Either Margot snorted or the aquarium behind her made the noise.

"Cool it, Barney. Tell us the rest," Mason said.

"Yes, sir. Sometimes Dr Lecter and I would talk late at night, when it got quiet enough. We talked about courses I was taking, and other things. He-"

"Were you taking some kind of mail-order course in e psychology, by any chance?" Doemling had to say…"No, sir, I don't consider psychology a science. Neither did Dr Lecter."

Barney went on quickly before Mason's respirator permitted him to utter a rebuke. "I can just repeat what he told me – he could see what she was becoming, she was charming the way a cub is charming, a small cub that will grow up to be like one of the big cats. One you can't play with later. She had the cublike earnestness, he said. She had all the weapons, in miniature and growing, and all she, knew so far was how to wrestle with other cubs. That amused him.

"The way it began between them will tell you something. At the beginning he was courteous but he pretty much dismissed her – then as she was leaving another inmate threw some semen in her face. That disturbed Dr Lecter, embarrassed him. It was the only time I ever saw him upset. She saw it too and tried to use it on him. He admired her moxie, I think."

"What was his attitude toward the other inmate who threw the semen? Did they have any kind of relationship?"

"Not exactly," Barney said. "Dr Lecter just killed him that night."

"They were in separate cells?"

Doemling asked. "How did he do it?"

"Three cells apart on opposite sides of the corridor," Barney said. "In the middle of the night Dr Lecter talked to him awhile and then told him to swallow his tongue. "

"So Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter became………friendly?" Mason said.

"Inside a kind of formal structure," Barney said. "They exchanged information. Dr Lecter gave her insight on the serial killer she was hunting, and she paid for it with personal information. Dr Lecter told me he thought Starling might have too much nerve for her own good, an `excess of zeal,' he called it. He thought she might work too close to the edge if she thought her assignment required it. And he said once that she was `cursed with taste.' I don't know what that means."

"Dr Doemling, does he want to fuck her or kill her, or eat her, or what?" Mason asked, exhausting the possibilities he could see.

"Probably all three," Dr Doemling said. "I wouldn't want to predict the order in which he wants to perform those acts. That's the burden of what I can tell you. No matter how the tabloids and tabloid mentalities might want to romanticize it, and try to make it Beauty arid the Beast, his object is her degradation, her suffering, and her death. He has responded to her twice: when she was insulted with the semen in her face and when she was torn apart in the newspapers after she shot those people. He comes in the guise of a mentor, but it's the distress that excites him. When the history of Hannibal Lecter is written, and it will be, this will be recorded as a case of Doemling's avunculism. To draw him she needs to be distressed."

A furrow has appeared in the broad rubbery space between Barney's eyes. "May I put something in here, Mr. Verger, since you asked me?" He did not wait for permission. "In the asylum, Dr Lecter responded to her when she held on to herself, stood there wiping come off her face and did her job. In the letters he calls her a warrior, and points out that she saved that child in the shoot- out. He admires and respects her courage and her discipline. He says himself.he's got no plans to come around. One thing he does not do is lie."

"That's exactly the kind of tabloid thinking I was talking about," Doemling said. "Hannibal Lecter does not have emotions like admiration or respect. He feels no warmth or affection. That's a romantic delusion, and it shows the dangers of a little education."

"Dr Doemling, you don't remember me, do you?"

Barney said. "I was in charge of the ward when you tried to talk to Dr Lecter, a lot of people tried it, but you're the one who left crying as I recall. Then he reviewed your book in the American journal of Psychiatry. I couldn't blame you if the review made you cry."

"That'll do, Barney," Mason said. "See about my lunch."

"A half-baked autodidact, there's nothing worse," Doemling said when Barney was out of the room.

"You didn't tell me you'd interviewed Lecter, Doctor," Mason said.

"He was catatonic at the time, there was nothing to get."

"And that made you cry?"

"That's not true."

"And you discount what Barney says."

"He's as deceived as the girl."

"Barney's probably hot for Starling himself," Krendler said.

Margot laughed to herself, but loudly enough for Krendler to hear.

"If you want to make Clarice Starling attractive to…"

Dr Lecter, let him see her distressed," Doemling said. "Let the damage he sees suggest the damage he could do. Seeing her wounded in any symbolic way will incite him like seeing her play with herself. When the fox hears a rabbit scream, he comes running, but not to help."

"I CAN'T deliver Clarice Starling," Krendler said when Doemling was gone. "I can pretty much tell you where she is and what she's doing, but I can't control Bureau assignments. And if the Bureau puts her out there for bait, they'll cover her, believe me."

Krendler pointed his finger into Mason's darkness to make his point. "You can't move in on that action. You couldn't get outside that coverage and intercept Lecter. The stakeout would spot your people in no time. Second, the Bureau won't initiate proactive unless he contacts her again or there's evidence he's close he wrote to her before and he never came around. It would take twelve people minimum to stake her out, it's expensive. You'd be better off if you hadn't gotten her off the hot seat in the shooting. It'll be messy, reversing your field and trying to hang her with that again."

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda," Mason said, doing a fair job with the s, all things considered. "Margot, look in the Milan paper, Corriere Della Sera, for.Saturday, the day after Pazzi was killed, check the first item in the agony column. Read it to us."

Margot held the dense print up to the light. "It's in English, addressed to A. A. Aaron. Says: Turn yourself in to the nearest authorities, enemies are close. Hannah. Who's Hannah?"

"That's the name of the horse Starling had as a kid," Mason said. "It's a warning to Lecter from Starling. He told her in his letter how to contact him."

Krendler was on his feet. "Goddammit. She couldn't have known about Florence. If she knows about that, she must know I've been showing you the stuff."

Mason sighed and wondered if Krendler was smart enough to be a useful politician. "She didn't know anything. I placed the ad, in La Nazione and Corriere Della Sera and in the International Herald-Tribune, to run the day after we moved on Lecter. That way if we missed, he'd think Starling tried to help him. We'd still have a tie to him through Starling."

"Nobody picked it up."

"No. Except maybe Hannibal Lecter. He may thank her for it – by mail, in person, who knows? Now, listen to me: You've still got her mail covered?"

Krendler nodded. "Absolutely. If he sends her anything, you'll see it before she does."

"Listen carefully to this, Krendler: The way this ad was ordered and paid for, Clarice Starling can never prove she didn't place it on her own, and that's a felony. That's crossing the bright line. You can break her with it, Krendler. You know how much the FBI gives a shit about you when you're out. You could be dog meat. She won't even be able to get a concealed weapon permit. Nobody will watch her but me. And Lecter will know she's out there by herself. We'll try some other things first."