrested, he was still a model of cooperation. And the security measures were relaxed a little bit—you know that was when the predecessor was in charge. On the afternoon of July 8, 1976, he complained of chest pains and was taken to the clinic. To make it easier for him to do an EKG, he Unshackled him. He did it to the nurse when she bent over him." Chilton handed a picture of Clarice Starling turned upside down. "The doctors managed to save one of her eyes, and Lecter was on the monitor the whole time. He broke her jaw to reach for her tongue. As he swallowed it , and his pulse never exceeded eighty-five." Starling didn't know which was worse, the photo, or Chilton's lustful, greedy gaze as he searched her face intently.She thought of a thirsty chicken, pecking at the tears on her face. "I'm keeping him here," Chilton said, pressing a button next to the thick double security glass door.A tall orderly let them into the inner room. Starling made a very difficult decision and stopped as soon as she entered the door. "Doctor Chilton, we do need the results of these tests. If Dr. Lecter thinks you are his enemy—if he sees you that way, as you say—then I'll go to him alone, maybe Better luck. What do you think?" Half of Chilton's face twitched. "It's not a problem for me at all. You can suggest that in my office. I can send an orderly to accompany you, which saves time." "I could have done that if you had briefed me there." "I don't think I'll see you again, Miss Starling. Barney, as soon as she's done talking with Lecter, you call and have her taken out." Chilton left without looking at her again. Now all that was left was a large orderly with an impassive face.Behind him is a silent clock and a barbed wire cabinet containing Mace gas, prison equipment, masks and tranquilizer guns.Attached to the wall bracket is a long pipe device with a U-shaped end, which is used to attach the mob buckle to the wall. The orderly looked at her and said, "Don't touch the fence, did Dr. Chilton tell you?" His voice was high and husky, reminding her of Aldo Ray the showman. "Yes, he did." "Okay. Go through the other cells, the last one on the right. Walk in the middle of the corridor and don't pay attention to anything. You can bring him his mail, and leave it at the top of the right." The orderly said privately Li seems to be having fun. "You put the mail on the tray and let it slide in. If the tray is in, you can pull it out with a rope, or he can deliver it. He can't reach you if you leave the tray out." The orderly handed it to her. Two magazines; the middle pages were scattered, three newspapers, and a few opened letters. The corridor was about thirty yards long, with cells on either side.Some cell walls are padded to prevent prisoners from hurting themselves; the cells have observation windows, which are long and narrow, like a shooting port, in the center of the door.The rest are standard cells with a wall of bars facing the corridor.Clarice Starling knew there were people in the cell, but she tried not to look at them.She had already walked more than half of the way, when suddenly a hissing voice came to her ears: "I can smell your body odor!" She kept her face, pretended not to hear, and continued to walk forward. The light in the last cell was on.She walked over, sideways to the left of the corridor and looked in.She knew that the sound of her heels had signaled her arrival.