thomas_harris_the_silence_of_the_lambs_st_martin's_paperbacks_1991

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the silence of the lamb thomas harris chapter 1 behavioral science, the fbi section that deals with serial murder, is on the bottom floor of the academy building at quantico, half-buried in the earth. clarice starling reached it flushed after a fast walk from hogan's alley on the firing range. she had grass in her hair and grass stains on her fbi academy windbreaker from diving to the ground under fire in an arrest problem on the range. no one was in the outer office, so she fluffed briefly by her reflection in the glass doors. she knew she could look all right without primping. her hands smelled of gunsmoke, but there was no time to wash--- section chief crawford's summons had said now. she found jack crawford alone in the cluttered suite of offices. he was standing at someone else's desk talking on the telephone and she had a …

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y of his criminology seminars was a factor in her coming to the bureau. she wrote him a note when she qualified for the academy, but he never replied, and for the three months she had been a trainee at quantico, he had ignored her. starling came from people who do not ask for favors or press for friendship, but she was puzzled and regretful at crawford's behavior. now, in his presence, she liked him again, she was sorry to note. clearly something was wrong with him. there was a peculiar cleverness in crawford, aside from his intelligence, and starling had first noticed it in his color sense and the textures of his clothing, even within the fbi-clone standards of agent dress. now he was neat but drab, as though he were molting. "a job came up and i thought about you," he said. "it's not really a job, it's …

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nodded. "we've developed a questionnaire. it applies to all the known serial murderers in modern times." he handed her a thick sheaf of papers in a flimsy binding. "there's a section for investigators, and one for surviving victims, if any. the blue is for the killer to answer if he will, and the pink is a series of questions an examiner asks the killer, getting his reactions as well as his answers. it's a lot of paperwork." paperwork. clarice starling's self-interest snuffled ahead like a keen beagle. she smelled a job offer coming--- probably the drudgery of feeding raw data into a new computer system. it was tempting to get into behavioral science in any capacity she could, but she knew what happens to a woman if she's ever pegged as a secretary--- it sticks until the end of time. a choice was coming, and she wanted to choose well. …

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well--- okay, right. i'm glad of the chance, but you have to know i'm wondering--- why me?" "mainly because you're available," crawford said. "i don't expect him to cooperate. he's already refused, but it was through an intermediary--- the director of the hospital. i have to be able to say our qualified examiner went to him and asked him personally. there are reasons that don't concern you. i don't have anybody left in this section to do it." ' "you're jammed--- buffalo bill--- and the things in nevada," starling said. "you got it. it's the old story--- not enough warm bodies." "you said tomorrow--- you're in a hurry. any bearing on a current case?" "no. i wish there were." "if he balks on me, do you still want a psychological evaluation?" "no. i'm waist-deep in inaccessible-patient evaluations of dr. lecter and they're all different." crawford shook two vitamin c tablets …

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ide the hospital and they may know you're coming after i make the appointment." crawford leaned forward until he faced her at a distance of two feet. she watched his half-glasses blur the bags under his eyes. he had gargled recently with listerine. "now. i want your full attention, starling. are you listening to me?" "yes sir." "be very careful with hannibal lecter. dr. chilton, the head of the mental hospital, will go over the physical procedure you use to deal with him. don't deviate from it. do not deviate from it one iota for any reason. if lecter talks to you at all, he'll just be trying to find out about you. it's the kind of curiosity that makes a snake look in a bird's nest. we both know you have to back-and-forth a little in interviews, but you tell him no specifics about yourself. you don't want any …

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the silence of the lamb thomas harris chapter 1 behavioral science, the fbi section that deals with serial murder, is on the bottom floor of the academy building at quantico, half-buried in the earth. clarice starling reached it flushed after a fast walk from hogan's alley on the firing range. she had grass in her hair and grass stains on her fbi academy windbreaker from diving to the ground under fire in an arrest problem on the range. no one was in the outer office, so she fluffed briefly by her reflection in the glass doors. she knew she could look all right without primping. her hands smelled of gunsmoke, but there was no time to wash--- section chief crawford's …

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