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AT THE moment Dr Lecter raised his wine to the candle, A. Benning, staying
late at the DNA lab, raised her latest gel to the light and looked at the
electrophoresis lines dotted with red, blue, and yellow. The sample was
epithelial cells from the toothbrush brought over from the Palazzo Capponi in
Cheap custom writing service can write essays on Chapter 63
the Italian diplomatic pouch.
Ummmm umm umm umm, she said and called Starlings number at Quantico.
Eric Pickford answered.
Hi, may I speak to Clarice Starling please?
Shes gone for the day and Im in charge, how can I help you?
Do you have a beeper number for her?
Shes on the other phone. What have you got?
Would you please tell her its Benning from the DNA lab. Please tell her the
toothbrush and the eyelash off the arrow are a match. Its Dr Lecter. And ask
her to call me.
Give me your extension number. Sure, Ill tell her right now. Thanks.
Starling was not on the other line. Pickford called Paul Krendler at home.
When Starling did not call A. Benning at the lab, the technician was a little
disappointed. A. Benning had put in a lot of extra time. She went home long
before Pickford ever called Starling at home.
Mason knew an hour before Starling.
He talked briefly to Paul Krendler, taking his tine, letting the breaths come.
His mind was very clear.
Its time to get Starling out, before they start thinking proactive and put
her out for bait. Its Friday, youve got the weekend. Get things started,
Krendler. Tip the Wops about the ad and get her out of there, its time for
her to go. And Krendler?
I wish we could just-
Just do it, and when you get that next picture postcard from the Caymans,
itll have a whole new number written under the stamp.
All right, Ill-
Krendler said, and heard the dial tone.
The short talk was uncommonly tiring for Mason.
Last, before sinking into a broken sleep, he summoned Cordell and said to him,
Send for the pigs.
Chapter 64
IT is more trouble physically to move a semi-wild pig against its will than to
kidnap a man. Pigs are harder to get hold of than men and big ones are
stronger than a man and they cannot be intimidated with a gun. There are the
tusks to consider if you want to maintain the integrity of your abdomen and
legs.
Tusked pigs instinctively disembowel when fighting the upright species, men
and bears. They do not naturally hamstring, but can quickly learn the
behavior.
If you need to maintain the animal alive, you cannot haze it with electrical
shock, as pigs are prone to fatal coronary fibrillation.
Carlo Deogracias, master of the pigs, had the patience of a crocodile. He had
experimented with animal sedation, using the same acepromazine he planned to
use on Dr Lecter. Now he knew exactly how much was required to quiet a
hundred-kilo wild boar and the intervals of dosage that would keep him quiet
for as long as fourteen hours without any lasting aftereffects.
Since the Verger firm was a large-scale importer and exporter of animals and
an established partner of the Department of Agriculture in experimental
breeding programs, the way was made smooth for Masons pigs. The Veterinary
Service Form 17-1 was faxed to the Animal and Plant Health Inspection
Service at Riverdale, Maryland, as required, along with veterinary affidavits
from Sardinia and a $.50 users fee for fifty straws of frozen semen Carlo
wanted to bring.
The permits for swine and semen came by return fax, along with a waiver of the
usual Key West quarantine for swine, and a confirmation that an on-board
inspector would clear the animals at Baltimore-Washington International
Airport.
Carlo and his helpers, the brothers Piero and Tommaso Falcione, put the crates
together. They were excellent crates with sliding doors at each end, sanded
inside and padded. At the last minute, they remembered to crate the bordello
mirror too. Something about its rococo frame around reflected pigs delighted
Mason in photographs.
Carefully, Carlo doped sixteen swine - five boars raised in the same pen and
eleven sows, one of them pregnant, none in estrus. When they were unconscious
he gave them a close physical examination. He tested their sharp teeth and the
tips of their great tusks with his fingers. He held their terrible faces in
his hands, looked into the tiny glazed eyes and listened to make sure their
airways were clear, and he hobbled their elegant little ankles. Then he
dragged them on canvas into the crates and slid the end doors in place.
The trucks groaned down from the Gennargentu Mountains into Cagliari. At the
airport waited an airbus jet freighter operated by Count Fleet Airlines,
specialists in transporting racehorses. This airplane usually carried American
horses back and forth to race meets in Dubai. It carried one horse now, picked
up in Rome. The horse would not be still when it scented the wild-smelling
pigs, and whinnied and kicked in its close padded stall until the crew had to
unload it and leave it behind, causing much expense later for Mason, who had
to ship the horse home to its owner and pay compensation to avoid a lawsuit.
Carlo and his helpers rode with the hogs in the pressurized cargo hold. Every
half-hour out over the heaving sea, Carlo visited each pig individually, put '
his hand on its bristled side and felt the thump of its wild heart.
Even if they were good and hungry, sixteen pigs could not be expected to
consume Dr Lecter in his entirety at one seating. It had taken them a day to
completely consume the filmmaker.
The first day, Mason wanted Dr Lecter to watch them eat his feet. Lecter would
be sustained on a saline drip overnight, awaiting the next course.
Mason had promised Carlo an hour with him in the interval.
In the second course, the pigs could eat him all hollow and consume the
ventral-side flesh and the face within an hour, as the first shift of the
biggest pigs and the pregnant female fell back sated and the second wave came
on. By then the fun would be over anyway.
Chapter 65
BARNEY HAD never been in the barn before. He came in a side door under the
tiers of seats that surrounded an old show-ring on three sides. Empty and
silent except for the muttering of the pigeons in the rafters, the show-ring
still held an air of expectation. Behind the auctioneers stand stretched the
open barn. Big double doors opened into the stable wing and the tack room.
Barney heard voices and called, Hello.
In the tack room, Barney, come on in.
Margots deep voice.
The tack room was a cheerful place, hung with harnesses and the graceful
shapes of saddlery. Smell of leather. Warm sunlight streaming in through dusty
windows just beneath the eaves raised the smell of leather and hay. An open
loft along one side opened into the hayloft of the barn.
Margot was putting up the currycombs and some hackamores. Her hair was paler
than the hay, her eyes as blue as the inspection stamp on meat.
Hi, Barney said from the door. He thought the room was a little stagy, set
up for the sake of visiting children. In its height and the slant of light
from the high windows it was like a church.
Hi, Barney. Hang on and well eat in about twenty minutes Judy Ingrams voice
came from the loft above.
Barneeeeeey. Good morning. Wait till you see what weve got for lunch!
Margot, you want to try to eat outside?
Each Saturday it was Margot and Judys habit to curry the motley assortment of
fat Shetlands kept for the visiting children to ride. They always brought a
picnic lunch. Lets try on the south side of the barn, in the sun, Margot
said.
Everyone seemed a little too chirpy. A person with Barneys hospital
experience knows excessive chirpiness does not bode well for the chirpee.
The tack room was dominated by a horses skull, mounted a little above head
height on the wall, with its bridle and blinkers on, and draped with the
racing colors of the Vergers.
Thats Fleet Shadow, won the Lodgepole Stakes in 5, the only winner my
father ever had, Margot said. He was too cheap to get him stuffed. She
looked up the skull. Bears a strong resemblance to Mason, doesnt it?
There was a forced-draft furnace and bellows in the corner Margot had built a
small coal fire there against re chill. On the fire was a pot of something
that smelled to soup.
A complete set of farriers tools was on a workbench.
She picked up a farriers hammer, this one with a short handle and a heavy
head. With her great arms and chest, Margot might have been a farrier herself,
or a blacksmith with particularly pointed pectorals.
You want to throw me the blankets?
Judy called down.
Margot picked up a bundle of freshly washed saddle blankets and with one
scooping move of her great arm, sent it arching up to the loft.
Okay, Im gonna wash up and get the stuff out of the jeep. Well eat in
fifteen, okay?
Judy said, coming down the ladder.
Barney, feeling Margots scrutiny, did not check out Judys behind. There were
some bales of hay with horse blankets folded on them for seats. Margot and
Barney sat.
You missed the ponies. Theyre gone to the stable in Lester, Margot said.
I heard the trucks this morning. How come?
Masons business.
A little silence. They had always been easy with silence, but not this one.
Well, Barney. You get to a point where you cant talk anymore, unless youre
going to do something. Is that where we are?
Like an affair or something, Barney said. The unhappy analogy hung in the
air.
Affair, Margot said, Ive got something for you a hell of a lot better than
that. You know what were talking about.
Pretty much, Barney said.
But if you decided you didnt want to do something, and later it happened
anyway, do you understand you could never come back on me about it?
She tapped her palm with the farriers hammer, absently perhaps, watching him
with her blue butchers eyes.
Barney had seen some countenances in his time and stayed alive by reading
them. He saw she was telling the truth.
I know that.
Same if we did something. Ill be extremely generous one time, and one time
only. But it would be enough. You want to know how much?
Margot, nothings gonna happen on my watch. Not while Im taking his money to
take care of him.
Why, Barney?
Sitting on the bale, he shrugged his big shoulders. Deals a deal.
You call that a deal? This is a deal, Margot said. Five million dollars,
Barney. The same five Krendlers, supposed to get for selling out the FBI, if
you want to know.
Were talking about getting enough semen from Mason to get Judy pregnant.
Were talking about something else too. You know if you take Masons jism
from him and leave him alive, hed get you, Barney. You couldnt run far
enough. Youd go to the fucking pigs.
Id do what?
What is it, Barney, Semper Fi, like it says on your arm?
When I took his money I said Id take care of him. While I work for him, I
wont do him any harm. You dont have to . . . do anything to him except
the medical, after hes dead. I cant touch him there.
Not one more time. You might have to help me with Cordell.
You kill Mason, you only get one batch, Barney said.
We get five ccs, even a low-normal sperm count, put extenders in it, we
could try five times with insemination, we could do it in vitro Judys
familys real fertile.
Did you think about buying Cordell?
No. Hed never keep the deal. His word would be crap. Sooner or later hed
come back on me. Hed have to go.
Youve thought about it a lot.
Yes. Barney, you have to control the nurse station. Theres tape backup on
the monitors, theres a record of every second. Theres live TV, but no
videotape running. We - I put my hand down inside the shell of the respirator
and immobilize his chest. Monitor shows the respirator still working. By the
time his heart rate and blood pressure show a change, you rush in and hes
unconscious, you can try to revive him all you want. The only thing is, you
dont happen to notice me. I just press on his chest until hes dead. Youve
worked enough autopsies, Barney. What do they look for when they suspect
smothering?
Hemorrhages behind the eyelids.
Mason doesnt have any eyelids.
She had read up, and she was used to buying anything, anybody.
Barney looked her in the face but he fixed the hammer in his peripheral vision
as he gave his answer No, Margot.
If I had let you fuck me would you do it?
No.
If I had fucked you would you do it?
No.
If you didnt work here, if you didnt have any medical responsibility to him
would you do it?
Probably not.
Is it ethics or chickenshit?
I dont know.
Lets find out. Youre fired, Barney.
He nodded, not particularly surprised.
And, Barney?
She raised a finger to her lips. Shhhh. Give me your word? Do I have to say I
could kill you with that prior in California? I dont need to say that do I?
You dont have to worry, Barney said. Ive got to worry. I dont know how
Mason lets people go. Maybe they just disappear.
You dont have to worry either, Ill tell Mason youve had hepatitis. You
dont know a lot about his business except that hes trying to help the law -
and he knows we got the prior on you, hell let you go.
Barney wondered which Dr Lecter had found more interesting in therapy, Mason
Verger or his sister.
Chapter 66
IT WAS night when the long silver transport pulled up to the barn at Muskrat
Farm. They were late and tempers were short.
The arrangements at Baltimore-Washington International Airport had gone well
at first, the on-board inspector from the Department of Agriculture
rubberstamped the shipment of sixteen swine. The inspector had an experts
knowledge of swine and he had never seen anything like them.
Then Carlo Deogracias looked inside the truck. It was a livestock transporter
and smelled like one, with traces in the cracks of many former occupants.
Carlo would not let his pigs be unloaded. The airplane waited while the angry
driver, Carlo and Piero Falcione found another livestock truck more suitable
to moving crates, located a truck wash with a steam hose and steam-cleaned the
cargo area.
Once at the main gate of Muskrat Farm, a last annoyance. The guard checked the
tonnage of the truck and refused them entrance, citing a load limit on an
ornamental bridge. He redirected them to the service road through the national
forest. Tree branches scraped the tall truck as it crept the last two miles.
Carlo liked the big clean barn at Muskrat Farm. He liked the little forklift
that gently carried the cages into the pony stalls.
When the driver of the livestock truck brought an electric cattle prod to the
cages and offered to zap a pig to see how deeply drugged it was, Carlo
snatched the instrument away from him and frightened him so badly he was
afraid to ask for it back.
Carlo would let the great rough swine recover from their sedation in the
semidarkness, not letting them out of the cages until they were on their feet
and alert. He was afraid that those awakening first might take a bite out of a
drugged sleeper. Any prone figure attracted them when the herd was not napping
together.
Piero and Tommaso had to be doubly careful since the herd ate the filmmaker
Oreste, and later his frozen assistant. The men could not be in the pen or the
pasture with the pigs. The swine did not threaten, they did not gnash their
teeth as wild pigs will, they simply kept watching the men with the terrible
single-mindedness of a swine and sidled nearer until they were close enough to
charge.
Carlo, equally single-minded, did not rest until he had walked by flashlight
the fence enclosing Masons wooded pasture which adjoined the great national
forest.
Carlo dug in the ground with his pocket-knife and examined the forest mast
under the pasture trees and found acorns. He had heard jays in the last light
driving in and thought it likely there would be acorns. Sure enough, white
oaks grew here in the enclosed field, but not too many of them. He did not
want the pigs to find their meals on the ground, as they could easily do in
the great forest.
Mason had built across the open end of the barn a stout barrier with a Dutch
gate in it, like Carlos own gate in Sardinia.
From behind the safety of this barrier, Carlo could feed them, sailing
clothing stuffed with dead chickens, legs of lamb and vegetables over the
fence into their midst.
They were not tame, but they were not afraid of men or noise. Even Carlo could
not go into the pen with them. A pig is not like other animals. There is a
spark of intelligence and a terrible practicality in pigs. These were not at
all hostile. They just liked to eat men. They were light of foot like a Miura
bull and could cut like a sheep-dog, and their movements around their keepers
had the sinister quality of premeditation. Piero had a near moment retrieving
from a feeding a shirt that they thought they could use again.
There had never been such pigs before, bigger than the European wild boar and
just as savage. Carlo felt he had created them. He knew that the thing they
would do, the evil they would destroy, would be all the credit he would ever
need in the hereafter.
By midnight, all were asleep in the barn Carlo, Piero and Tommaso slept
without dreaming in the tack room loft, the swine snored in their cages where
their elegant little feet were beginning to trot in their dreams and one or
two stirred on the clean canvas. The skull of the trotting horse, Fleet
Shadow, faintly lit by the coal fire in the farriers furnace, watched over
all.
Chapter 67
To ATTACK an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation with Masons false
evidence was a big leap for Krendler. It left him a little breathless. If the
Attorney General caught him, she would crush him like a roach.
Except for his own personal risk, the matter of ruining Clarice Starling did
not weigh with Krendler as would breaking a man. A man had a family to support
Krendler supported his own family, as greedy and ungrateful as they were.
And Starling definitely had to go. Left alone, following the threads with the
picky, petty homemaking skills of a woman, Clarice Starling would find
Hannibal Lecter. If that happened, Mason Verger would not give Krendler
anything.
The sooner she was stripped of her resources and put out there as bait, the
better.
Krendler had broken careers before, in his own rise to power, first as a state
prosecuting attorney active in politics, and later at Justice. He knew from
experience that crippling a womans career is easier than damaging a man. If a
woman gets a promotion that women shouldnt have, the most efficient way is to
say she won it on her back.
It would be impossible to make that charge stick to Clarice Starling, Krendler
thought. In fact, he couldnt think of anyone more in need of a grudge -
fucking up the dirt road. He sometimes thought of that abrasive act as he
twisted his finger in his nose.
Krendler could not have explained his animosity to Starling. It was visceral
and it belonged to a place in himself where he could not go. A place with seat
covers and a dome light, door handles and window cranks and a girl with
Starlings coloring but not her sense and her pants around one ankle asking
him what in the hell was the matter with him, and why didnt he come on and do
it, was he some kind of queer? some kind of queer? some kind of queer? If you
didnt know what a cunt Starling was, Krendler reflected, her performance in
black and white was much better than her few promotions would indicate - he
had to admit that. Her rewards had been satisfyingly few By adding the odd
drop of poison to her record over the years, Krendler had been able to
influence the FBI career board enough to block a number of plum assignments
she should have gotten, and her independent attitude and smart mouth had
helped his cause.
Mason wouldnt wait for the disposition of Feliciana Fish Market. And there
was no guarantee any shit would stick to Starling in a hearing. The shooting
of Evelda Drumgo and the others was the result of a security failure,
obviously. It was a miracle Starling was able to save that little bastard of a
baby. One more for the public to have to feed. Tearing the scab off that ugly
event would be easy, but it was an unwieldy way to get at Starling.
Better Masons way. It would be quick and she would be out of there. The
timing was propitious One Washington axiom, proved more times than the
Pythagorean theorem, states that in the presence of oxygen, one loud fart with
an obvious culprit will cover many small emissions in the same room, provided
they are nearly simultaneous.
Ergo, the impeachment trial was distracting the Justice Department enough for
him to railroad Starling.
Mason wanted some press coverage for Dr Lecter to see. But Krendler must make
the coverage seem an unhappy accident. Fortunately an occasion was coming that
would serve him well the very birthday of the FBI.
Krendler maintained a tame conscience with which to shrive himself.
It consoled him now If Starling lost her job, at worst some goddamned dyke
den where Starling lived would have to do without the big TV dish for sports.
At worst he was giving a loose cannon a way to roll over the side and threaten
nobody anymore.
A loose cannon over the side would stop rocking the boat, he thought,
pleased and comforted as though two naval metaphors made a logical equation.
That the rocking boat moves the cannon bothered him not at all. Krendler had
the most active fantasy life his imagination would permit. Now, for his
pleasure, he pictured
Starling as old, tripping over those tits, those trim legs turned blue-veined
and lumpy, trudging up and down the stairs carrying laundry, turning her face
away from the stains on the sheets, working for her board at a bed-andbreakfast
owned by a couple of goddamned hairy old dykes.
He imagined the next thing he would say to her, coming on the heels of his
triumph with cornpone country pussy.
Armed with Dr Doemlings insights, he wanted to stand close to her after she
was disarmed and say without moving his mouth, Youre old to still be fucking
your daddy, even for Southern white trash. He repeated the line in his mind,
and considered putting it in his notebook.
Krendler had the tool and the time and the venom he needed to smash Starlings
career, and as he set about it, he was vastly aided by chance and the Italian
mail.
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