H A N N I B A L

                          STARLING
               Stop.  Catch your breath.  Take your
               gun out very slowly with your left hand,
               set it on the ground and take five steps
               away from it.

     The second young man does exactly as he's told.  Then -

                          STARLING
               All right.  Who are you?

                          2ND RUNNER
               We work for Jack Crawford.  We're
               supposed to keep an eye on you.  To keep
               you safe from - you know - Hannibal the
               Cannibal.

                          STARLING
               Show me.

     He knows what that means, and shows her identification from
     Crawford's private security firm.

     She gets up off the other one then, tosses the branch away
     and walks over to the gun resting on the fallen leaves.  She
     picks it up.

                          STARLING
               Okay, here it is:  I don't need you
               looking after me.  I'm not in any danger.
               If you talk to him before I do tell him
               that.

                          2ND RUNNER
               Yes, ma'am.

     She returns the guns to each of them, first giving the one on
     the ground a hand up.

                          STARLING
               Sorry if I hurt you.

     She leaves them, continues on her run.  As the one she threw
     to the ground dusts himself off, the perspective changes to -

     A VIEW THROUGH BINOCULARS

     - of the two private security men off in the distance.

     They blur then as the binoculars are shifted.  Trees, too,
     blur across the lenses.  The view overtakes Starling, returns
     and follows her, focusing as she runs through the trees,
     staying on her until she disappears down a sloping path.

     Lecter lowers the small, expensive field glasses.  Returns
     them to their case slung over his shoulder.  Crosses the dirt
     parking area to her mustang.  Peers inside and sees no
     blinking red light on the dash.

     He takes out a slim jim.  Slips it down and across the
     driver's side jamb, tripping the lock.  He opens the door
     and sits in the bucket seat a long moment before delicately
     touching the ten and two o'clock points on the leather-clad
     steering wheel where her hands rest most often.  He leans
     closer to smell her on the leather.  Then licks it.

     INT. KRENDLER'S DC TOWNHOUSE - NIGHT

     Krendler, just back from a jog himself, sweaty T-shirt and
     headband, sits with Cordell and reads a postcard from London
     sheathed in plastic, written in Lecter's distinctive copper-
     plate.  Finishing, he looks up at a speaker phone -

                          KRENDLER
               I'm not sure I understand.

                          MASON'S VOICE
               You don't have to understand, Paul.  All
               you have to understand is what it's worth
               to you.

                          KRENDLER
               No, I don't understand why she didn't
               turn this over; she's such a - straight
               arrow.

     INT. VERGER'S CHAMBER - SAME TIME

     Looking at his speakerphone, Verger sighs.  Maybe he's making
     a terrible mistake.  Maybe Krendler is just too stupid to be
     of any real use to him.  As if to a child -

                          MASON
               She didn't turn it over because she
               didn't receive it.  She didn't receive
               it because it was never delivered to her.
               It was delivered to me for a nice
               gratuity to a not-so-nice mail room boy.

                          KRENDLER'S VOICE
               Oh.  Ohhh.

     The realization, and Krendler's look of admiration that
     follows it, only make Verger worry more about his stupidity.

                          MASON
               So what do you think?

                          KRENDLER'S VOICE
               I think you'd have been better off if
               you hadn't gotten her out of trouble in
               the first place.

                          MASON
               Woulda, shoulda, coulda - I meant, what
               do you think of the money?

     INT. KRENDLER'S TOWNHOUSE - CONTINUED

                          KRENDLER
               Five.

                          MASON'S VOICE
               Well, let's just toss it off like,
               "five."  Let's say it with the respect it
               deserves.

                          KRENDLER
               Five hundred thousand dollars.

                          MASON'S VOICE
               That's better, but not much, but don't
               say it again.  Will it work?

     Krendler considers the forged postcard again.  Eventually -

                          KRENDLER
               It won't be pretty.

                          MASON'S VOICE
               What ever is?

     INT. ASSISTANT DIRECTOR NOONAN'S OFFICE - DAY

     Starling sits next to her boss, Pearsall, and across from
     his boss, Noonan.  Krendler, too, is there, and a federal
     marshal standing in a corner of the quiet room.

                          NOONAN
               Would you identify yourself, please,
               for the record.

                          STARLING
               Special Agent Clarice Starling.  Is
               there a record, Director Noonan?  I'd
               like there to be since I have no idea
               what this is about.  Do you mind if I
               run a tape?

     She takes a little Nagra from her purse, sets it on the desk
     and turns it on.

                          NOONAN
               Tell her the charges.

                          KRENDLER
               Withholding evidence and obstruction of
               justice.

     The marshal sets the postcard with the familiar-looking
     copperplate in front of Starling.  Her eyes move quickly back
     and forth across the lines of words.  She doesn't touch it.

                          NOONAN
               Like to comment?  On tape?

                          STARLING
               Yes, I would.  I've never seen this
               before in my life.

                          KRENDLER
               How do you account for it being found in
               your - office - your - basement?

                          STARLING
               Found by who?

                          KRENDLER
               By me.

                          STARLING
               I don't think you want me to answer that,
               Mr. Krendler.  Let me ask you this:  What
               possible reason might I have to withhold
               it?

                          KRENDLER
               Perhaps because of the nature of its
               content.  It reads like a - like a love
               letter to me.

     As Krendler comes over and hovers over her shoulder, it's all
     she can do to keep herself from slugging him.

                          STARLING
               Has it been tested for prints?

                          NOONAN
               No prints on it.  None on the last one.

                          STARLING
               Handwriting (analysis) - ?

                          KRENDLER
                   (before Noonan can answer)
               Did you ever think, Clarice, why the
               Philistines don't understand you?  It's
               because you're the answer to Samson's
               riddle:  You are the honey in the lion.
               Sounds like him to me.

                          STARLING
               Do you mean, Mr. Krendler, like a
               homosexual?

                          KRENDLER
               Like a nut with a crush.

     Noonan, not a bad guy, chooses his next words carefully -

                          NOONAN
               Clarice, I'm placing you on
               administrative leave until Document
               Analysis tells me, unequivocally, a
               mistake's been made.  In the meantime
               you'll remain eligible for insurance and
               medical benefits.
               Please surrender your weapons and
               identification to Agent Pearsall.

     Looking steadily at Krendler, Starling takes out her .45,
     drops the clip into her hand, shucks the round out of the
     pistol's chamber and sets it all down on the desk.  As she
     places her ID next to it, Pearsall asks her sadly -

                          PEARSALL
               Backup sidearm?

                          STARLING
               Locked in my car.

                          PEARSALL
               Other tactical equipment?

                          STARLING
               Helmet and vest.

                          NOONAN
                   (to the marshal)
               You'll retrieve those when you escort
               Miss Starling from the building.

     The marshal comes toward her.

                          STARLING
               I want to say something.  I think I'm
               entitled.

                          NOONAN
               Go ahead.

                          STARLING
               I think Mr. Mason Verger is trying to
               capture Dr. Lecter himself for the
               purpose of personal revenge.  I think Mr.
               Krendler is in collusion with him and
               wants the FBI'S effort against Dr. Lecter
               to work for Mr. Verger.  I think Mr.
               Krendler is being paid to do this.

                          KRENDLER
               It's a good thing you're not sworn here
               today.

                          STARLING
               Swear me!  You swear, too!

                          NOONAN
               Starling.  If the evidence is lacking,
               you'll be entitled to full reinstatement
               without prejudice - if you don't do - or
               say - something in the meantime that
               would make that impossible.

     Starling just keeps staring at Krendler as she gathers her
     Nagra and purse.  Finally, she glances over to her boss and
     friend, Pearsall, who mouths -

                          PEARSALL
               Sorry, Starling.

     She lets the marshal lead her from the room.

     INT. DEPARTMENT STORE - DAY

     Lecter, clutching a shopping bag, stands in the electronics
     department before a wall of television sets all tuned to the
     same channel, local news, a talking head with an inset of a
     photograph of Starling.

                          TALKING HEAD
               - relieved of field duty pending an
               internal investigation into the charges.
               Starling, a 7-year vetern on the Bureau
               began her career with an assignment to
               interview lethal madman, Hannibal Lecter -

                          LECTER
               - Doctor -

                          SALES CLERK
               May I help you, sir?

     Lecter glances to the young sales clerk, a teenager with a
     name tag.

                          LECTER
               I was looking for some good steak knives,
               Toby, but I'm afraid I got distracted.

                          SALES CLERK
               Kitchenware, right over there.

                          LECTER
               Thank you.

     The clerk walks away.  Lecter glances back to the TVs to see
     that a black and white inset photograph of himself has been
     added to the one of Starling.

                          TALKING HEAD
               - receiving information from him which
               led to killer Jame Gumb and the release
               of his hostage Catherine Martin, daughter
               of the former U.S. Senator from
               Tennessee.

     Lecter glances over to "Toby," who is busy pointing out to
     a customer the features of various VCRs, his back to the
     screens.  Footage of Krendler appears on them -

                          KRENDLER ON TV
               FBI and the Justice Department are
               looking carefully into the charges, and
               yes, they are serious.  But I want to say
               this:  Starling's one of the best agents
               we have and having known her for a number
               of years now, I would be very surprised
               if the accusations turn out to be true.
               It's much too soon to condemn her.

     Lecter smiles at Krendler's image.  He always smiles upon
     finding himself in the presence of bad liars.

     INT. STARLING'S HOUSE - NIGHT

     Silent.  Still.  Then the lock turning in the front door.
     It opens.  Starling, looking weary, carries in a cardboard
     box, her things from her desk at "the office," no bigger than
     Brigham's was.  As she passes us -

     Later.  Laundry room.  Absently dropping clothes in a
     washing machine filling with water, she then slides down to
     the floor in despair, her back against the warm enamel -

     Later.  Living room.  Pouring herself a neat Jack Daniels
     to the accompaniment of the first message on her answering
     machine, the voice sounding almost as tired as her -

                          CRAWFORD'S VOICE
               Hey.  It's Jack.  How you doing?  I'm
               sure it's not as bad as it looks.  I feel
               it's my fault.  I got you into all this.
               Call me.  Make me feel better.

     She carries the drink to the sofa, lies down, hasn't bothered
     to turn off any lights.  Drinks as the second message plays -

                          BARNEY'S VOICE
               It's Barney.  Remember me?  I got your
               number from, uh - I mean I know it's un-
               listed, but, I, ummm, I'm pretty good on
               the computer ...
               - save a few bucks on my phone bill,
               don't arrest me -
                   (she smiles; closes her eyes)
               I'm sorry, uh - about what happened to
               you.  I feel bad.  For you.  I was, umm,
               wondering if you might want to call me if
               you get the chance - 555-7026.
                   (in a firmer tone:)
               I think she's nice.  She's always been
               nice to me.  Polite.  Don't you think?

     Tight on Starling's cassette deck - the spindles turning
     the tape inside.  Stack of other tapes she got from Barney
     lying next to it.

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               Do you know what a roller pigeon is,
               Barney?

     Starling is asleep on the sofa now.  Still in her clothes.

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               They climb high and fast, then roll
               over and fall just as fast toward the
               earth.  There are shallow rollers and
               deep rollers.  You can't breed two deep
               rollers, or their young will roll all the
               down, hit, and die.  Officer Starling is
               a deep roller, Barney.  We should hope
               one of her parents was not.

     The tape reaches its leader an stops.  The green power
     light stays on.  Then it goes off, then comes back on again:
     an electrical interruption that is quickly reestablished.

     INT. BASEMENT - STARLING'S HOUSE - SAME TIME

     A basement window slightly open.  A piece of insulated wire
     clipped to the alarm contacts.  A shadow of a figure floating
     away from it.

     The figure moves toward the stairs, passing a rusty bicycle
     hanging on the wall and some shooting trophies gathering dust
     on a shelf, and begins up the stairs.

     INT. STARLING'S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER

     The microwave oven's glowing reset numbers "88:88" are
     obsured a moment as the figure soundlessly passes.  Ice
     tumbles from the refrigerator's ice-maker into the bin.

     In the living room, Starling is still asleep, her empty
     glass resting on a wood coffee table.

     A digital desk clock blinks "00:00."  Tiny sounds echo in the
     dark house - the hum of the furnace, the whistle of a pant
     leg touching fabric on a chair, slick pages being turned ...
     a sigh.

     EXT. STARLING'S HOUSE - DAWN

     The basement window, closed now, reflecting the glow of
     sunrise.  Power lines against the red sky.  A pigeon sitting
     on the wire, calling out once.

     INT. STARLING'S HOUSE - DAWN

     Starling wakes in the same position she fell asleep.  In
     front of her is her empty glass.  Set down not on top of the
     wood as she left it, but on a thick magazine.

     She knows that's not right.  Sits up enough to see the
     cover of the magazine.  Italian Vogue.  Edge of a Post-It
     peeking out from the pages.  She uses the Post-It to turn
     to the marked page.  A glossy Prada advertisement for
     expensive - unsensible - shoes.

     He's been in her house.  Right here as she slept.  She's up
     fast, rushing to her bedroom.  The the closet.  Pulling down
     from the top shelf the box containing Brigham's guns and ID.
    
     She slams a clip into the .45.  As she's loading the little
     .38, the phone rings, startling her.  She stares at it on the
     night stand next to the alarm clock:  10:30 A.M.  It rings
     again.  She slowly crosses toward it.  Another ring.  She
     lifts the receiver.  Says nothing.  Hears nothing.  Until -

                          RECORDED VOICE
               If you're not receiveing frequent flyer
               miles on your credit card, you're missing
               out on -

     She hangs up.  Returns to loading the gun.  The cell phone
     on her hip rings, and a bullet falls to the floor.  She pulls
     the phone from its holster.  Answers it, again, by saying
     nothing.  Only listens.  Hears a little static.  Connection
     to another cell phone probably.  Then -

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               The power on that battery is low,
               Clarice.  I would've changed it, but I
               didn't want to wake you.  You're going to
               have to use the other one.  In the
               charger.  Hopefully the light on it is
               green by now.

     The charger is right in front of her on the dresser.  And the
     light on it is green - fully charged.

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               - because this is going to be a long
               call and I can't let you off because -
               even though you've been stripped of your
               duties, I know you won't abandon them,
               you'll try to put on a trace.  So we'll
               disconnect only long enough for you to
               exchange the battery in the phone for the
               one in the charger.  Shall we say - three
               seconds?  That should be enough.  You can
               change the clip on a .45 quicker than
               that.  So when I tell you to, disengage
               the dying battery.  That'll disconnect
               us.  I'll speed dial back.  If you've
               succeeded in your task in the allotted
               time - wonderful.  If not? Well maybe
               some other time.  Are you ready?

                          STARLING
               Yes.

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               Go.

     It looks like changing the clip in a gun - the low battery
     falling away from the body of the phone into her hand, the
     charged one slapped in its place in just over two seconds.
     She hits the power button.  The LCD display lights up and
     beeps.  The phone rings and she flips it open.

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               Very good.

                          STARLING
               Thank you.

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               Get in your car.

     She begins gathering the guns and holsters and ammo.

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               Oh, all right, bring the guns if you
               want.  But remember, if you get caught
               with a concealed, unlicensed firearm in
               the District of Columbia, the penalty
               is pretty stiff.

     INT. STARLING'S MUSTANG - MOVING - DAY

     She's in the far right lane of a highway.  Keeping just under
     the speed limit.  The cell phone rests atop the open ashtray.

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               The reason we're doing it like this,
               Clarice, is because I'd like to see you
               as we speak.  With your eyes open.  No,
               it doesn't excite me.  Yes, it pleases
               me.  You have very shapely feet.
               Call it out.

                          STARLING
               Exit 14-A.  Three hundred yards - two
               hundred - one hundred - fifty -

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               Take it.

     She veers onto the ramp without a signal.  A van, several
     lengths back, takes the exit, too.

     INT. UNION STATION - DAY

     Starling enters the huge, echoing interior of the station
     with a crush of travelers and Christmas shoppers.  She has
     the phone to her ear, and through it, can hear the sounds not
     dissimilar to those around her.

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               I thought, to begin, you might tell me
               how you're feeling.

                          STARLING
               About what?

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               The masters you serve and how they've
               treated you.  Your career, such as it is.
               Your life, Clarice.

     The place is not just trains, but also a mall of stores, many
     of them playing Christmas music.  Outside one of them, on the
     second tier, Lecter, cell phone to his ear, watches Starling
     trying to sort out the cacophony of sounds down below.

                          STARLING'S VOICE
               I thought we might talk about yours.

                          LECTER
               Mine?  What is there to say about mine?
               I'm happy.  Healthy.  A little nomadic at
               the moment but that'll soon change.  You,
               though.  You, I'm worried about.

     Carlo and Piero, without phones, have entered the building
     and brush past people as they scan its interior, looking for
     and eventually spotting Starling rising up an escalator.

                          STARLING
               I'm fine.

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               No, you're not.  You fell in love with
               the Bureau - with The Institution - only
               to discover, after giving it everything -
               that it doesn't love you back.  That it
               resents you, more than the husband and
               children you gave up to it ever would.

     Lecter is going down an escalator as Starling approaches
     where he was just moments ago, outside the Gap Kids store.

                          LECTER
               Why is that, do you think?  Why are you
               so resented?

                          STARLING'S VOICE
               Tell me.

                          LECTER
               Tell you?  Isn't it clear?  You serve
               the idea of order, Clarice - they don't.
               You believe in the oath you took - they
               don't.  You feel it's your duty to
               protect the sheep - they don't.  They
               don't like you because they're not like
               you.  They're weak and unruly and
               believe in nothing.

     She's lost him.  Peers down over the railing.  Listens to the
     background sounds in her phone.

                          STARLING
               Mason Verger wants to kill you, Dr.
               Lecter.  Turn yourself in to me and I
               promise no one will hurt you.

                          LECTER'S VOICE
               Will you stay with me in my prison cell?
               Hmmm?  I suppose it wouldn't be that much
               worse than yours.

     She hears a bell clanging.  Sees a Salvation Army "soldier"
     in the far distance below, his back to her, his arm moving up
     and down, but can't tell if it synchronizes with the sound in
     her phone.