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“I want something very simple, Clarice, and Crawford can give it to me. What I want is a view,” the Doctor’s voice was almost a murmur by the time he said ‘view.’
No matter how relaxed Dr. Lecter could keep his expressions, Starling was sure she could hear desperation, even hunger in his voice. She tried not to shiver. He remained seated on the floor across from her, one leg at full extension, and the other pulled close to his body. Opposite him, Clarice’s legs were criss-crossed. They could have been old friends talking about the weather or their childhood together, had there not been an inch of bulletproof Plexiglass between them.
“A view, where I can see a tree, or maybe even water.” Starling remained seated, but inched forward towards the glass. It was difficult to hear him.
The lights flickered on in the doctor’s cell, and he was suddenly made completely visible.
“Eight years in a cell with no windows, no sight but the pale grey walls. But now you’re here, Clarice. I have a view.”
Starling flushed. “Doctor, I could get you your view, you mean?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She couldn’t take a contradiction. “Your drawings, Dr. Lecter… The Duomo, I can’t promise you that, but I’ll ask Mr. Crawford. I’ll try.”
“Thank you, Clarice.”
“Doctor?”
“Yes?”
“How is Florence?”
A pause. Dr. Lecter had not expected this. Starling was often so insistent in her quest for Gumb, yet she never forgot pleasantries. He smiled. “It’s quite beautiful, Clarice. One of my favorite places to visit. I once had a house there, but you knew that.”
Starling nodded; she reread the file on Lecter before making her second visit. The house had been granted to one of his victim’s families as a means of compensation for what he did. As if a pretty building could make it up to them.
Agent Starling’s weight shifted forward as she sat. Her upper half suddenly felt heavy.
“There is a restaurant close to the Palazzo Niccolini al Duomo, Clarice, the one I drew, called Le Botteghe Di Donatello. Picture it.” Starling closed her eyes and painted the scene as he described. “It had a quaint storefront, with window boxes and a seated patio area outside. I preferred to eat there, outside.”
Starling pictured the Doctor in her mental image, on a pretty day when the sun was shining. She caught herself smiling, before inwardly scolding her actions and then correcting them.
Her shoulders relaxed.
“They served the most delicious ribollita. It was a lunch restaurant, cheap for my tastes but promising nonetheless. I can remember the breeze one day, in early June, strong enough to counter the heat from the sun, yet gentle.” Hannibal had wanted her to relax, and evidently, he was succeeding. She had come to him dripping wet and exhausted; he found it necessary to give her a break.
He also really enjoyed seeing her relaxed with her eyes softly shut. Her face would be the subject of a new drawing once she left. “I sat alone with my thoughts. In the afternoon, I’d go to the Central Library.”
Starling’s shoulders relaxed completely. Slowly, she inched toward the glass.
“I’d sit and read for awhile. ‘Ecce deus fortior me, qui veniens dominabitur mihi.’” He spoke softly, watching the woman carefully. Sitting only two feet from the glass, they were nearer than they had been since he told her about Raspail.
She fell two inches closer, his towel draped around her neck.
“‘Ne le braccia,’” he began,
Starling’s head moved forward. Closer.
“‘Avea madonna avvolta,’”
Another few inches. Closer.
“‘in un drappo,’”
Inch by inch, closer.
“‘dormendo.’”
Starling’s head hit the wall. It was a low sound, quiet but hallowing. She woke with a start. Barney called down from the end of the hallway. Clarice dismissed him immediately.
The temporary peace that held them near was gone. Starling was standing again, blood pounding through her ears. Dr. Lecter was standing now, too, she noticed.
Clarice was caught off guard. Was he watching me? What was he trying to do? What would he have done if I hadn’t woken up? She took a moment to compose herself in front of his watchful eyes. He smiled; Starling’s incredulity was written all over her face.
Within moments, Clarice was no longer present. She was once again Officer Starling.
“Tell me who decapitated your patient, Doctor.”