The Silence of the Lambs - Thomas Harris [64]
"There never was a deal for you, with Senator Martin, but there is now. Or there could be. I've been on the phone for hours on your behalf and for the sake of that girl. I'm going to tell you the first condition: you speak only through me. I alone publish a professional account of this, my successful interview with you. You publish nothing. I have exclusive access to any material from Catherine Martin, if she should be saved.
“That condition is nonnegotiable. Youll answer me now. Do you accept that condition?”
Dr. Lecter smiled to himself.
“You'd better answer me now or you can answer Baltimore Homicide. This is what you get: If you iden?tify Buffalo Bill and the girl is found in time, Senator Martin--- and she'll confirm this by telephone--- Senator Martin will have you installed in Brushy Mountain State Prison in Tennessee, out of the reach of the Mary?land authorities. You'll be in her bailiwick, away from Jack Crawford. You'll be in a maximumsecurity cell with a view of the woods. You get books. Any outdoor exercise, the details will have to be worked out, but she's amenable. Name him and you can go at once. The Tennessee State Police will take custody of you at the airport, the governor has agreed.”
At Last Dr. Chilton has said something interesting, and he doesn't even know what it is. Dr. Lecter pursed his red lips behind the mask. The custody of police. Police are not as wise as Barney. Police are accustomed to handling criminals. They're inclined to use leg irons and handcuffs. Handcuffs and leg irons open with a handcuff key. Like mine.
“His first name is Billy,” Dr. Lecter said. “I'll tell the rest to the Senator. In Tennessee.”
The Silence of the Lambsr
CHAPTER 28
Jack Crawford declined Dr. Danielson's coffee, but took the cup to mix himself an AlkaSeltzer at the stainlesssteel sink behind the nursing station. Every?thing was stainless steel, the cup dispenser, the counter, the waste bin, the rims of Dr. Danielson's spectacles. The bright metal suggested the wink of instruments and gave Crawford a distinct twinge in the area of his inguinal ring.
He and the doctor were alone in the little galley.
“Not without a court order, you don't,” Dr. Daniel?son said again. He was brusque this time, to counter the hospitality he'd shown with the coffee.
Danielson was head of the Gender Identity Clinic at Johns Hopkins and he had agreed to meet Crawford at first light, long before morning rounds. “You'll have to show me a separate court order for each specific case and we'll fight every one. What did Columbus and Minnesota tell you--- same thing, am I right?”
“The Justice Department's asking them right now. We have to do this fast, Doctor. If the girl's not dead already, he'll kill her soon--- tonight or tomorrow. Then he'll pick the next one,” Crawford said.
“To even mention Buffalo Bill in the same breath with the problems we treat here is ignorant and unfair and dangerous, Mr. Crawford. It makes my hair stand on end. It's taken years--- we're not through yet--- ?showing the public that transsexuals aren't crazy, they aren't perverts, they aren't queers, whatever that is---”
“I agree with you---”
“Hold on. The incidence of violence among transsex?uals is a lot lower than in the general population. These are decent people with a real problem--- a famously in?transigent problem. They deserve help and we can give it. I'm not having a witch hunt here. We've never vio?lated a patient's confidence, and we never will. Better start from there, Mr. Crawford.”
For months now in his private life, Crawford had been cultivating his wife's doctors and nurses, trying to weasel every minute advantage for her. He was pretty sick of doctors. But this was not his private life. This was Baltimore and it was business. Be nice now.
"Then I haven't made myself clear, Doctor. My fault--- it's early, I'm not a morning person. The whole idea is, the man we want is not your patient. It would be someone you refused because you recognized that he was not a transsexual. We're not