The Silence of the Lambs - Thomas Harris [41]
Everyone hoped Catherine Baker Martin's disap?pearance was a professional kidnapping for ransom; that possibility offered the best chance for her survival.
Nobody mentioned the worst possibility of all.
Then, shortly before dawn in Memphis, a city patrol?man investigating a prowler complaint on Winchester Avenue stopped an elderly man collecting aluminum cans and junk along the shoulder of the road. In his cart the patrolman found a woman's blouse, still buttoned in front. The blouse was slit up the back like a funeral suit. The laundry mark was Catherine Baker Martin's.
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Jack Crawford was driving south from his home in Arlington at 6:30 A.M. when the telephone in his car beeped for the second time in two minutes.
“Nine twentytwo forty.”
“Forty stand by for Alpha 4.”
Crawford spotted a rest area, pulled in, and stopped to give his full attention to the telephone. Alpha 4 is the Director of the FBI.
“Jack--- you up on Catherine Martin?”
“The night duty officer called me just now.”
“Then you know about the blouse. Talk to me.”
“Buzzard Point went to kidnap alert,” Crawford said. “I'd prefer they didn't stand down yet. When they do stand down I'd like to keep the phone surveillance. Slit blouse or not, we don't know for sure it's Bill. If it's a copycat he might call for ransom. Who's doing taps and traces in Tennessee, us or them?”
“Them. The state police. They're pretty good. Phil Adler called from the White House to tell me about the President's 'intense interest.' We could use a win here, Jack.”
“That had occurred to me. Where's the Senator?”
“En route to Memphis. She got me at home a minute ago. You can imagine.”
“Yes.” Crawford knew Senator Martin from budget hearings.
“She's coming down with all the weight she's got.”
“I don't blame her.”
“Neither do I,” the Director said. “I've told her we're going flatout, just as we've done all along. She is... she's aware of your personal situation and she's offered you a company Lear. Use it--- come home at night if you can.”
“Good. The Senator's tough, Tommy. If she tries to run it we'll butt heads.”
“I know. Do a setpick off me if you have to. What have we got at the best--- six or seven days, Jack?”
“I don't know. If he panics when he finds out who she is--- he might just do her and dump her.”
“Where are you?”
“Two miles from Quantico.”
“Will the strip at Quantico take a Lear?”
“Yes.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Yes sir.”
Crawford punched numbers into his phone and pulled back into traffic.
The Silence of the Lambsr
CHAPTER 17
Sore from a troubled sleep, Clarice Starling stood in her bathrobe and bunny slippers, towel over her shoulder, waiting to get in the bathroom she and Mapp shared with the students next door. The news from Memphis on the radio froze her for half a breath.
“Oh God,” she said. “Oh boy. ALL RIGHT IN THERE! THIS BATHROOM IS SEIZED. COME OUT WITH YOUR PANTS UP. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!” She climbed into the shower with a startled nextdoor neighbor. “Ooch over, Gracie, and would you pass me that soap.”
Ear cocked to the telephone, she packed for over?night and set her forensic kit by the door. She made sure the switchboard knew she was in her room and gave up breakfast to stick by the phone. At ten minutes to class time, with no word, she hurried down to Be?havioral Science with her equipment.
“Mr. Crawford left for Memphis fortyfive minutes ago,” the secretary told her sweetly. “Burroughs went, and Stafford from the lab left from National.”
“I put a report here for him last night. Did he leave any message for me? I'm Clarice Starling.”
“Yes, I know who you are. I have three copies of your telephone number right here, and there are several more on his desk, l believe. No, he didn't leave a thing for you, Clarice.” The woman looked at Starling's lug?gage. “Would you like me to tell him something when he calls in?”
“Did he leave a Memphis phone number on his threecard?”
“No, he'll call with it. Don't you have classes today, Clarice? You're still in school, aren't you?”