FBI and justice personnel customarily are neat in their appearance, but these men were groomed for TV. Starling realized they must be appearing in the ceremonies downstairs with former President Bush later in the day. Otherwise she would have been summoned to the justice Department rather than the Hoover Building.

Krendler frowned at the sight of Jack Crawford at Starling's side.

"Mr. Crawford, I don't think your attendance is required for this procedure."

"I'm Special Agent Starling's immediate supervisor. My place is here."

"I don't think so," Krendler said. He turned to Noonan. "Clint Pearsall is her boss of record, she's just TDY with Crawford. I think Agent Starling should be questioned privately," he said. "If we need additional information, we can ask Section Chief Crawford to stand by where we can reach him."

Noonan nodded. "We certainly would welcome your input, Jack, after we've heard independent testimony by the by Special Agent Starling. Jack, I want you to stand by. If you want to make it the reading room of the library, make yourself comfortable, I'll call you."

Crawford got to his feet. "Director Noonan, may I say-"

"You may leave, is what you may do," Krendler said…Noonan got to his feet. "Hold it please, it's my meeting, Mr. Krendler, until I turn it over to you. Jack, you and I go way back. The gentleman from Justice is too recently appointed to understand that. You'll get to say your piece. Now leave us and let Starling talk for herself," Noonan said. He leaned to Krendler and said something in his ear that made his face turn red.

Crawford looked at Starling. All he could do was bitch himself up.

"Thank you for coming, sir," she said.

The marshal let Crawford out.

Hearing the door click shut behind her, Starling straightened her spine and faced the men alone.

From there the proceeding went forward with the dispatch of an eighteenth- century amputation.

Noonan was the highest FBI authority in the room, but the Inspector General could overrule him, and the inspector apparently had sent Krendler as his plenipotentiary.

Noonan picked up the file before him. "Would you identify yourself, please, for the record?"

"Special Agent Clarice Starling. Is there a record, Director Noonan? I'd be glad if there was."

When he did not answer, she said, "Do you mind if I tape the proceedings?"

She took a tough little Nagra tape recorder from her purse.

Krendler spoke up. "Ordinarily this sort of preliminary meeting would be in the Inspector General's office at Justice. We're doing it here because it's to everybody's convenience with the ceremony today, but the IG rules apply. This is a matter of some diplomatic sensitivity. No tape."

"Tell her the charges, Mr. Krendler," Noonan said. "Agent Starling, you stand accused of unlawful disclosure of sensitive material to a fugitive felon," Krendler said, his face under careful control. "Specifically you are accused of placing this advertisement in two Italian newspapers warning the fugitive Hannibal Lecter that he was in danger of being captured."

The marshal brought Starling a page of smudged newsprint from La Nazione. She turned it to the window to read the circled material: A. A. Aaron-Turn yourself in to the nearest authorities, enemies are close. Hannah.

"How do you respond?"

"I didn't do it. I never saw this before."

"How do you account for the fact that the letter uses code name `Hannah' known only to Dr Hannibal Lecter and this Bureau? The code name Lecter asked you to use?"

"I don't know. Who found this?"

"The Document Service at Langley happened to see it in the course of translating La Nazione's coverage on Lecter. " "If the code is a secret within.the Bureau, how did Document Service at Langley recognize it in the paper? CIA runs Document Service. Let's ask them who brought `Hannah' to their attention."

"I'm sure the translator was familiar with the case file."

"That familiar? I doubt it. Let's ask him who suggested he watch out for it. How would I have known Dr Lecter was in Florence?"

"You're the one who found the computer query from the Questura in Florence to the Lecter VICAP file," Krendler said. "The query came several days prior to the Pazzi murder. We don't know when you discovered it. Why else would the Questura in Florence be asking about Lecter?"

"What possible reason would I have to warn him? Director Noonan, why is this a matter for the IG? I'm prepared to take a polygraph examination anytime. Wheel it in here."

"The Italians registered a diplomatic protest over the attempted warning of a known felon in their country," Noonan said. He indicated the red-haired man beside him. "This is Mr. Montenegro from the Italian Embassy."

"Good morning, sir. And the Italians found out how?"

Starling said. "Not from Langley."

"The diplomatic beef puts the ball in our court," Krendler said before Montenegro could open his mouth. "We want this cleaned up to the satisfaction of the Italian authorities, and to my satisfaction and that of the IG, and we want it PDQ. It's better for everybody if we look at all the facts together. What is it with you and Dr Lecter, Ms Starling?"

"I interrogated Dr Lecter several times on the orders of Section Chief Crawford. Since Dr Lecter's escape I've had two letters from him in seven years. You have both of them," Starling said.

"Actually, we have more," Krendler said. "We got this yesterday. What else you might have received, we don't know."

He reached behind him to get a cardboard box, much stamped and much battered by the mails.

Krendler pretended to enjoy the fragrances coming from the box. He indicated the shipping label with his finger, not bothering to show Starling. "Addressed to you at your home in Arlington, Special Agent Starling. Mr. Montenegro, would you tell us what these items are?"

The Italian diplomat poked through the tissue-wrapped items, his cufflinks winking.

"Yes, this are lotions, sapone di mandorle, the famous almond soap of Santa Maria Novella in Florence, from the Farmacia there, and some perfumes. The sort of thing people are giving when they felt in love."

"These have been scanned for toxins and irritants, right, Clint?"

Noonan asked Starling's former supervisor.

Pearsall looked ashamed. "Yes," he said. "There's nothing wrong with them."."A gift of love," Krendler said with some satisfaction. "Now we have the mash note."

He unfolded the sheet of parchment from the box and held it up, revealing the tabloid picture of Starling's face with the winged body of a lioness. He turned the sheet to read Dr Lecter's copperplate script: "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."

"Il miele dentro la leonessa, that's nice," Montenegro said, filing it away for his own use at a later time.

"It's what?" Krendler said.

The Italian waved the question away, seeing that Krendler would never hear the music in Dr Lecter's metaphor, nor feel its tactile evocations anywhere else.

"The Inspector General wants to take it from here, because of the international ramifications," Krendler said. "Which way it will go, administrative charges or criminal, depends on what we find out in our ongoing probe. If it goes criminal, Special Agent Starling, it'll be turned over to the Public Integrity Section of the Justice Department, and PIS will take it to trial. You'll be informed in plenty of time to prepare. Director Noonan…"

Noonan took a deep breath and swung the axe. "Clarice Starling, I'm placing you on administrative leave until such time as this matter is adjudicated. You will surrender weapons and FBI identification. Your access is revoked to all but public federal facilities. You will be escorted from the building. Please surrender your sidearms and ID now to Special Agent Pearsall. Come."