Truth or Dare
part 7
Nearly half an hour later, I was completely calm. I stood up, went to the closet and selected a pair of fitted grey pants and a deep purple pullover. After I was dressed, I looked at the dress, wondering about it the tear in the side. It took me several moments to find it--it had been stitched back in a small, medical stitches. How typical. I felt my lips purse slightly, but I forced the negative feelings back into their little closet at the back of my mind. Now was not the time for emotions; now was the time for business. I picked up my handbag, dumped the contents onto the rumpled sheets and assured myself that everything was still there, even the gun. How foolish of him to let me keep it. I smile slightly. He's underestimating me, I can tell. Well, I'll get him with it.
I put everything back into the casual bag I'd brought with me. It felt good to grip the familiar leather, knowing I bought it for ME. It reminded me that I controlled my own destiny. I saw the paper on the floor and remembered the page he'd pressed into my fingers before disappearing. I bent over, picked it up, and with only the slightest amount of trepidation unfolded it. There was a small note folded inside the larger, which was a map of...well, somewhere in Russia. I looked at it long enough to realize that it was in Russian before turning my attention to the note. It was, as always, in his cursedly perfect handwriting.
My Dear Clarice,
I think our game might best take place far from the madding crowd, don't you? Hope to see you there.
Until then,
Hannibal Lecter.
Absurdly, the first thing I noticed is that he didn't use his title when he signed it. What that meant, I had no idea, but knowing his convoluted thinking, it was certainly significant somehow. I looked at the map again, closer. Although it was in Russian, the physical features allowed me to realize it was approximately the area near Moscow and some to the east. Looking very carefully over it, I was certain he must have left a clue. I sat down, holding it closer to the light. still nothing. I held it up to the light. Ah ha!
Near the right edge of the map, there was an X. I fixed my eyes on it and shifted the map down so I could read it. Well, it was in Russian, so I couldn't REALLY read it, but I put my finger on the spot and dug in my purse until I grabbed a pen and circled the area. So now I had a rough clue. I kind of expected a bit more, though. Maybe he left something else, somewhere else. I turned the map over, but it was blank. Maybe the note. But after flipping it over, holding it up to the light, and folding it in several angles, I finally decided if he left something else it wasn't there. I quick glance at the old-fashioned alarm clock told me that I needed to call Jack in about 10 minutes. I stood up, and began placing. There HAD to be something else, I just wasn't seeing it. My eyes fixed on the program on the table and I grabbed it, opening it and searching the margins. Nothing. I flipped it over. Still nothing. I held it up and hoped something would fall out. Once again, it was a wasted effort. I put it back down, looked at the flower. The frustration that started to well up got shoved back into the closet again. Time for that later. I must admit, it was a beautiful flower. I bent down to smell it like I had with the roses.
With my nose so close to his gift, I savored the delicate scent and glanced down into the flower. Wait a minute. Roses do NOT have tiny pieces of paper lodged between their petals. It was hidden so I'd never have found it if I hadn't sniffed the flower. How terribly...Lecterish. I reached two fingers down to extract it, trying not to damage the flower. The note was about the size of 1/2 of a business card, unfolded. It just had an address and tomorrow's date and the word 'breakfast.' Well. I hope that means he wants me to be at the address in time to eat breakfast, not in time to BE breakfast. Another glance at the clock tells me it's time to call Jack.
Fin
Part 7
part 7
Nearly half an hour later, I was completely calm. I stood up, went to the closet and selected a pair of fitted grey pants and a deep purple pullover. After I was dressed, I looked at the dress, wondering about it the tear in the side. It took me several moments to find it--it had been stitched back in a small, medical stitches. How typical. I felt my lips purse slightly, but I forced the negative feelings back into their little closet at the back of my mind. Now was not the time for emotions; now was the time for business. I picked up my handbag, dumped the contents onto the rumpled sheets and assured myself that everything was still there, even the gun. How foolish of him to let me keep it. I smile slightly. He's underestimating me, I can tell. Well, I'll get him with it.
I put everything back into the casual bag I'd brought with me. It felt good to grip the familiar leather, knowing I bought it for ME. It reminded me that I controlled my own destiny. I saw the paper on the floor and remembered the page he'd pressed into my fingers before disappearing. I bent over, picked it up, and with only the slightest amount of trepidation unfolded it. There was a small note folded inside the larger, which was a map of...well, somewhere in Russia. I looked at it long enough to realize that it was in Russian before turning my attention to the note. It was, as always, in his cursedly perfect handwriting.
My Dear Clarice,
I think our game might best take place far from the madding crowd, don't you? Hope to see you there.
Until then,
Hannibal Lecter.
Absurdly, the first thing I noticed is that he didn't use his title when he signed it. What that meant, I had no idea, but knowing his convoluted thinking, it was certainly significant somehow. I looked at the map again, closer. Although it was in Russian, the physical features allowed me to realize it was approximately the area near Moscow and some to the east. Looking very carefully over it, I was certain he must have left a clue. I sat down, holding it closer to the light. still nothing. I held it up to the light. Ah ha!
Near the right edge of the map, there was an X. I fixed my eyes on it and shifted the map down so I could read it. Well, it was in Russian, so I couldn't REALLY read it, but I put my finger on the spot and dug in my purse until I grabbed a pen and circled the area. So now I had a rough clue. I kind of expected a bit more, though. Maybe he left something else, somewhere else. I turned the map over, but it was blank. Maybe the note. But after flipping it over, holding it up to the light, and folding it in several angles, I finally decided if he left something else it wasn't there. I quick glance at the old-fashioned alarm clock told me that I needed to call Jack in about 10 minutes. I stood up, and began placing. There HAD to be something else, I just wasn't seeing it. My eyes fixed on the program on the table and I grabbed it, opening it and searching the margins. Nothing. I flipped it over. Still nothing. I held it up and hoped something would fall out. Once again, it was a wasted effort. I put it back down, looked at the flower. The frustration that started to well up got shoved back into the closet again. Time for that later. I must admit, it was a beautiful flower. I bent down to smell it like I had with the roses.
With my nose so close to his gift, I savored the delicate scent and glanced down into the flower. Wait a minute. Roses do NOT have tiny pieces of paper lodged between their petals. It was hidden so I'd never have found it if I hadn't sniffed the flower. How terribly...Lecterish. I reached two fingers down to extract it, trying not to damage the flower. The note was about the size of 1/2 of a business card, unfolded. It just had an address and tomorrow's date and the word 'breakfast.' Well. I hope that means he wants me to be at the address in time to eat breakfast, not in time to BE breakfast. Another glance at the clock tells me it's time to call Jack.
Fin
Part 7