It was either that or the painting in my dining room, is the thought that follows Charles, with a feeling of faint amusement. Stay out of my head if you want to avoid seeing my FBI work, or my art collection.

If Charles is still listening, he will catch a faint hint of amused contempt: that professor was far less formidable and interesting than Noriko had him made out to be.

With that, Dr. Lecter picks up his scotch, empties his mind of any thought whatsoever except a lizard sunning on a crumbling wall, and wanders off to sit by the fireplace and start reading Lapham's Quarterly on his iPad once more, soon engrossed in the Count of Monte Christo's banquet.-