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  Bowman put the message on his desk and aligned it precisely with the corners of his blotter. He polished his rimless spectacles for what seemed to Graham a very long time.

  Bowman had a reputation for being quick. Even the explosives section forgave him for not being an ex-Marine and granted him that.

  “We have twenty minutes,” Graham said.

  “I understand. You calledLangley?”

  “Crawford did.”

  Bowman read the message many times, looked at it upside down and sideways, ran down the margins with his finger. He took a Bible from his shelves. For five minutes the only sounds were the two men breathing and the crackle of onionskin pages.

  “No,” he said. “We won’t make it in time. Better use what’s left for whatever else you can do.”

  Graham showed him an empty hand.

  Bowman swiveled around to face Graham and took off his glasses. He had a pink spot on each side of his nose. “Do you feel fairly confident the note to Lecter is the only communication he’s had ftom your Tooth Fairy?”

  “Right.”

  “The code is something simple then. They only needed cover against casual readers. Measuring by the perforations in the note to Lecter only about three inches is missing. That’s not much room for instructions. The numbers aren’t right for a jailhouse alphabet grid—the tap code. I’m guessing it’s a book code.”

  Crawford joined them. “Book code?”

  “Looks like it. The first numeral, that‘100prayers,’ could be the page number. The paired numbers in the scriptural references could be line and letter. But what book?”

  “Not the Bible?” Crawford said.

  “No, not the Bible. I thought it might be at first. Galatians 6:11 threw me off. ‘Ye see how large a letter I have written unto you with mine own hand.’ That’s appropriate, but it’s coincidence because next he has Galatians15:2.Galatians has only six chapters. Same with Jonah 6:8—Jonah has four chapters. He wasn’t using a Bible.”

  “Maybe the book title could be concealed in the clear part of Lecter’s message,” Crawford said.

  Bowman shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then the Tooth Fairy named the book to use. He specified it in his note to Lecter,” Graham said.

  “It would appear so,” Bowman said. “What about sweating Lecter? In a mental hospital I would think drugs-“

  “They tried sodium amytal on him three years ago trying to find out where he buried aPrincetonstudent,” Graham said. “He gave them a recipe for dip. Besides, if we sweat him we lose the connection. If the Tooth Fairy picked the book, it’s something he knew Lecter would have in his cell.”

  “I know for sure he didn’t order one or borrow one from Chilton,” Crawford said.

  “What have the papers carried about that, Jack? About Lecter’s books.”

  “That he has medical books, psychology books, cookbooks.”

  “Then it could be one of the standards in those areas, something so basic the Tooth Fairy knew Lecter would definitely have it,” Bowman said. “We need a list of Lecter’s books. Do you have one?”

  “No.” Graham stared at his shoes. “I could get Chilton… Wait. Rankin and Willingham, when they tossed his cell, they took Polaroids so they could get everything back in place.”

  “Would you ask them to meet me with the pictures of the books?” Bowman said, packing his briefcase.

  “Where?”

  “The Library of Congress.”

  Crawford checked with the CIA cryptography section one last time. The computer atLangleywas trying consistent and progressive number-letter substitutions and a staggering variety of alphabet grids. No progress. The cryptographer agreed with Bowman that it was probably a book code.

  Crawford looked at his watch. “Will, we’re left with three choices and we’ve got to decide right now. We can pull Lecter’s message out of the paper and run nothing. We can substitute our messages in plain language, inviting the Tooth Fairy to the mail drop. Or we can let Lecter’s ad run as is.”

  “Are you sure we can still get Lecter’s message out of the Tattler?”

  “Chesterthinks the shop foreman would chisel it for about five hundred dollars.”

  “I hate to put in a plain-language message, Jack. Lecter would probably never hear from him again.”

  “Yeah, but I’m leery of letting Lecter’s message run without knowing what it says,” Crawford said. “What could Lecter tell him that he doesn’t know already? If he found out we have a partial thumbprint and his prints aren’t on file anywhere, he could whittle his thumb and pull his teeth and give us a big gummy laugh in court.”

  “The thumbprint wasn’t in the case summary Lecter saw. We better let Lecter’s message run. At least it’ll encourage the Tooth Fairy to contact him again.”

  “What if it encourages him to do something besides write?”

  “We’ll feel sick for a long time,” Graham said. “We have to doit.”

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later inChicagothe Tattler’s big presses rolled, gathering speed until their thunder raised the dust in the pressroom. The FBI agent waiting in the smell of ink and hot newsprint took one of the first ones.

  The cover lines included “Head Transplant!” and “Astronomers Glimpse God!”

  The agent checked to see that Lecter’s personal ad was in place and slipped the paper into an express pouch forWashington. He would see that paper again and remember his thumb smudge on the front page, but it would be years later, when he took his children through the special exhibits on a tour of FBI headquarters.

  Chapter 15

  In the hour before dawn Crawford woke from a deep sleep. He saw the room dark, felt his wife’s ample bottom comfortably settled against the small of his back. He did not know why he had awakened until the telephone rang a second time. He found it with no fumbling.

  “Jack, this is Lloyd Bowman. I solved the code. You need to know what it says right now.”

  “Okay, Lloyd.” Crawford’s feet searched for his slippers.

  “It says: Graham homeMarathon,Florida. Save yourself. Kill them all.”

  “Goddammit. Gotta go.”

  “I know.”

  Crawford went to his den without stopping for his robe. He calledFloridatwice, the airport once, then called Graham at his hotel.

  “Will, Bowman just broke the code.”

  “What did it say?”

  “I’ll tell you in a second. Now listen to me. Everything is okay. I’ve taken care of it, so stay on the phone when I tell you.”

  “Tell me now.”

  “It’s your home address. Lecter gave the bastard your home address. Wait , Will. Sheriff’s department has two cars on the way to Sugarloaf right now. Customs launchfromMarathonis taking the ocean side. The Tooth Fairy couldn’t have done anything in this short time. Hold on. You can move faster with me helping you. Now, listen to this.

  “The deputies aren’t going to scare Molly. The sheriff’s cars are just closing the road to the house. Two deputies will move up close enough to watch the house. You can call her when she wakes up. I’ll pick you up in half an hour.”

  “I won’t be here.”

  “The next plane in that direction doesn’t go until eight. It’ll be quicker to bring them up here. My brother’s house on theChesapeakeis available to them. I’ve got a good plan, Will, wait and hear it. If you don’t like it I’ll put you on the plane myself.”

  “I need some things from the armory.

  “We’ll get it soon as I pick you up.”

  * * *

  Molly and Willy were among the first off the plane atNationalAirportinWashington. She spotted Graham in the crowd, did not smile, but turned to Willy and said something as they walked swiftly ahead of the stream of tourists returning fromFlorida.

  She looked Graham up and down and came to him with a light kiss. Her brown fingers were cold on his cheek.

  Graham felt the boy watching. Willy shook hands from a f
ull arm’s length away.

  Graham made a joke about the weight of Molly’s suitcase as they walked to the car.

  “I’ll carry it,” Willy said.

  A brown Chevrolet withMarylandplates moved in behind them as they pulled out of the parking lot.

  Graham crossed the bridge at Mington and pointed out the LincoIn and Jefferson memorials and theWashingtonMonumentbefore heading east toward theChesapeake Bay. Ten miles outsideWashingtonthe brown Chevrolet pulled up beside them in the inside lane. The driver looked across with his hand to his mouth and a voice from nowhere crackled in the car.

  “Fox Edward, you’re clean as a whistle. Have a nice trip.”

  Graham reached under the dash for the concealed microphone. “Roger, Bobby. Much obliged.”

  The Chevrolet dropped behind them and its turn signal came on. “Just making sure no press cars or anything were following,” Graham said.

  “I see,” Molly said.

  They stopped in the late afternoon and ate crabs at a roadside restaurant. Willy went to look at the lobster tank.

  “I hate it, Molly. I’m sorry,” Graham said.

  “Is he after you now?”

  “We’ve had no reason to think so. Lecter just suggested it to him, urged him to do it.”

  “It’s a clammy, sick feeling.”

  “I know it is. You and Willy are safe at Crawford’s brother’s house. Nobody in the world knows you’re there but me and Crawford.”

  “I’d just as soon not talk about Crawford.”

  “It’s a nice place, you’ll see.”

  She took a deep breath and when she let it out the anger seemed to go with it, leaving her tired and calm. She gave him a crooked smile. “Hell, I just got mad there for a while. Do we have to put up with any Crawfords?”

  “Nope.” He moved the cracker basket to take her hand. “How much does Willy know?”

  “Plenty. His buddy Tommy’s mother had a trash newspaper from the supermarket at their house. Tommy showed it to Willy. It had a lot of stuff about you, apparently pretty distorted. AboutHobbs, the place you were after that, Lecter, everything. It upset him. I asked him if he wanted to talk about it. He just asked me if I knew it all along. I said yes, that you and I talked about it once, that you told me everything before we got married. I asked him if he wanted me to tell him about it, the way it really was. He said he’d ask you to your face.”

  “Damn good. Good for him. What was it, the Tattler ?”

  “I don’t know, I think so.”

  “Thanks a lot, Freddy.” A swell of anger at Freddy Lounds lifted him from his seat. He washed his face with cold water in the rest room.

  * * *

  Sarah was saying good night to Crawford in the office when the telephone rang. She put down her purse and umbrella to answer it.

  “Special Agent Crawford’s office… No, Mr. Graham is not in the office, but let me . . . Wait, I’ll be glad to… Yes, he’ll be in tomorrow afternoon, but let me. . .”

  The tone of her voice brought Crawford around his desk.

  She held the receiver as though it had died in her hand. “He asked for Will and said he might call back tomorrow afternoon. I tried to hold him.”

  “Who?”

  “He said, ‘Just tell Graham it’s the Pilgrim.’ That’s what Dr. Lecter called—”

  “The Tooth Fairy,” Crawford said.

  * * *

  Graham went to the grocery store while Molly and Willy unpacked. He found canary melons at the market and a ripe cranshaw. He parked across the street from the house and sat for a few minutes, still gripping the wheel. He was ashamed that because of him Molly was rooted out of the house she loved and put among strangers.

  Crawford had done his best. This was no faceless federal safe house with chair arms bleached by palm sweat. It was a pleasant cottage, freshly whitewashed, with impatiens blooming around the steps. It was the product of careful hands and a sense of order. The rear yard sloped down to theChesapeake Bayand there was a swim—ming raft.

  Blue-green television light pulsed behind the curtains. Molly and Willy were watching baseball, Graham knew.

  Willy’s father had been a baseball player, and a good one. He and Molly met on the school bus, married in college.

  They trooped around the Florida State League while he was in the Cardinals’ farm system. They took Willy with them and had a terrific time. Spam and spirit. He got a tryout with the Cardinals and hit safely in his first two games. Then he began to have difficulty swallowing. The surgeon tried to get it all, but it metastasized and ate him up. He died five months later, when Willy was six.

  Willy still watched baseball whenever he could. Molly watched baseball when she was upset.

  Graham had no key. He knocked.

  “I’ll get it.” Willy’s voice.

  “Wait.” Molly’s face between the curtains. “All right.”

  Willy opened the door. In his fist, held close to his leg, was a fish billy.

  Graham’s eyes stung at the sight. The boy must have brought it in his suitcase.

  Molly took the bag from him. “Want some coffee? There’s gin, but not the kind you like.”

  When she was in the kitchen, Willy asked Graham to come outside.

  From the back porch they could see the riding lights of boats anchored in the bay.

  “Will, is there any stuff I need to know to see about Mom?”

  “You’re both safe here, Willy. Remember the car that followed us from the airport making sure nobody saw where we went? Nobody can find out where you and your mother are.”

  “This crazy guy wants to kill you, does he?”

  “We don’t know that. I just didn’t feel easy with him knowing where the house is.”

  “You gonna kill him?”

  Graham closed his eyes for a moment. “No. It’s just my job to find him. They’ll put him in a mental hospital so they can treat him and keep him from hurting anybody.”

  “Tommy’s mother had this little newspaper, Will. It said you killed a guy inMinnesotaand you were in a mental hospital. I never knew that. Is it true?”

  “Yes.”

  “I started to ask Mom, but I figured I’d ask you.”

  “I appreciate your asking me straight out. It wasn’t just a mental hospital; they treat everything.” The distinction seemed important. “I was in the psychiatric wing. It bothers you, finding out I was in there. Because I’m married to your mom.

  “I told my dad I’d take care of her. I’ll do it, too.”

  Graham felt he had to tell Willy enough. He didn’t want to tell him too much.

  The lights went out in the kitchen. He could see Molly’s dim outline inside the screen door and he felt the weight of her judgment. Dealing with Willy he was handling her heart.

  Willy clearly did not know what to ask next. Graham did it for him.

  “The hospital part was after the business withHobbs.”

  “You shot him?”

  “Yes.”

  “How’d it happen?”

  “To begin with, Garrett Hobbs was insane. He was attacking college girls and he—… killed them.”

  “How?”

  “With a knife; anyway I found a little curly piece of metal in the clothes one of the girls had on. It was the kind of shred a pipe threader makes—remember when we fixed the shower outside?

  “I was taking a look at a lot of steamfitters, plumbers and people. lt took a long time.Hobbshad left this resignation letter at a construction job I was checking. I saw it and it was… peculiar. He wasn’t working anywhere, and I had to find him at home.

  “I was going up the stairs inHobbs’s apartment house. A uniformed officer was with me.Hobbsmust have seen us coming. I was halfway up to his landing when he shoved his wife out the door and she came falling down the stairs dead.”

  “He had killed her?”

  “Yeah. So I asked the officer I was with to call for SWAT, to get some help. But then I could hear kids in there and some
screaming. I wanted to wait, but I couldn’t.”

  “You went in the apartment?”

  “I did.Hobbshad caught this girl from behind and he had a knife. He was cutting her with it. And I shot him.”

  “Did the girl die?”

  “No.”

  “She got all right?”

  “After a while, yes. She’s all right now.

  Willy digested this silently. Faint music came from an anchored sailboat.

  Graham could leave things out for Willy, but he couldn’t help seeing them again himself.

  He left out Mrs. Hobbs on the landing clutching at him, stabbed so many times. Seeing she was gone, hearing the screaming from the apartment, prying the slick red fingers off and cracking his shoulder before the door gave in. Hobbs holding his own daughter busy cutting her neck when he could get to it, her struggling with her chin tucked down, the .38 knocking chunks out of him and he still cutting and he wouldn’t go down.Hobbssitting on the floor crying and the girl rasping. Holding her down and seeingHobbshad gotten through the windpipe, but not the arteries. The daughter looked at him with wide glazed eyes and at her father sitting on the floor crying “See? See?” until he fell over dead.

  That was where Graham lost his faith in .38’s.

  “Willy, the business withHobbs, it bothered me a lot. You know, I kept it on my mind and I saw it over and over. I got so I couldn’t think about much else. I kept thinking there must be some way I could have handled it better. And then I quit feeling anything. I couldn’t eat and I stopped talking to anybody. I got really depressed. So a doctor asked me to go into the hospital, and I did. After a while I got some distance on it. The girl that got hurt inHobbs’s apartment came to see me. She was okay and we talked a lot. Finally I put it aside and went back to work.”

  “Killing somebody, even if you have to do it, it feels that bad?”

  “Willy, it’s one of the ugliest things in the world.”