in the condemned cell, separated by a corridor from the other cells on a second-floor tier in the first building of LaSante.
The din of the crowded prison reached his cell as a wash of murmurings and cries and clangs, but he could hear the blows of Monsieur Paris' mallet as the assembly proceeded on the floor below.
LouisFerrat was a slender man, with dark hair, newly cropped off his neck and the back of his head. The hair on top was left long, to provide Monsieur Paris' assistant a better grip than Louis' small ears would provide.
Ferratsat on his cot in combination underwear, rubbing between his thumb and fingers a cross on a chain about his neck. His shirt and pants were carefully arranged on a chair, as though a person had been seated there and evaporated out of the clothing. The shoes were side by side beneath the pants cuffs. The clothing reclined in the chair in the anatomical position. Ferrat heard Hannibal but he did not look up.
"Monsieur LouisFerrat, good afternoon," Hannibal said.
"Monsieur Ferrat has stepped away from his cell,"Ferrat said. "I represent him. What do you want?"
Hannibal took in the clothing without moving his eyes. "I want to ask him to make a gift of his body to the medical school, for science. It will be treated with great respect."
"You'll take his body anyway. Drag it away."
"I can't and I wouldn't take his body without his permission. Or ever drag it."
"Ah, here is my client now," Ferrat said. He turned away from Hannibal and conferred quietly with the clothing as though it had just walked into the cell and seated itself in the chair. Ferrat returned to the bars.
"He wants to know why should he give it to you?"
"Fifteen thousand francs for his relatives."
Ferratturned to the clothing and then back to Hannibal. "MonsieurFerrat says, Fuck my relatives. They hold out their hand and I'll shit in it."Ferrat dropped his voice. "Forgive the language-he is distraught, and the gravity of the matter requires me to quote him exactly."
"I understand perfectly," Hannibal said. "Do you think he'd like to contribute the fee to a cause his family despises, would that be a satisfaction to him, Monsieur...?"
"You may call me Louis-Monsieur Ferrat and I share the same first name.
No. I believe he is adamant. Monsieur Ferrat lives somewhat apart from himself. He says he has very little influence on himself."
"I see. He is not alone in that."
"I hardly see how you understand anything, you're not much more than a chi-not much more than a schoolboy yourself."
"You might help me then. Each student at the medical school writes a personal letter of appreciation to the donor with whom he is involved.
Knowing MonsieurFerrat as you do, could you help me compose a letter of appreciation? Just in case he should decide favorably?"
Ferrat rubbed his face. His fingers appeared to have an extra set of knuckles where they had been broken and badly set years ago.
"Who would ever read it, other than MonsieurFerrat himself?"
"It would be posted at the school, if he wishes. All the faculty would see it, prominent and influential people. He could submit it to Le CanardEnchaine for publication."
"What sort of thing would you want to say?"
"I'd describe him as selfless, cite his contribution to science, to the French people, to medical advances that will help the oncoming generation of children."
"Never mind children. Leave children out."
Hannibal quickly wrote a salutation on his notepad. "Do you think this is sufficiently honorific?" He held it up high enough for LouisFerrat to have to look up at it, the better to gauge the length of his neck.
Not a very long neck. Unless Monsieur Paris got a good grip on his hair, there wouldn't be much left below the hyoid bone, useless for a frontal cervical triangle display.
"We mustn't neglect his patriotism," Ferrat said. "When Le Grand Charles broadcast from London, who responded? It was Ferrat at the barricades!
Vive la France!"
Hannibal watched as patriotic fervor swelled the artery in the traitorFerrat's forehead and caused the jugular and carotid to stand out in his neck-an eminentlyinjectable head.
"Yes, vive la France!" Hannibal said, redoubling his efforts:
"Our letter should emphasize that, though they call him Vichy, he was actually a hero of the Resistance, then?"
"Certainly."
"He saved downed airmen, I would imagine?"
"On a number of occasions."
"Performed the customary acts of sabotage?"
"Often, and without regard for his own safety."
"Tried to protect the Jews?"
Quarter-second hitch. "Heedless of risk to himself."
"Was tortured perhaps, he suffered broken fingers for the sake of France?"
"He