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HE IS ONE OF THE MOST HAUNTING CHARACTERS
IN ALL OF LITERATURE.
AT LAST THE EVOLUTION OF HIS EVIL
Hannibal Lecter emerges from the nightmare of the Eastern Front, a boy in the snow, mute, with a chain around his neck.
He seems utterly alone, but he has brought his demons with him.
Hannibal’s uncle, a noted painter, finds him in a Soviet orphanage and brings him to France, where Hannibal will live with his uncle and his uncle’s beautiful and exotic wife, Lady Murasaki.
Lady Murasaki helps Hannibal to heal. With her help he flourishes, becoming the youngest person ever admitted to medical school in France.
But Hannibal’s demons visit him and torment him. When he is old enough, he visits them in turn.
He discovers he has gifts beyond the academic, and in that epiphany, Hannibal Lecter becomes death’s prodigy.
really should eat something, my lady. This will be very, very good.” “And I brought some peach ice cream, fresh peaches,” Serge said. Lady Murasaki looked into Hannibal’s eyes for a long moment. He smiled at her, perfectly calm. “Peach!” he said. 23 MIDNIGHT, LADY MURASAKI lay in her bed. The window was open to a soft breeze that carried the scent of a mimosa blooming in a corner of the courtyard below. She pushed the covers down to feel the moving air on her arms and feet. Her eyes
Now there were only the two of them. The Paris apartment vacated before the war by Lady Murasaki’s father was very Japanese in its subtle interplay of shadows and lacquer. If the furniture, un-draped piece by piece, brought Lady Murasaki memories of her father, she did not reveal them. She and Hannibal tied back the heavy draperies, letting in the sun. Hannibal looked down upon the Place des Vosges, all light and space and warm red brick, one of the most beautiful squares in Paris despite a
was only a man, and a young one at that. The sexton waved his keys before him like a censer. “It’s time,” he said and gestured with his chin. “Yes, it’s time, and past time,” Hannibal replied and went out the side door into the night. 35 ACROSS THE SEINE on the Pont au Double and down the Rue de la Bûcherie, where he heard a saxophone and laughter from a basement jazz club. A couple in the doorway smoking, a whiff of kif about them. The girl raised on her tiptoes to kiss the young man’s
said. “Poked around with his picnic fork, lazy bastard,” Grutas said. He pushed the woman away with his foot, never looking at her, and she hurried out of the cabin. “Where is he, this poison little boy who kills Dortlich?” Milko said. Kolnas shrugged. “A student in Paris. I don’t know how he got the visa. He used it going in. No information on him coming out. They don’t know where he is.” “What if he goes to the police?” Kolnas said. “With what?” Grutas said. “Baby memories, child
children were handsome, Germanic-looking. In the sun, the short red hairs and whiskers on Kolnas’ face gleamed like hog bristles. Kolnas went to the cash register. He lifted his son onto a barstool. “Kolnas the Prosperous,” Hannibal said. “The Restaurateur. The Gourmand. He’s come by to check the till on his way to church. How neat he is.” The headwaiter took the reservation book from beside the telephone and opened it for Kolnas’ inspection. “Remember us in your prayers, Monsieur,” the