BRIGHAM (O.S.)
Okay, people, good exercise...

Clarice relaxes, lowering her gun. The lights brighten.

PULLING BACK -

we see that we're in some sort of auditorium, with the "hotel
room" and its "corridor" built as a training set. JOHN BRIGHAM
walks onto this set, thumbing a stopwatch. Mid-40's, ex-Marine.
His T-shirt's lettering says "Firearms Instructor / FBI Academy."

BRIGHAM (contd.)
Starling's reaction time was excellent.
Let's break. Critique in five.

A class of about forty young FBI trainees, of both sexes, be-
gins to rise from their seats, mingling and chatting.

CLARICE

nods amiably to the "Suspect", then gives her "Hostage" a hand
up. It's ARDELIA MAPP, her roommate. Her broad, clever face
breaks into a big smile, as they both remove ear plugs. Clarice's
voice has just a soft trace of southern accent.

ARDELIA
Damn, Clarice, how'd you make me?

CLARICE
(indicating her gun)
Never cock. Just squeeze.

ARDELIA
(grins)
I love it when you talk dirty.

As Brigham joins them, Clarice can't resist a star pupil's little
smile of pride. He frowns good-naturedly.

BRIGHAM
What're you laughin' at, Junior G-Man?
She got off four rounds to your two.

He takes out a steel-coiled grip flexer, drops it onto her palm.

BRIGHAM (contd.)
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 RAY CAMPBELL

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."

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