[Zhongyingmei] That snake

Chapter 220 The Silence of the Lambs 7

The corridors between the wards were dimly lit, and near the end November could see bright lights shining from the last ward onto the corridor floor.

"Lecter's still awake," Barney said. "He's been awake all night—even with the lights out. Remember the rules are the same as before, keep walking when you pass, and don't touch the fence in between."

November looked forward, there was a TV at the end of the corridor that was broadcasting a religious channel, they only set the channel to religious programs, the priests in black robes were speaking in Latin, November vaguely heard something that seemed to be new The content of the appointment, the bottom of the screen is constantly flashing subtitles

Sermonizing to a bunch of mental patients?

November walked forward, he put all the pens and papers into the bag, handed it to Barney, his hands were empty, there was only a pack of cigarettes left in his pocket, no matches, no lighter.

November first walked to the end, passed by Miggs' room, and found that a new prisoner had been admitted to this ward. His face was leaning against the fence, just enough to allow the image of the TV to shine into his eyes, and the saliva flowed out to form a A shiny line. November didn't touch the switch again, but just turned off the sound.

He took the folding stool against the corner and sat down.

He knew that Dr. Lecter must have seen him, or heard him, smelled him, nevermind, it made no difference.

Lecter was drawing with a piece of charcoal on rough, poor-quality paper, and he stood his left hand aside as a reference for drawing.The charcoal strip was sharpened by him, and it kept passing across the paper, a bit like the rustling sound in his voice.

Lecter sat in the ward, behind the nylon mesh, but he would never speak first, otherwise it would be as if he was begging someone outside, and Dr. Lecter would prefer the situation to be the other way around.

"Good evening, Dr. Lecter," November heard himself say.

Lecter raised his head, glanced at November, turned over the paper in his hand, and changed the charcoal stick in his right hand to his left.Inferior paper will leave marks on the other side due to carbon pen painting, and Lecter can use his left hand to paint on the blank part of the other side that is not scratched equally smoothly.

"November, did you come alone?"

"You asked me to come alone," November cuts to the chase. "I was in West Virginia yesterday. They found the floating body of one of Buffalo Bill's latest victims there."

"While we're talking, I keep on sketching, do you mind?

"No, you draw."

"Then can you please turn your head to the right side? I like this angle better, and I can see the clear curve of the bridge of the nose."

November blinked, and looked at the piece of paper in Lecter's hand, on which a basic structure was formed, which was a head portrait.He did as Lecter said.

Crowford mentioned to November that he could give Hannibal something he wanted, such as promising the senator to give him a view, and to go to a federal agency.And Lecter may not necessarily agree, maybe he will be like a hunter, giving little by little bait, luring the prey forward, even if Buffalo Bill really killed Catherine, it doesn't matter, looking at the ginseng The sight of the senator's mother weeping in grief is definitely more exciting to Lecter than a window with a view.

Corwford told November to be careful.

"Have you examined the body?"

"No."

"Why not? I remember you studied medicine, surgery or internal medicine?"

"Surgery, Jack Crowford didn't allow me to go in, I just went to check the body dumping site."

"Have you ever heard a saying? A doctor out of control is the most terrible killer in the world. Have you seen his previous masterpieces?"

"Just like you, right?" November was unmoved, "I've seen pictures of those skinned women, and Klaus."

Hannibal's hand paused for a moment, and he used the little finger of his right hand as a brush for light and shade, blurring the sharp lines and creating a clear and solid background.

"You think Klaus killed him?"

"You said that Raspail likes to embellish to make him seem dangerous and romantic, and Klaus's head is cut off along the jaw to cover the rope on the neck. Buffalo Bill has a building that is at least two stories high. building. Also, both Klaus and the sixth victim had a worm in their throat pipe."

"What bug, butterfly?"

"A certain moth that the Smithsonian's Department of Entomology is still identifying."

"How do you feel when you look at the picture?"

"what?"

November really didn't hear this sentence clearly, he regretted it after he said it, and he might lose the initiative because of it.

"How do you feel when you look at the pictures of Buffalo Bill's other victims?"

November pursed his lips, "It's a pity."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"I do not know."

"You see them only as strangers, strange dead, and society teaches us to face the death of a stranger—if he has nothing to do with you—and you should regret the loss of a life. But where you are You are a law enforcement officer, you should have other emotions besides regret." Lecter said, "Look at the kid next door, his name is Sammy, he will worship the crucified Jesus and long for salvation."

"An adolescent with dementia who is escaping reality and has a split personality."

"You can see that?"

"The kind that smells like goat. It's trans-3-methyl-2-isohexanoic acid."

"Doctor Lecter, you said that Buffalo Bill can skin people and is not a sexual sadist. This has been confirmed one by one. Now there is a chance. If you can give clues to save Catherine, her mother, Senator Martin, will Happy to accommodate your request. A federal prison, a landscape, even a job in a prison, as long as you are willing to cooperate."

"And what about the security restraints?"

"Won't relax."

"Hehe," Hannibal laughed, "didn't you find the contradiction in your words? How could a U.S. senator choose you as a messenger? I'd rather imagine Oliver Williams standing here and saying that to me words, but he would never say that."

"You chose me as your messenger."

"Corwford asked you to come, but I know he won't pay me anything. You go tell Senator Martin something who sent you as a messenger. I can't say what yet. It's also a deal. In exchange, I think Hear your story."

"make a deal."

"What's your most unforgettable childhood memory?"

November frowned at Lecter for the first time after entering the mental hospital, showing an expression other than indifference.

"You're different this time from the last time you came with Jack and Clarice. The last time you were serious, this time you were indifferent. You care a lot about what they think of you, but you don't care about mine?"

"You're trying to find a real story to evaluate yourself, aren't you?" November's tone was a bit unfriendly, "I remember one time, when I was still in the orphanage."

"Tell me."

"I can't remember exactly when, but once again the nuns told me to go to a big room alone, saying that someone wanted to see me."

"Sponsor of the orphanage?"

"No, the sponsor of the orphanage is Stark."

Hannibal's purple eyes darkened.

"Did you go? You went."

November nodded, "I'm going."

"Who did you meet? Who was waiting for you?"

"A girl... maybe she shouldn't be called a girl. She was floating in a glass tank with a fish tail but no scales. A professor in a blue suit stood by and waited for her. She couldn't speak, only To be able to look at me with those dark eyes. I don't know if it's a dream or something...that's all."

"Very well. Although you gave me a fantasy story, I can also tell you what Buffalo Bill wants. Go tell the Senator. I want to hear if she can come up with some more interesting conditions."

"What does he want?"

"He wanted to make a women's vest," said Dr. Lecter.

November stood up and wanted to put the folding stool back and leave, but Hannibal stopped him, "Don't be so rude, at least Will will say good night when he leaves my clinic."

"Good night, Doctor Lecter."

"Good night." Hannibal smiled, "This is a bonus of the deal."

He threw his sketch paper on the ground from between the fences, and November picked it up. On it was an unfinished portrait of the left hand, turned over to the portrait he had just drawn, a side face, or two faces overlapped Together, one is Will and one is November.

"What does it mean?"

"It's nothing, you should bring your bag or folder in, Chilton doesn't like me handing things over to others. Remember to turn on the TV, the goat smell on Sammy's body has faded a lot, and he still has something Ji, give my regards to Will, I miss being with him and Abigail."

November folded the sketch six times and put it in his pocket.

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"That's about it, he doesn't want to say more." November explained the situation to Corwford, omitting the part about himself.

"When do you think he will still be willing to speak?"

"In a few days, or a week, or let Senator Martin ask himself. But we don't have that much time."

"You try again."

"Mr. Corwford, actually I..." November looked into Corwford's eyes, he didn't know why, Corwford seemed to be afraid of this move, and would turn his head away every time, "I want to leave temporarily."

"you sure?"

"There's still Jack and Starling around, I'm not worried."

Corwford didn't say anything, but patted him on the shoulder, "Go, but come back immediately, there is still a need for manpower here."

November drove his own car back to Wolf Trap, Will must be at home at this time, probably sleeping, November didn't want to disturb him, but the sketch in his pocket was like a fire that forced people to move forward .