The Silence of the Lambs Page #2

CRAWFORD:

Your instructors tell me you're doing

well. Top quarter of the class.

CLARICE:

I hope so. They haven't posted

anything.

CRAWFORD:

A job's come up and I thought about

you. Not really a job, more of - an

interesting errand. Walk me to my

car, Starling.

They begin to cross the academy grounds. A group of trainees

jogs by, in matching sweats, following a p.e. coach.

CRAWFORD:

We're trying to interview all of the

serial killers now in custody, for a

psychobehavioral profile. Could be a

big help in unsolved cases. Most of

them have been happy to talk to us.

They have a compulsion to boast,

these people... Do you spook easily,

Starling?

CLARICE:

Not yet.

CRAWFORD:

You see, the one we want most refuses

to cooperate. I want you to go after

him again today, in the asylum.

CLARICE:

Who's the subject?

CRAWFORD:

The psychiatrist - Dr. Hannibal

Lecter.

Clarice stops walking, goes very still. A beat.

CLARICE:

The cannibal...

Crawford doesn't respond, except to study her face.

CLARICE:

Yes, well... Okay, right. I'm glad

for the chance, sir, but - why me?

CRAWFORD:

You're qualified and available. And

frankly, I can't spare a real agent

right now.

He walks on again, at a faster clip. She hurried to keep up.

CRAWFORD:

I don't expect him to talk to you,

but I have to be able to say we

tried... Lecter was a brilliant

psychiatrist, and he knows all the

dodges.

(hands her the manila

envelope)

Dossier on him, copy of our

questionnaire, special ID for you...

If he won't talk, then I want straight

reporting. How's he look, how's his

cell look, what's he writing? The

Director himself will see your report,

over your own signature - if I decide

it's good enough. I want that by

0800 Wednesday, and keep this to

yourself.

They're reached his car. His driver stamps on a cigarette,

climbs in behind the wheel. BURROUGHS, his assistant, says

something into a walkie-talkie, then opens the back door.

But Crawford pulls her aside, a hand on her shoulder. His

intensity is scary.

CRAWFORD:

Now. I want your full attention,

Starling. Are you listening to me?

CLARICE:

Yes sir.

CRAWFORD:

Be very careful with Hannibal Lecter.

Dr. Chilton at the asylum will go

over the physical procedures used

with him. Do not deviate from them,

for any reason. You tell him nothing

personal, Starling. Believe me, you

don't want Hannibal Lecter inside

your head... Just do your job, but

never forget what he is.

CLARICE:

(a bit unnerved)

And what is that, sir?

CHILTON (V.O.)

Oh, he's a monster. A pure

psychopath...

CUT TO:

INT. CHILTON'S OFFICE - BALTIMORE STATE HOSPITAL FOR THE

CRIMINALLY INSANE - DAY

CLOSE ON an ID card held in a male hand. Clarice's photo,

official-looking graphics. It calls her a "Federal

Investigator."

CHILTON (O.S.)

It's so rare to capture one alive.

From a research point of view, Dr.

Lecter is our most prized asset...

DR. FREDERICK CHILTON looks up from her card. A smarmy little

peacock, behind a vast desk; he's conceived an instant,

hopeless letch for Clarice. He smiles, stroking her card

with his beloved gold pen.

CHILTON:

You know, we get a lot of detectives

here, but I must say, I can't ever

remember one so attractive...

NEW ANGLE - REVEALS CLARICE

now wearing a more feminine skirt suit. Hair neatly coiled,

elegant shoulder bag, briefcase. He has rudely left her

standing.

CHILTON:

Will you be in Baltimore overnight...?

Because this can be quite a fun town,

if you have the right guide.

Clarice tries, unsuccessfully, to hide her distaste for him.

CLARICE:

I'm sure it's a great town, Dr.

Chilton, but my instructions are to

talk to Lecter and report back this

afternoon.

CHILTON:

(pause, sourly)

I see.

(beat)

Let's make this quick, then. I'm

busy.

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