"I know, Clarice," he said calmly, "I see them. And now you have a moral dilemma on your pretty hands. Do you continue your attempts to find me, knowing that doing so will lead them to me? Do you have enough belief in yourself to think that you can handle all of us, that you can arrest them and me, for the good of the bureau that spurned you? Things could get messy, Clarice. Just like Memphis."
Things had gotten very messy in Memphis. Lecter had killed a policeman, and escaped disguised as him, wearing the dead man's skin. He'd driven away in the ambulance that came to answer the call, left its crew dead, and abandoned the vehicle at the airport.
"What if I harmed them for you, Clarice? The ones that hurt you? I could make them scream their apologies to you. Could you accept that? Would it make everything alright in your world again? No, I suspect not. You would see yourself as an accomplice. My accomplice. No, that would not do, would it, Clarice? Forget that I even said it."
He pauses for a heartbeat, two. "I must be going now, Clarice, I have some shopping to do. Chin up. Merry Christmas, Clarice."