Hannibal by Thomas Harris

Author:Thomas Harris
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3, pdf
Tags: Fantasy - General, Hannibal (Fictitious character), Fugitives from justice, Horror, Government investigators, Revenge, Fiction - Fantasy, Fiction, Psychological, Fantasy, Harris, Suspense, Thomas - Prose & Criticism, General, Thrillers, Serial murderers, Lecter
ISBN: 9780385339483
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 2005-07-19T18:26:15.220000+00:00

Hannibal

Chapter 45

ONLY FAMILY remains in Mason's room, brother and sister.

Soft light and music. North African music, an oud and drums. Margot sits on the couch, head down, elbows on her knees. She might have been a hammer thrower resting, or a weight lifter resting in a gym after a workout. She breathes a little faster than Mason's respirator..The song ends and she rises, goes to his bedside. The eel pokes his head out of the hole in the artificial rock to see if his wavy silver sky might rain carp again tonight. Margot's raspy voice at its softest. “Are you awake?”

In a moment Mason was present behind his everopen eye. “Is it time to talk about - a hiss of breath - what Margot wants? Sit here on Santa's knee.”

“You know what I want.”

“Tell me.”

“Judy and I want to have a baby. We want to have a Verger baby, our own baby.”

“Why don't you buy a Chinese baby? They're cheaper than shoats.”

“It's a good thing to do. We might do that too.”

“What does Papa's will say . . . To an heir, confirmed as my descendent in the Cellmark Laboratory or its equivalent by DNA testing, my estate entire upon the passing of my beloved son, Mason. Beloved son, Mason, that's me. In the absence of an heir, the sole beneficiary shall be the Southern Baptist Convention with specific clauses concerning Baylor University at Waco, Texas. You really pissed Papa off with that muffdiving, Margot.”

“You may not believe this, Mason, but it's not the money - well, it is a little bit, but don't you want an heir? It would be your heir too, Mason.”

“Why don't you find a nice fellow and give him a little nooky, Margot? It's not like you don't know how.”

The Moroccan music is building again, the obsessive repetitions of the oud in her ear like anger.

"I've messed myself up, Mason. I shriveled my ovaries with all the stuff I took. And I want Judy to be part of it. She wants to be the birth mother. Mason, you said if I helped you - you promised me some sperm.

Mason's spidery fingers gestured. “Help yourself. If it's still there.”

“Mason, there's every chance that you still have viable sperm, and we could arrange to harvest it painlessly-”

“Harvesting my viable sperm? Sounds like you've been talking to somebody.”

“Just the fertility clinic, it's confidential.”

Margot's face softened, even in the cold light of the aquarium.

“We could be really good to a child, Mason, we've been to parenting classes, Judy comes from a big, tolerant family and there's a support group of women parents.”

“You used to be able to make me come when we were kids, Margot, Made me shoot like a beltfed mortar. And pretty damn fast too.”

“You hurt me when I was little, Mason. You hurt me and you dislocated my elbow making me do the other - I still can't curl more than eighty pounds with my left arm.”

“Well, you wouldn't take the chocolate. I said we'll talk about it, Little.

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