Nick Carter - The Living Death

'But this is the place for it, the time for it and the weather for it," she said logically. "Unless perhaps it is me you do not care to go with."

She threw in the last sentence with her lower lip forming the slight pout I'd first noticed at the service station. It was a typically female ploy and an old one. I wasn't going to go for it.

"You know better than that," I told her. The pout went away at once and she gazed seriously up at me. God, those eyes were enough to make anyone forget home and mother.

"All right, I heard you explaining everything to Zio Enrico," she said. "But there must be some time we can see each other. To be here in Portofino with a man like you and spend it alone would be more than a waste. It would be a sin."

'My sentiments exactly in regard to you, Amoretta," I agreed. "Let me work on it. Maybe something will turn up."

Amoretta turned away slowly, her eyes telling me that I'd better work on it. I watched her walk down the hall, slowly, her hips undulating with each step. I had to hold myself back from going out after her, grabbing that soft, seductive rear and dragging her back into the room. I hoped Hawk appreciated the sacrifices I made in the line of duty.

Letting Amoretta walk away was not all. By the end of the afternoon I'd attended three seminars with Professor Caldone, and I had scientific papers coming out of my ears on everything from the Interaction of Enzymes in Globular Disturbances to Reproduction Studies of the Hydroids. I never knew anything concerning sex could be so damned dull. But I also met a good number of the others attending the meeting. The list roughly broke down into four Norwegians, two Frenchmen, three Germans, four Russians, two Yugoslavs, three Chinese, four Americans and a scattering of other nationalities. There were a few I hadn't met attending other seminars being held concurrently. I also met Karl Krisst, a round, jovial-faced man, taller than his round shape indicated, with small, darting eyes that hinted at a shrewd, fast mind behind the surface blandness.

"Karl, here, is our most valuable man," Professor Caldone said as we were introduced. "As Secretary of the ISS his task is to arrange every one of our monthly meetings. He chooses the site, arranges for accommodations, plans the seminars and the dinners, sees that everyone gets an invitation and generally makes our get-togethers what they are."

Krisst beamed and squeezed the Professor's shoulder. He looked up at me with a mixture of interest and speculation in those small, quick eyes.

"I understand your accommodations were specially arranged, Mr. Carter," he said suavely. "But if there is anything I can do, anything you wish, please do not hesitate to call on me. Karl Krisst is always on call for the members and their guests."

Krisst had a faint accent I correctly diagnosed as Swiss and, had I met him in Chicago, I would have taken him for the typical convention glad-hander and back-slapper. He exchanged little asides with almost everyone, I'd noticed, was always smiling and seemingly pleased with everything. He slapped the professor on the back, gave my arm a squeeze and hurried off. I saw him often during the afternoon and at the dinner that night, hovering over everything, checking one thing or another, making quick shifts when necessary, tending to the personal whims of his distinguished assortment of guests. The eminent scientists plainly got a charge out of him and Karl Krisst did his job exceedingly well. He was just a type I never could warm to, the surface joviality always a hollow element to me. But, I knew, the world was full of Karl Krissts and they seemed necessary to this kind of thing. I had stuck with the professor like glue, carefully watching everything he ate and drank, and when the dinner was ended I found Karl Krisst at my elbow again.

"Do the meetings usually run like this one?" I asked.

"You mean this badly?" he returned, breaking into a storm of laughter at his little joke.

I went along with what I knew he wanted me to say. "I mean this well," I said. "Are the programs at each one similar to this?"

"Yes," he answered. "There are the general sessions comprised of the seminars, official dinners and luncheons and one main session with a formal speaker. Then the last day of the meeting is given over to relaxation. This is only a three-day meeting so the day after tomorrow we will all spend at the beach. Even the greatest intellectual likes the sun and the sea. A great mind and a lobster have that much in common." Again he convulsed at his witticism.

"You are also a member of the scientific community, I presume," I commented. He smiled, almost a little too sweetly.

"Heavens, no," he answered. "Not a professional member. I'm not smart enough to belong to the ISS. I'm perfectly content with my role as Official Secretary."

I hadn't asked him that and I wondered why he felt it necessary to throw it in. I beat him to a pat on the back and walked Professor Caldone back to his room. The elderly little man now showed the strain of the day.

"I'm tired, my boy," he said to me. "It is too bad you cannot go out for the night life here at the resort. Maybe, after I'm safely locked in for the night, you could slip away."

"Not a chance," I told him. "I'm going to be next door, making certain you're safe."

Signora Caldone admitted us to the room and I saw Amoretta seated in a chair, wearing a delicate pink lounging robe of silk. A magazine was in her lap and a pout on her lips.

"We were just going to bed if you hadn't come, Enrico," Signora Caldone said. "At least I was. Amoretta says she is too restless to sleep. She wants to stay up and read a while."

I suddenly realized something which I hadn't thought to check out "Amoretta isn't sleeping here," I said. "She has a room of her own, hasn't she?"

Signora Caldone turned in surprise. "Why, no, Mr. Carter," she said. "We planned to have her sleep here in the suite with us. The sofa makes into a bed, I understand."

"Sorry, but that's out," I ordered. "Only you, Signora, may stay alone with the Professor, unless I'm there."

Amoretta was on her feet, lower lip thrust out and her eyes flashing. "You are suspicious of me?" she flared angrily. "That is too much!" I shrugged. Actually I wasn't, but a certain kind of suspicion was ingrown with me. I didn't suspect her, while at the same time I did. I didn't really know a damn thing about her or the depth of her relationship to her uncle. I felt she was very fond of him. Yet I'd seen many a sweet young thing turn out to be a hardened agent. Personally, I felt she was trustworthy. Officially, she was as suspect as anyone else in Portofino. The question was how to answer Amoretta without causing the volcano inside her to explode.

"I cannot permit your staying here at night," I said. "I'd lose my job."

It seemed to strike the right note for the anger in those black eyes died out instantly. But my unwavering stand had brought on another problem, if you could call it that. I checked the hotel and there wasn't another room available, not a broom closet. There was only one solution and I was already thanking Hawk for the inflexibility of the instructions he'd given me.

"Signorita Amoretta can sleep in my room," I announced gallantly, making it sound like a sacrifice of truly heroic proportions. "I'm used to sleeping in a chair."

The professor and his wife protested my "sacrifice," both grateful and suspicious of my selflessness, and a slow smile flitted across Amoretta's face. She was up and getting her bag. While she did so, I hung one of Tom Dettinger's little devices on the door of the professor's suite. It was a silent alarm that went off when the lock was opened, transmitting a radio signal to a live alarm in my room. The windows were all properly locked and after rigging the device, Amoretta joined me in going back to my adjoining room where I locked the door between the suites. Looking as sly as a Cheshire cat, she draped herself over the sofa. I decided to set her right at once about our going out for the evening. She pouted for a moment and then brightened at once.