The Living Death by Nick Carter Read Free Book Online Page A

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