Frederick Chilton now leaned his weight upon a silver-headed can, a subsitute sceptre as he reveled in his power.
Hannibal Lecter masked his sneer, his amusement behind a tolerant expression.
This man had Will Graham in his care. This man could listen to Will’s every conversation, listen to Will breathe, spy on his every secret.
Will Graham was Frederick Chilton’s prize, yet Will Graham was not his.
No one was more aware of this than Frederick. The anger at his prize refusing to share himself or his secrets with his therapist soothed Hannibal’s own frustration at being kept away from Will, only being able to visit Will.
It wasn’t like Hannibal didn’t have secrets of his own, people in his own care. Whether they were prisoners or fugitives, they required his attention.
He couldn’t give everything to Will Graham, no matter how much he might want to.
Hannibal soothed himself by absorbing what secondary experiences Frederick would share with him. He allowed himself a tiny smile at the image of the bumbling psychiatrist as an eager freshman, pulling at the panties concealing Will Graham’s secrets.
An oddly apt reference.
“I won’t let him get the better of me,” Frederick muttered after swallowing a mouthful of his meal. “You, Dr. Bloom, and even Jack Crawford all like him too much while the Federal Investigator is way too afraid of him. I can’t believe she’s rushing things like she is.”
“It did seem the scheduling for Will’s trial was too swift.” Usually the law was a slower, more cautious thing. Events were moving a little fast for Hannibal to control.
First Will Graham had slipped out of his grasp. Hannibal realized this while he’d watched the young man being escorted out of his house, his dogs taken away. Yes, Will had been figuring out matters faster than Hannibal anticipated, something which caused a certain flare of pride even as Hannibal sprang his trap around him.
The trap had been more effective than he’d planned. Too effective.
“You should hear the way Kade Purnell spoke of Will Graham. A liar using the law to his advantage.” Frederick wiped his lips with a fastidious delicacy. “Even Ms. Vega, her pet prosecutor warned her she was making it a bit personal.”
“Why?” Hannibal’s curiosity was piqued. “What is it about Will Graham which offends the Federal Investigator so?”
“Many things.” Frederick put down the napkin with a smirk. “Our boy reminds Purnell of an old flame. Someone foreign. Someone unorthodox. Someone she learned not to trust.”
“Curious that she would connect this person with Will Graham.” Hannibal took a sip of his wine, a curious anticipation growing in him. “She didn’t happen to mention their name?”
“Popil, Pascalle Popil.” Frederick took a sip of wine of himself, not seeming to notice any change in Hannibal. He was too amused by his own tale. “She worked with the F.B.I. a number of years ago. Will Graham reminds Purnell entirely too much of her.”
“Popil.” Hannibal tasted the name of his old rival, the woman whom Lady Murasaki had found entirely too charming. The detective who’d suspected Hannibal and Chiyoh of stalking her prey, prey who belonged to the law.
There was a certain similarity between Popil and Jack Crawford, an elegance, a cool intellect which wasn’t to be underestimated. Hannibal never would have thought of connecting her with Will Graham.
Except in looks. Will did have a certain slim grace which was similar to the French detective’s. Plus they had the same tousled brown curls. Popil took more care to arrange hers.
“It sounds as if this Popil worked with Agent Purnell long before Jack Crawford ever brought Will Graham into the ranks of the F.B.I.,” Hannibal observed, picking up his knife and fork.
“If that was even her real name.” Frederick smirked, leaning forward. “Popil may not have been her real name.”
It may not have been. Hannibal always suspected Popil had secrets, secrets with as little regard for the law as his own. He’d once taunted her about it when he’d been young, reckless, and more than a little jealous of how close she was getting to his aunt.
Her name coming up in connection with a man Hannibal was growing even closer to, felt like fate showing its usual ironic sense of humor.
“And just how does Will Graham remind Agent Purnell of Pascalle Popil?” Hannibal cut his meat, watching Frederick beneath his eyelashes.
“His good looks.” Frederick smirked as if he’d just told a joke. “Like you and Dr. Bloom, Agent Purnell thinks our boy is entirely too attractive. He’s using his charm to manipulate everyone, including Jack Crawford.”
“Beauty is a weapon which has been used to seduce and manipulate.” Hannibal paused to lift a piece of meat to his mouth and chew.
A bit astringent. He suspected if he was to eat Kade Purnell, she would taste even more astringent.
He was a bit regretful he’d never found out what Pascalle Popil tasted like.
“Kade Purnell said something similiar.” Frederick leaned a little closer. “She said Will Graham was manipulating Jack Crawford the way Pascalle Popil once manipulated her. One look from those soulful eyes draws others into a madness which is pure manipulation. A madness which makes the manipulated think they have all the power in the relationship.”
“A delusion to be sure.” A brief stab of envy throbbed in his chest at this curious comparison.
Will Graham had brought Jack Crawford and Hannibal Lecter together. He remained their mutal object of concern.
Jack thought Will had betrayed him, yet he still cared about Will a great deal. Hannibal could read it in his voice, the way his eyes grew a touch misty while he tried to stay cool.
Resentment had been nourished in Will Graham toward Jack Crawford, carefully culitvated by Hannibal, resentment which flowered and grew when Jack turned the full force of the law upon him.
It would not be enough to kill Will Graham’s faith in Jack Crawford, a blind loyalty of an acolyte seeking a god.
Or of a lonely boy searching for a father. A father who was strong enough not to disappoint him.
“Is it really a delusion?” Frederick sniffed. “I agree with Purnell that Will Graham is playing Jack, playing you all, but she’s letting the fear of that game get the better of her. There’s little Will Graham can do behind bars.”
“So it seems.” Hannibal took another sip of wine. “It would be wise not underestimate Will, Frederick. He’s in a desperate situation. Agent Purnell trying to corner him in her fear will not resolve things.”
“I might say the same thing to you.” Frederick raised an eyebrow. “Don’t let your fondness for my patient get the better of you. He doesn’t return your feelings.”
The pompous little man leaned back in his seat, stuffed with food and full of himself. Ready to savor any distress his words might create. “Will Graham tells anyone who’ll listen that you’re the devil.”
“And that means you, Frederick, are dining with the devil.” Hannibal raised his glass. “Take care.”
The overconfident little man chuckled, lifting his own glass to clink against Hannibal’s.
Once again Hannibal hid his smirk behind his mask, considering what he’d learned.
Popil had once worked with Purnell. His past was intersecting with his present. Who knew how it might effect his future?
As long as Will Graham remained a part of it. Hannibal Lecter decided at that moment. No matter what his trap might have done to its prey, Hannibal was going to retrieve Will from the jaws of the law.
He never intended to let the F.B.I. keep him anyway. Just allow Will Graham to get a taste of how just the forces of justice were.
Kade Purnell might do an admirable job of doing this. As long as she didn’t damage Will while he was within reach of her fearful fist.
Hannibal Lecter would have to take especial care to see she didn’t.