Lisa stepped from the elevator and brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes for the tenth time. She was nervous, and it showed. She stepped from the elevator and walked up the hall. A secretary at a desk guarded the passage beyond. She glanced up at Lisa as she came in.

"I'm sorry," she said severely, "this is a private meeting." She meant it, too. At FBI headquarters, closed meetings were taken quite seriously. Lisa knew that on the secretary's desk was a green button. Pressing that button would summon several armed men. She smiled calmly and took out her ID.

"My name is on the list," she said. She handed her ID to the secretary. The secretary scanned it emotionlessly and handed it back to her.

"Go right in. They're expecting you. The meeting will be underway shortly."

Lisa took her ID back and proceeded down the hall to a closed wooden door. She opened it and entered a conference room. A large oaken table dominated the room. Seated at it were several older men in suits. They turned to watch her as she came in.

Lisa felt immediately self-conscious. She was the only woman in the room, and from the looks of it the only person under the age of forty. She could feel their eyes traveling up and down her body, sizing her up. Or perhaps thinking other thoughts.

Maybe I shouldn't have worn a skirt, she thought. No, this is an important meeting. Pants would have been bad. But damn I hate these pantyhose.

Don Quincy, the Section Chief for Behavioral Sciences, asked her her name. She gave it. He nodded and gestured to a seat. She sat down and pulled her chair close to the table. From her briefcase she took a notepad and pen.

Nervously, Lisa crossed her legs and flicked at the hair behind her ear. Now that she was safely seated, a few eyes went to Chief Quincy at the head of the table. She could feel a few others still on her. She could almost feel the questions behind them. Who is she? What is she doing here? Do those legs go all the way up? She fought the urge to try and pull down her skirt. Instead, she amused herself by flipping her pen in her hand.

"Let's get started," Chief Quincy said. "Please open your folders and turn to page 1." There was a plain manila folder in front of Lisa, just like at every other place at the table. Lisa grabbed hers and opened it. A copy of a case file was inside.

"As you know, two years ago there were a series of murders in Chicago. Three reporters for the National Tattler. Linked to these murders are the murders of four Chicago police officers, and one FBI agent. That agent was Tony Braxton, who was assigned to Behavioral Sciences."

Chief Quincy pressed a button on the projector attached to his laptop and asked if someone could dim the lights. Lisa volunteered silently, scurrying from her seat to the light switch. When she returned, there was a single word projected on the wall.

LECCOPY.

"Of the three Tattler reporters killed, two were killed in a copycat of Hannibal Lecter's murders years ago. Three, actually. The first murder was a duplicate of Dr. Lecter's sixth victim. The third murder was a dupe of the Pazzi murder in Florence." Chief Quincy cycled through pictures of the crime scenes as he spoke. Hard copies were included in each folder, providing loving detail to each atrocity. "The police officers murdered with him were arranged to duplicate Dr. Lecter's escape from custody in Memphis. Braxton was murdered, but simply dumped. He was not arranged to duplicate any known Lecter murder."

The picture changed to that of a large, elderly black man. His eyes were unnaturally far apart. He looked into the camera with an intelligent mien and bright, living eyes that overshone his gray hair.

"This is Barney, the orderly on duty when Dr. Lecter was in custody. He stated that he was kidnapped a week or so after the murders and held captive in Dr. Lecter's old cell."

The picture changed again, to a young woman with brown hair, high cheekbones, and maroon eyes. The background appeared to be a hospital bed. The young woman stared into the camera confusedly, as if not understanding where she was or who was taking her picture.

"The only suspect in these murders and the alleged kidnapping is this: Susana Alvarez. Date of birth March 5, 2004." Lisa tensed involuntarily. The birthdate was the same as her own. Chief Quincy continued. "Susana Alvarez entered the U.S. on July 12, 2025. The first murder took place three days later. There was an attempt to arrest her, even though the evidence was weak."

Chief Quincy grunted and cleared his throat. What he had to say next was not popular to hear around the halls of the FBI or Behavioral Sciences, for that matter.

"Behavioral Sciences correctly predicted that Susana Alvarez would visit her grandfather's grave on the anniversary of his death. They attempted to arrest her. She fled. Owing to poor planning on the part of my predecessor, former Section Chief Ardelia Mapp, the officers involved were not able to catch her. She was hit by a truck and severely injured in apprehension."

Lisa had heard these stories before. The botched arrest and subsequent escape of Susana Alvarez Lecter was considered one of the worst moments of the FBI's history.

"She was arrested and charged with the Barney kidnapping," Chief Quincy continued. "Since she was so severely injured, she was allowed to remain at the hospital with a guard on her door. Chief Mapp attempted to interrogate her and see if she would cop a deal on the LECCOPY murders. At that time…Susana Alvarez's mother showed up, overpowered Chief Mapp, and escaped with her daughter."

He sighed and pressed the button again. A standard DNA scan screen replaced the picture of the young girl.

"A DNA match was performed on a hair brought in by Agent Mapp," he said. "It is not clear where she got it and the chain of custody was not followed appropriately. However, it did confirm Susana Alvarez's parentage."

The picture changed to the mug shot of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a picture known far and wide across the FBI.

"Susana Alvarez is the daughter of escaped serial killer and cannibal Dr. Hannibal Lecter," Chief Quincy intoned. The picture changed to a young FBI agent's first ID picture. She had auburn hair. Lisa's stomach twisted into knots upon seeing it.

"And…former Special Agent St-," Chief Quincy continued. His eyes touched Lisa's for a moment. He took a deep breath and made himself finish. "Former Special Agent Clarice Starling."

That was the hard part. Now the surprise came.

"Two weeks ago, there was a murder in New York City. The victim's sweetbreads were removed by an expert hand. Hardly any forensic evidence to be found, just like the LECCOPY murders. However, a security camera in the apartment building recorded this."

The picture was blurry and fuzzy in the way all security cameras were. A hallway appeared in various shades of gray. A young woman walked past it, turned and looked at it, and waved. Although only in black in white, the picture was undoubtedly that of Susana Alvarez Lecter.

"She's back, gentlemen. Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. And this time we're going to get her." He asked Lisa quietly to turn on the lights. She did, causing some of the other men to stir. Whether they were looking her over or annoyed about the sudden brightness was not clear.

"I'd like everyone to go around the room and introduce themselves quickly. Most of you know each other, but not everyone does."

As each man introduced himself, Lisa dutifully scribbled his name down on her pad, added his title, and then promptly forgot both so that she could go to the next one. When her turn came, she licked her lips, took a deep breath and sighed.

"I have just graduated from the Academy," she said slowly. "My name is…,"

Oh fuck it, just say it, watch them squirm, she thought.

"I'm Special Agent Starling," she said. "Special Agent Lisa Starling." She took a moment to enjoy the looks of surprise on the faces of the other meeting attendees.

"I know what you're wondering and the answer is yes. We are related, although we never knew each other. But I am indeed Clarice Starling's first cousin, and Susana Alvarez Lecter's first cousin once removed."