The Silence of the Lambs Page #2

BRIGHAM:

(continuing)

One hundred reps, each hand, every

day. Now tidy up, the Section Chief

wants to see you.

He nods a direction, then moves off. Clarice, with her smile

finally fading, looks out into the auditorium.

SPECIAL AGENT JACK CRAWFORD

sits on the top step of the aisle, looking down at her. He

is 53, strongly built. He rises impassively, exits through

the back door. He carries a think manila envelope under one

arm.

Ardelia who is helping Clarice unbuckle her bullet-proof

vest, follows her worried gaze.

CLARICE:

What'd I do?

ARDELIA:

Stay cool. Just remember to call him

"God."

CUT TO:

EXT. FBI ACADEMY GROUNDS, QUANTICO, VIRGINIA - DAY

Crawford is watching a group of trainees on the firing range,

as Clarice joins him. He looks tired, haunted. Between master

and student, we sense a subtle, muted tug of sexuality.

CRAWFORD:

Starling, Clarice M., good morning.

CLARICE:

Good morning, Mr. Crawford.

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?

Rate this script:4.0 / 1 vote