Nick Carter - The Living Death

What really made the difference about this affair was that Hawk and I usually could indulge in a fine exchange of thinly veiled jabs and banter. Neither of us felt like it this time. When Tom finished, he gave me a few routine protective devices to take along, and Hawk walked to the elevator with me.

"You'll be dealing with something completely unknown and frankly, rather horrible, Nick," he said. "Exercise as much personal caution as possible within the framework of duty."

"You mean I should be careful," I grinned. He coughed nervously. His essential concern broke through that mask every so often. I maintained my casual air. Anything else would have added to his embarrassment.

"I'll watch it," I told him. "I'm not so crazy about vegetables that I want to become one."

His eyes found a twinkle. "Really?" he said. "It seems to me that you're very fond of tomatoes."

I grinned. This was more like it. It gave me a good feeling, a lift I'd been missing.

The Alitalia flight put me down in Milan and from there I rented a car and drove south to Genoa. Portofino was still further south and I continued on without stopping. The ISS meeting was quartered at the Excelsior and a room had been arranged for me adjoining Professor Caldone's quarters. I was to have the only key to both rooms. To add insurance, my instructions were to meet the Professor at a designated service station outside Portofino. He was driving up from Rome to meet me there. AXE had contacted him and thoroughly briefed him and he had agreed to cooperate fully. I turned the car in at Portofino and took an old and uncertain taxi to where I was to meet him.

I found Professor Caldone leaning against the hood of his car, a small Fiat sedan. He was short white-haired and genial with a small, round stomach from "too much pasta," as he put it, patting it fondly. He was immediately likable, a thoroughly unpretentious little man, I quickly concluded. He had an unexpected nugget for me when he announced that his wife and niece were with him to enjoy the Riveria while he attended the meetings. They had botl gone to the washroom in the little service station while he waited for me.

"Other than that," Professor Caldone said, "I am completely in your hands, Mr. Carter. I have been told I must do whatever you say."

I had to smile. He said it like a little boy. Only the twinkle in his small blue eyes set in the faintly cherubic face belied the quick mind at work. Signora Caldone emerged first, a short, square woman, a little more severe than her husband, but polite and pleasant enough.

"This is Signor Carter," he introduced me. "The American gentleman who I told you would be meeting us."

"Ah, si," the woman said. "The one you are supposed to obey." She turned to me and looked up somewhat skeptically.

"I hope you have more success with him than I have had in forty years," she said in mock seriousness.

"He will" the Professor replied before I could say anything. "He is a lot bigger than you, Mama."

I saw the girl approaching over Signora Caldone's shoulder and I tried not to stare. I'm afraid I didn't make it. To say she was beautiful would have been incomplete. To say she exuded sex would have been oversimplifying it. I saw black hair framing an olive-skinned face, falling loosely to her shoulders. Her lips, full and luscious, held the hint of a pout which disappeared when she saw me. Into those black-brown eyes I saw a dark fire suddenly leap as her eyes met mine. Full breasts billowed over the top of a white, scoop-necked peasant blouse, and thrust hard against the fabric. Wide hips emphasized a small waist, softly curving thighs and well-formed legs. I thought of what Byron had said about Italian women wearing their hearts on their lips. This kid wore a lot more than her heart on those full, red, lambent lips. She was sensuality incarnate. She throbbed. She was a smoldering volcano.

"This is Amoretta," the Professor said. Amoretta held out a hand that stayed in mine just a fraction longer than it need have, and I saw her eyes appreciatively examine my over six feet of hard-muscled body. I had a quick talk with myself. You, Nick Carter, I said, are here on a very sticky assignment. You can just ignore this luscious dish. Fat chance, I answered myself. She wouldn't get in the way of my work. They never did that, no matter what they looked like. But to ignore her would be equally impossible. Maybe, if I were lucky, some nice compromise would work itself out. Professor Caldone and his wife clambered into the front seat of the Fiat, leaving me to share the back with Amoretta. I felt the warmth of her thigh pressing lightly but definitely against my leg as she sat down beside me. There are advantages to the smaller European cars which their manufacturers should advertise more.

"I hope you do not mind Amoretta being along, Mr. Carter," the Professor said. "She is not happy to come with us but we didn't want to leave her alone in Rome." I could see why, I thought silently. "Amoretta is visiting us from her home in the hills of Calabria. She visits with us twice a year even though we bore her."

Amoretta answered quickly in Italian, her voice flaring in protest and I was happy to see that my Italian had remained good enough to understand.

"Zio Enrico," she said to her uncle. "That's not fair. You know I love visiting with you and Zia Theresa. It's these stuffy scientific meetings I hate."

"Even when they're at the Italian Riveria?" I cut in.

"Even there," she answered, giving me a long, sideways glance. "Though maybe this one will be better."

I read her right but I didn't say anything. She'd learn, soon enough, that I'd have less free time than Uncle Enrico. But I'd learned where that throbbing, undisguised sensuality came from — the hills of Calabria where the people wore all their emotions in the open, a region of passionate hates and loves where the old ways of life still held on. Amoretta, obviously, had more than a peasant girl's education, with knowledge and desires awakened of more worldly things.

The drive to Portofino was pleasant and short and I briefed the Professor on the basic procedures he would have to follow. They were simple enough but absolutely rigid. Special, bottled drinking water had been flown in and placed in his room. He was not to drink or eat anything during the formal luncheons and dinners that was not served to everyone. He was to take no pills of any kind. Most important, he was not to go anywhere without me or be alone with anyone unless I was there. I excepted Signora Caldone and he thanked me with that little twinkle in his eyes again. After we checked in, I went over the Professor's rooms, a living room and a bedroom, and checked out all the windows and door locks. There were afternoon seminars scheduled and the Professor wanted to rest a while first so I went into the adjoining room that was mine, closed the door and unpacked my one, small bag. I usually traveled light. I wasn't alone more than twenty minutes when there was a knock on the door and I found Amoretta standing there wearing a bikini of bright orange and a clear, plastic jacket over it. The bikini was valiantly clinging to her, fighting a lost cause for modesty. In the brief suit, I really got a look at her magnificent figure, an hour-glass come to life, glowing, olive skin, wide hips and magnificent thighs. She stood with her legs slightly apart, a stance that only emphasized the throbbing sensuality of her body. She took one step into the room, just enough so that her breasts were tantalizingly close to me. She carried a beach towel over one arm.

Tin going down to the beach," she said to me, making the statement an invitation.

"I'm not," I answered, and watched the surprise flare in her eyes. She gazed at me as though I were out of my mind. I half thought so, too.