The Living Death (6 page)

"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.

'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.

"So then we stay here," she said, getting up and walking to the window. "See, we have a lovely view of the bay and the moon. It is perfect."

Indeed it was. I was enjoying a lovely view of Amoretta. The silk robe was very light and outlined her legs in perfect silhouette as she stood by the window.

"Is there anything wrong in. your fixing us a drink?" she asked, her tone dancing on the edge of sarcasm.

"Nothing at all," I said. "I have bourbon. Ever had it?"

She shook her head as I made two good bourbon and waters.

She sipped hers, thoughtfully at first, and then with honest relish.

"This bourbon, it is like you," Amoretta said. "Direct, strong… how you say, no-nonsense."

Amoretta was pretty no-nonsense herself. I took off my jacket, stashed Wilhelmina in the side pocket and watched her fiddle with the hotel radio. She picked up a pretty good all-night station from Genoa and began to move sinuously to the music. She came into my arms and we began to dance. I could feel the firm fullness of her figure through the thin robe. She moved in close, rubbing her breasts against my chest. I was just starting to wonder about how far she would go when there was a knock on the door. Just to play safe, I retrieved the Luger from my jacket pocket before walking to the door. Actually, I thought it was probably someone complaining about the sound of the radio. I opened the door and then closed my eyes for a long minute. The tall, regal figure in the white silk dress, auburn hair falling softly to frame her classic features, said one word. She couldn't have picked a better one!

"Surprise!"

I stood still as she walked past me into the room. "Your cable was so thoughtful that I decided to come down and surprise you. It was simple to check the hotels here. After all, it's not…"

She broke off her entrance and her sentence at the same instant. I didn't turn around. I didn't need to. I could see her focusing on Amoretta in her lounging robe, drink in hand. It took her even less time to explode this time and I braced for what I knew would come. It came, a roundhouse swing that landed with full force. My cheek hadn't really begun to sting before she was out in the hall.

"Denny, wait!" I called.

"You don't waste a minute, do you?" she snapped back, her eyes wintry.

"I can explain" I said.

"Hah!" she snorted. "Explain! You probably haw explanations filed away by number. Excuse 12D, Explanation 7B, Apology 16FI!"

"Will you listen to me?" I called after her, but the only answer was the click of her heels as she stalked away. Once again, I knew what I wanted to do and what I had to do. I slammed the door shut angrily.

"I have caused you trouble," Amoretta said, and there was honest concern in her eyes, so very different from the sly triumph that little bitch Vicky had worn. I forced myself to smile at her and shrugged.

"Not really," I answered. "It wasn't your fault." I poured myself another bourbon and found her beside me, holding her empty glass up. She joined me in downing the bourbon and I poured another for each of us.