Chapter 18 Chapter Seventeen

Clarice Starling had a sleepless night and woke up aching, in her bathrobe and slippers with critters on the toe, and a towel over her shoulder, standing and waiting to get into the bathroom where she and Mapp lived next door. shared by students. "The news from Memphis on the radio kept her breathless. "Oh God!" she said, "Oh, boy!" There's enough in there!The bathroom was occupied.Just put on your pants and come out, this is not training!She climbed up into the shower, leaving a neighbor next door dumbfounded.Come on a little bit, Gracie, and pass me that soap, if you please. "

She listened to the phone with her ears pricked up, packed her overnight luggage, and put her forensic equipment box at the door. She made sure that the switchboard knew she was in her room, and she gave up breakfast and stayed by the phone.It was still ten minutes before the class time, and there was still no news, so she hurried to the Behavioral Science Department with the equipment. "Mr. Crawford left for Memphis forty-five minutes ago," the secretary said sweetly to her. "Burroughs went too. Stafford from the laboratory left from National Airport." "I left a report for him here last night. Did he leave me a note? I'm Clarice Starling."

"Yes, I know who you are. I have three copies of your number here, and I think he has a few more on his desk. No, he left nothing for you, Starling. The woman looked at Starling's luggage "Do you want me to tell him something when he calls? " "Did he leave his Memphis number on the registration card?" No, but he will use this number to call.Don't you have class today, Starling?Are you still in school? " "There are classes. Yes, I'm still in school." Starling was late for class, and she was even more disturbed by the young woman Gracie Pittman she had forced out of the shower.Gracie Pittman sat directly behind Starling.The walk to the seat seemed long, and Pittman's tongue made two full circles behind her shaggy cheeks.In the end, Starling managed to disappear from the crowd.

She sat without breakfast and listened to the two-hour search and search of the promise of integrity except for exclusion rules, and then she was able to go to the market-style vending machine and pour a glass of Coke. At noon she checked the mailbox again to see if there was a note left.nothing.It occurred to her then, and on other occasions in her life, that utter frustration tasted very much like that patent medicine called fleas that she had to take as a child. Some days, you wake up and find yourself changed.Today was the day for Starling, she knew it.What she had seen yesterday at Potter's Undertaker had caused a small structural change in her mind.

Starling had studied psychology and criminology at a good school.In her life, she had seen some horrible things, things in the world were destroyed at the touch of a finger.But she didn't really figure it out, and now she does figure it out: Sometimes, the human species can grow such a brain behind a human face-the joy is in Porter City, West Virginia. On a dead body lying on a china table in a room with rosebush wallpaper!For the first time, Starling understood that a brain was worse than anything else in scope that she could see at the autopsy.Knowing this, she will be forever oppressed; she knows that unless calluses grow, her life will be slowly drained away.

The daily routine of the school didn't ease her pain, either.All day long she had the feeling that something had happened, just above the horizon.She seemed to hear a large, faint voice saying that something was wrong; the voice seemed to come from a stadium in the distance.The slightest sign of movement unsettled her: groups of people walking down the corridor, cloud shadows passing overhead, the sound of an airplane. After class, Starling hit the track and ran lap after lap before swimming.She swam until she remembered the floating corpses, and then she refused to touch the water again.

She was in the recreation room with Map and about a dozen other students watching the seven o'clock news.The abduction of Senator Martin's daughter was not a headline, but came on the heels of the Geneva arms talks. There's footage from Memphis, beginning with the Stone Hench Gardens sign, shot through the revolving lights of a patrol car.The media was waging a publicity campaign over the incident, but with little new to report, journalists were interviewing each other in the Stonehenge car park.The authorities in Memphis and Shelby County, still unaccustomed to the rows of microphones, turned away, people jostled, cameras flickered, high-pitched ghostly screams, and the audio system recorded all Noise; in the midst of the chaos, local authorities cite lines of news they don't know.Cameramen hunched over and scurried back and forth, retreating to the small television cameras whenever investigators entered or left Kathleen Baker-Martin's apartment.

Crawford's face flashed in the apartment window, and there was a brief, ironic cheer in the Academy's recreation room.Starling smiled slightly. She didn't know if Buffalo Bill was watching TV, what he thought of Crawford's face, or if he even knew who Crawford was. Others seemed to think Bill might be watching too. Joining Peter Jennings on live television was Senator Martin.She stood alone in her child's bedroom, behind the Southwestern University triangular flag and posters in support of Val-E Coyote and the Equal Rights Amendment on the wall. She was a tall woman with a resolute, flat face.

"Now I'm going to talk to the guy who's holding my daughter," she said.She moved closer to the camera, catching the cameraman off guard and hastily refocusing.She spoke to a terrorist; she would never have spoken to a terrorist if it hadn't been for that. "You have the power to set my daughter free from harm. Her name is Catherine. She is gentle and understanding. Please set my daughter free, please set her free and don't hurt her. This situation is yours In control, you have power, you are in charge. I know you feel love and compassion. You have the power to protect her from anything that might harm her. Now you have a wonderful Chance to show the world that you are capable of great kindness, to show the world that you are magnanimous, and that you can be more generous than the world treats you. Her name is Catherine."

Senator Martin looked away from the camera as the scene quickly cut to a home video showing a toddler learning to walk by the coat of a large collie. The Senator went on to say, "You're seeing Catherine as a child. Let Catherine go. Wherever she is in this country, let her go, don't hurt her, you'll have my help to win mine friendship." Then came a group of stills - Catherine Martin, eight years old, holding the tiller of a sailing boat.The boat was out of the water on the keel while her dad was painting the hull.There are also two recent photos of the young girl, one full body and one close-up of the face.

Back to the Senator's close-up: "I face the nation assuring you that I will help you whenever you need it. I am well placed to help you. I am a U.S. Senator. I serve on the Armed Forces, Navy and Air Force Committee. I am deeply involved in the Strategic Defense Initiative this space weapons system that people call 'Star Wars'. If you have an enemy, I will strike. If anyone bothers you, I can Tell them to stop. You can call me any time of the day or night. My daughter's name is Catherine. Please show us your strength." Senator Martin finally said, "Release Catherine and do no harm. she." "My boy, it's air!" said Starling.She trembled like a beagle. "God, what an air!" "What? Star Wars? Mapp says that if aliens are trying to control Buffalo Bill's mind from another planet, Senator Martin is capable of protecting him too—is that the tune?" Starling nodded. Many had Delusional schizophrenics have that particular hallucination - alien control. If that's how Bill is controlled, maybe this will get him out of the hole. But it was a damn good shot, She stood there firing again, didn't she? At least bought Catherine a few more days. They might have time to work on Bill, or maybe they didn't; The time to do it may be getting shorter. They can try this trick, or they can try other ways." "If he's detaining one of my daughters, there's nothing I'm not willing to try. Why does she keep saying 'Catherine'? Why does she keep saying that name?" "She's trying to get Buffalo Bill to think of Catherine as Alone. They're thinking that Buffalo Bill has to see her as a person, see her as a thing before tearing her to shreds. Serial killers have talked about this in prison interviews; some The murderers talked about it. They said it was like playing with a doll." "Do you think Crawford was behind Senator Martin's statement?" "Maybe, or maybe it's Dr. Bloom—isn't that him?" Starling said.A video of an interview with Dr. Allen Bloom of the University of Chicago on the subject of serial homicide appeared on the screen. Dr. Bloom is reluctant to compare Buffalo Bill to Francis Dollar Ryder, Garrett Hobbs or anyone else in his experience.He would not use the name "Buffalo Bill."He didn't actually say much at all, but everybody knew he was an expert, probably the only one, on the subject, and the network wanted to see his face. They ended the camera coverage with his last words: "He faces a terrible end every day, and we don't have any more terrible end to threaten him with. All we can do is tell him to come to us. We can guarantee that he will be treated with kindness and leniency, and that he will absolutely keep his word." "Can't we all be more magnanimous?" said Mapp, "and I'll be damned if I'm not lenient. I'm fine with the smug talk and insincere nonsense. He didn't tell them anything, but he's very It may not be able to whet Bill's appetite." "I can stop thinking about that kid in West Virginia for a while," Starling said. "I don't want to miss her for maybe half an hour at a time, and then she gets stabbed in the throat again. The shiny nail polish on her nails—I still don't want it." Think about it." Mapp was passionate about many things, and she wanted to find something to make Starling happy; over dinner, she composed a rough rhyme between Steve Wonder and Emily Dickinson. After some comparison, the group of eavesdropping people were fascinated. On the way back to the room, Starling grabbed a note from the mailbox, and she saw the words: Please call Albert Lawton, followed by a phone number. "That just proves my theory," she said to Mapp.The two sat down on their respective beds with their books in their hands. "what is that?" "You ran into two guys, right? Every time the fucking one who shouldn't be calling calls for you." "I've always known that." The phone rings. Mapp touched the tip of his nose with a pencil. "If it's Holt Bobby Lawrence, you tell him I'm in the library," said Mapp. "I'll call him tomorrow and tell him that." It was Crawford, who was on the plane, and his voice sounded rustling on the phone. "Starling, pack for two nights and meet me in an hour." She thought the other party had hung up, and there was only an empty buzz on the phone, but then the voice suddenly appeared again: "——you don't need to bring the equipment box; just the clothes are fine." "Where do I see you?" "Smithsonian Museum." Before he could press the button to turn off the phone, he was already talking to someone else. "It's Jack Crawford." Starling said, throwing her bag lightly on the bed. Mapp peeked out from the top of the Federal Code of Criminal Procedure she was looking at.She watched Starling pack, one eyelid drooping over one of her beautiful dark eyes. "I don't want to put anything in your head," she said. "No, you do," Starling said.She knew what the other party wanted to say. Law Review was a course that Mapp worked through nights at the University of Maryland.At college, she was second in her class academically, and her attitude toward books was one of sheer effort. "Tomorrow you're supposed to take a criminal procedure code, and two days later you'll have a physical exam. Make sure Boss Crawford understands that if he's negligent, you might be 'returned.' Well done, Intern Starling!' You just say 'It's an honor!' You have to look straight into his rough, sculptural old face, 'I'm counting on you to take charge and make sure I don't have to go back for missing classes. 'Do you understand what I'm saying?" "I can make up the code," Starling said, opening a barrette between her teeth. "Yeah! Don't have time to study and fail your exams, you think they won't call you back? Are you kidding me? Girl, they're going to fly you off the back steps like a dead Easter chicken Go out and pull it off. How long is the life of gratitude, Clarice! Let him say: no return! Your grades are good--let him say it. You can iron your clothes quickly a minute before class, so I can't find my roommate anymore." Starling was driving her old Pinto steadily down the four-lane highway, slowing down a mile an hour when the front wheels started to shake.Hot gasoline, musty, blah blah blah, transmission creaking.She had vague memories of her father's pickup truck, of sitting beside him and driving with her squirming siblings, and it all mingled and echoed in her mind. Now, on this night, she was the one driving the car, rushing through the white splashing water, with the clattering clacking sound from under the car.She has time to think.Her fear was close to the back of her neck, breathing into her like a breath; other, more recent memories rolled beside her. Starling was very concerned that Katherine Baker-Martin's body had been found.Once Buffalo Bill knew who she was, he'd probably panic, he'd probably kill her, stuff a worm down his throat and throw the body away. Maybe Crawford brought that bug for identification.Could there be any other reason for her to come to the Smithsonian?But any Secret Service agent could send bugs to the Smithsonian, and for that, an FBI courier would do, and he'd let himself pack for two days. She could understand why Crawford hadn't explained it to her, since there was no wiretapping protection on this loop of the radio network, but it was too much to know. She found a station on the radio that was full of news, and after the weather it was news again, but it was no use.The report from Memphis was just a repeat of the seven o'clock news.Senator Martin's daughter is missing and the back of her shirt has been cut from the bottom up like Buffalo Bill did.There are no witnesses.The victim found in West Virginia remains unidentified. West Virginia.There is something solid and precious about Porter's Funeral Home in Clarice Starling's memory.Although the darkness is exposed, there are still some things that have lasting value, shine, and are worth preserving.She recalled these things consciously now, and found that she could hold on to them like a talisman, and at Potter's Funeral Home, standing at the sink, she found a strength that surprised her and delighted her. The source of her—this is the memory of her mother.Starling, through her brother, inherited her late father's glory, on which she had survived the hammering of the years; she was both surprised and moved to find such a rich fortune. She parked her Pinto on the lower south side of FBI headquarters at Tenth and Pennsylvania Avenues, and the crews of the two motor stations were ready on the sidewalk.The lights were shining on Bian, and the reporters looked a little overdressed.They stand in drawls, with the J Edgar Hoover Building in the background.Starling dodged the lights and walked the two blocks to the Smithsonian's National Museum of Natural History. She saw lights in the windows high up in the old building.A Baltimore County Sheriff's Department car was parked in the semicircle.Behind it was a new surveillance car, and Crawford's driver, Jeff, was waiting behind the wheel.Seeing Starling coming, he spoke into the phone.