The letter having been x-rayed, slit on all sides and examined with nitrile gloves in a clean room for chemicals, spores or other contaminants, Starling finally read it.
Dear Clarice,
We live in a primitive time, don’t we, neither savage nor wise. Half measures are the curse of it. Any rational society would either kill me or give Ben Garrison a Pulitzer.
Thinking of you,
Hannibal
