The Silence of the Lambs Page #9

CLARICE:

staring at this terrible thing, is pleased to find herself

quickly regaining control. She murmurs to herself.

CLARICE:

Well, Toto, we're not in Kansas

anymore.

CUT TO:

EXT. QUINN'S HOSPITAL - PARKING LOT - NIGHT (RAINING)

A loud clap of THUNDER, as a flash of LIGHTNING illuminates

the eerie towers and barred windows of the asylum.

MOVING ANGLE on Clarice as she climbs from her car, runs

through heavy rain towards the main entrance, where a guard

admits her.

CUT TO:

INT. DR. LECTER'S CELL AND CORRIDOR - NIGHT (DIM LIGHT)

On a noiseless TV screen, an evangelist rants, waving his

arms. Behind him, a swaying choir in gaudy robes.

CLARICE (O.S.)

It's an anagram, isn't it, Doctor?

PAN TO Clarice, with her wet hair plastered flat, sitting on

the corridor floor to one side of this TV, which has been

stationed so that Dr. Lecter cannot avoid seeing it.

CLARICE:

Hester Mofet... "The rest of me."

Miss The-Rest-of-Me... Meaning, you

rented that place.

HER POV:

he's lost in shadows; we can't see him. He doesn't respond.

CUTTING BETWEEN THEM

Clarice and the darkened call - as she tries again.

CLARICE:

You put those - things in there.

Paid for it in advance, ten years

ago... Why, Dr. Lecter?

The food carrier suddenly SWISHES out of the cell, making

her jump up. In its tray is a clean, folded white towel. She

hesitates, then crosses, takes this.

CLARICE:

Thank you.

She sits again, rubbing her wet hair. When he finally speaks,

he's on the floor, too - a deeper, hunching darkness in the

shadows, occasionally striped by the flickering TV light.

DR. LECTER

Your bleeding has stopped.

CLARICE:

How did -

(she stops herself)

It's nothing. A scratch.

DR. LECTER

Why don't you ask me about Buffalo

Bill?

CLARICE:

(surprised, a beat)

Why? Do you know something about

him?

DR. LECTER

I might if I saw the case file. You

could get that for me.

CLARICE:

Why don't you tell me about "Miss

Mofet?" You wanted me to find him.

Or do I have to wait for the lab?

DR. LECTER

(sighs)

His real name is Benjamin Raspail. A

former patient of mine, whose romantic

attachments ran to, shall we say,

the exotic...? I didn't kill him,

merely tucked him away. Very much as

I found him, in that ridiculous car,

in his own garage, after he's missed

three appointments. You'd have him

under "Missing Person" - which, in

poor Raspail's case, could hardly be

more true.

CLARICE:

If you didn't kill him, then who

did?

DR. LECTER

Who can say...? Best thing for him,

really. His therapy was going nowhere.

CLARICE:

Wouldn't it have been easier to just

leave him for the police to find?

DR. LECTER

And have them clomping about in my

life? Oh dear, no... At that time I

still had certain private amusements

of my own.

(beat)

How did you feel when you saw him,

Clarice? May I call you Clarice?

CLARICE:

Scared, at first. Then - exhilarated.

DR. LECTER

Ahhh... Why?

CLARICE:

Because you weren't wasting my time.

DR. LECTER

Do you have something you use, when

you need to get up your courage?

Memories, tableaux... scenes from

your early life?

CLARICE:

I don't know. Next time I'll have to

check.

DR. LECTER

Jack Crawford is helping your career,

isn't he? Apparently he likes you.

And you like him, too.

CLARICE:

I never thought about it.

DR. LECTER

Your first lie to me, Clarice. How

sad. Tell me - do you think Crawford

wants you, sexually? True, he's much

older, but - do you think he

visualizes... scenarios, exchanges...?

F***ing you?

CLARICE:

That doesn't interest me, Doctor.

And it's the sort of thing Miggs

would ask.

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