Chapter 105: Hannibal and Jigsaw

Clarice’s sedan moved steadily through the streets of Miami before eventually turning into a remote alley where several streetlights had stopped working long ago. She parked beside a row of neglected buildings and shut off the engine, allowing the surrounding silence to settle around them. “This is it,” she said, looking toward an inconspicuous three-story structure whose peeling paint and dusty windows made it appear no different from the abandoned properties beside it.

Axel Vance followed Clarice Starling to a heavy iron door set into the front of the building. Instead of knocking normally, Clarice used a brief coded pattern and then stepped back to wait. Several minutes passed without a response, and Axel had almost decided the building was empty when a narrow observation slot slid open and a pair of eyes studied them from the darkness.

The slot closed again, and a moment later the door opened just wide enough to admit them. A lean woman wearing stained work overalls stood on the other side, her face completely hidden behind a dirty pig mask. She said nothing, merely stepped aside and motioned for them to enter before shutting the iron door behind them.

The hallway beyond was dimly illuminated by a few weak emergency lights. The pig-masked woman walked ahead without speaking, her footsteps echoing through the nearly empty building as Axel and Clarice followed her upstairs. When they reached the second floor, Axel raised an eyebrow at what waited beyond the stairwell.

The entire level had been opened into one large warehouse-like space. Twenty or thirty men and women stood scattered throughout the room, each wearing some kind of animal mask—wolves, rabbits, crows, foxes, and several Axel could not immediately identify. Their quiet conversations stopped the moment he entered, and dozens of hidden gazes turned toward him with a mixture of suspicion, curiosity, and carefully concealed fear.

Axel looked over the room without reacting. Most of the people behind those masks appeared completely ordinary, and the way they held themselves suggested courage forced into place rather than natural confidence. Whatever this organization was, the majority of its members were not supernatural monsters or trained killers.

The pig-masked woman ignored the sudden silence and continued toward a smaller door at the far end of the room. She gave another coded knock, opened it, and stepped inside before speaking in a deliberately altered voice. “He’s here.”

Clarice entered first, and Axel followed her into a surprisingly small room furnished with little more than a table, several chairs, and piles of tools and blueprints along one wall. An elderly man sat with his back to them in a wheelchair, apparently examining something on the table. There was, however, another person waiting in the corner.

Axel stopped the moment he saw him.

A man in a perfectly tailored suit sat with one leg crossed over the other, relaxed as though he were waiting in a private club rather than inside a vigilante hideout. His expression carried the same calm intelligence and predatory amusement Axel remembered all too well.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

The neighboring inmate from Axel’s undercover prison assignment.

The cannibalistic psychiatrist who had been locked inside one of the most secure sections of the prison while somehow seeming more aware of everything around him than the guards themselves.

For the first time since entering the building, Axel was genuinely surprised.

Hannibal noticed immediately and smiled. “Good afternoon, Axel. We meet again rather sooner than I expected.” His voice was as composed as ever, as though their last encounter had happened in a restaurant instead of behind prison walls.

Clarice noticed Axel’s reaction and quietly explained, “Dr. Lecter has been acting as a special consultant.” Axel glanced at her, then back at Hannibal, and decided that special consultant was somehow exactly the kind of title Hannibal would acquire in a place like this.

Hannibal’s smile deepened as he looked toward the wheelchair-bound man. “Mr. Jigsaw, the man I recommended has finally arrived. I believe you’ll find that my assessment was accurate.”

The old man slowly turned his wheelchair around.

He looked badly ill, with deep lines across his face and unhealthy grayish skin that made his physical weakness impossible to ignore. His body appeared worn down by disease, but his eyes remained exceptionally sharp and calculating.

Axel recognized him almost immediately.

John Kramer.

Jigsaw.

Memories of the Saw films surfaced from Axel’s previous life, and suddenly the pig mask, the masked followers, and the strange organization made considerably more sense. Somehow, Hannibal Lecter and John Kramer were sitting in the same room, calmly waiting for him.

Jigsaw studied Axel for several seconds before speaking. His voice was quiet and slightly strained, but every word was deliberate. “Agent Starling has told me a great deal about you, Mr. Vance—a police officer with unusual abilities and very little patience for rules when those rules protect dangerous people.”

Axel said nothing.

John continued, “Originally, I intended to invite you into our organization. I even considered arranging a game for you, something that would allow you to understand how seriously we take the value of life and the consequences of wasting it.”

Clarice’s expression tightened slightly, but Hannibal remained visibly amused.

“Dr. Lecter changed my mind,” Jigsaw continued. “He told me you are not an avenger like the people gathered here. You are something different.”

Hannibal spoke from the corner with quiet satisfaction. “A hunter.”

Jigsaw nodded. “Your actions at the cannery confirmed that description. You entered a building filled with armed men and chose to disable them rather than kill them, even though killing would have been easier.”

His gaze remained fixed on Axel. “That kind of control cannot be explained by marksmanship alone. A game designed to teach you restraint would be meaningless because you already possess it when you decide restraint is necessary.”

Axel remained calm, but Clarice looked mildly surprised by the direction of the conversation.

Jigsaw rolled his wheelchair forward slightly. “Recruiting you would also be a mistake. We have no need for a weapon we cannot control, and forcing you into our structure would waste the very quality that makes you useful.”

The room fell quiet.

Axel finally spoke. “Did you bring me here just to tell me you don’t want me?”

“No,” John answered.

He moved a little closer.

“I changed the offer.”

Axel raised an eyebrow.

“From recruitment to cooperation.”

John rested both hands on the wheelchair arms. “We have a common enemy—the cult operating throughout Miami and beyond. They exploit suffering, destroy lives, and spread chaos without even pretending that their actions serve some greater appreciation of life.”

His tone remained calm, but there was unmistakable contempt beneath it. “They are currently one of our highest-priority targets, and I suspect they occupy a similar position on your list.”

Axel did not deny it.

John continued, “We have people throughout the city, sources of information, and individuals willing to take risks that ordinary law enforcement will not. What we lack is someone capable of confronting the supernatural threats surrounding this cult directly.”

Hannibal leaned back slightly in his chair. “Whereas Axel seems unusually talented in that particular field.”

John glanced toward him.

Hannibal smiled. “It is almost an ideal arrangement.”

Axel looked from Jigsaw to Hannibal and briefly considered the absurdity of the situation. Two of the most dangerous men he remembered from his previous life were sitting in front of him, solemnly proposing what sounded disturbingly close to a dark version of the Justice League. Miami was becoming stranger by the day.

Still, Axel did not agree immediately.

“I already found someone who can help locate them.”

John’s expression did not change.

Axel continued, “Doug can communicate with dogs across the city. The cult forced him to use that ability for surveillance, but now he’s willing to help us instead.”

Jigsaw shook his head slowly. “That may help you find people, but what happens after you find them?”

Axel narrowed his eyes.

“The men Doug can expose are likely only disposable pieces,” John said. “Lookouts, hired muscle, couriers, expendable believers—people pushed far enough forward that losing them does not threaten the real organization.”

He leaned slightly forward.

“You still know almost nothing about the people at the center.”

Axel remained silent.

Jigsaw continued in the same quiet voice. “You do not know their real names, their history, how long they have operated, or what they are ultimately trying to accomplish.”

His sharp eyes stayed fixed on Axel.

“And we can help you.”

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