The Silence of the Lambs - Thomas Harris [116]
The room was too damned hot and it smelled of baby ammonia.
Burroughs was still talking. “We're looking for both names on the entomology magazine subscription lists, Knifemakers Guild, known offenders, the works--- no?body stands down until it's over. You're doing Bim?mel's acquaintances, right?”
“Right.”
“Justice says it's a tricky case to make if we don't catch him dirty. We need him with Martin or with something identifiable--- something with teeth or fin?gers, frankly. Goes without saying, if he's dumped Martin already, we need witnesses to put him with a victim before the fact. We can use your stuff from Bimmel regardless... Starling, I wish to God this had happened yesterday for more reasons than the Martin kid. They throw the switch on you at Quantico?”
“I think so. They put in somebody else that was waiting out a recycle--- that's what they tell me.”
“If we get him in Chicago, you made a lot of contri?bution here. They're hardasses at Quantico like they're supposed to be, but they have to see that. Wait a min?ute.”
Starling could hear Burroughs barking, away from the phone. Then he was back again.
“Nothing--- they can deploy in Calumet City in forty to fiftyfive, depends on the winds aloft. Chicago SWAT's deputized in case they find him sooner. Calumet Power and Light's come up with four possible ad?dresses. Starling, watch for anything they can use up there to narrow it down. You see anything about Chi?cago or Calumet, get to me fast.”
“Righto.”
“Now listen--- this and I gotta go. If it happens, if we get him in Calumet City, you fall in at Quantico 0800 mañana with your Mary Janes shined. Jack's going before the board with you. So is the chief gunny, Brigham. It don't hurt to ask.”
“Jerry, one other thing: Fredrica Bimmel had some warmups made by Juno, it's a brand of fat clothes. Catherine Martin had some too, for what it's worth. He might watch fat stores to find large victims. We could ask Memphis, Akron, the other places.”
“Got it. Keep smiling.”
Starling walked out in the junky yard in Belvedere, Ohio, 380 long miles from the action in Chicago. The cold air felt good on her face. She threw a small punch, in the air, rooting hard for the Hostage Rescue Team. At the same time, she felt a little trembly in her chin and cheeks. What the hell was this? What the hell would she have done if she'd found anything? She'd have called the cavalry, the Cleveland field office, and Columbus SWAT, the Belvedere PD too.
Saving the young woman, saving the daughter of Senator FuckYou Martin and the ones that might come after--- truly, that was what mattered. If they did it, everybody was right.
If they weren't in time, if they found something awful, please God they got Buffa--- got Jame Gumb or Mr. Hide or whatever they wanted to call the damned thing.
Still, to be so close, to get a hand on the rump of it, to have a good idea a day late and wind up far from the arrest, busted out of school, it all smacked of losing. Starling had long suspected, guiltily, that the Starlings' luck had been sour for a couple of hundred years now--- that all the Starlings had been wandering around pissed off and confused back through the mists of time. That if you could find the tracks of the first Starling, they would lead in a circle. This was classic loser thinking, and she was damned if she'd entertain it.
If they caught him because of the profile she'd gotten from Dr. Lecter, it had to help her with the Department of Justice. Starling had to think about that a little; her career hopes were twitching like a phantom limb.
Whatever happened, having the flash on the dress?making pattern had felt nearly as good as anything ever had. There was stuff to keep here.