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NINE
She was gone when his mental alarm clock awakened
him. It was an effort to get out of the bed, but the pain
ebbed by the time he had shaved and dressed.
Outside, there was almost a poised stillness about the
morning, as if it were waiting to explode.
The surface of the river, walled in by high-crowned
and shadowy timber, was unbroken and dark. Little
feathers of mist curled off the water to hang suspended
against the backdrop of the trees.
Carter paused by the car long enough to retrieve his
Luger and stiletto from the false bottom of the bag.
Wilhelmina, the Luger, he slid into his belt at the back.
The stiletto went into a sheath on his right leg.
This done, he moved on up to the main building.
White lights coming from the windows and doorway
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White lights coming rom t e w
ows arQoorway
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NICK CARTER
blended with the gray tones of dawn.
Loretta Ducaine, in shorts and a man's shirt, was fry-
ing eggs on the grill. She glanced up and smiled as the
screen door opened. The old man was taking some spin-
ning lures from the showcase to the left of the door.
There was another man, dressed in pressed khakis,
sitting at the end of the counter, eating. He looked to be
in his fifties, and Carter guessed he was the occupant of
the other lighted cabin he had seen the night before.
Beside him on the counter was a hat, its band decorated
with hooks and lures.
He nodded good morning to Carter and went right
back to his food.
"Good morning," Loretta said sweetly. "How are
the ribs?"
"Mending," Carter replied, returning her smile.
"Good medicine."
Her head tilted toward the old man at the case.
"Roscoe is fixing you up with some gear and a boat."
"Thanks."
"Food?"
could use some."
By the time she had whipped up some ham and eggs
and hash browns. the other man had finished and paid.
"Good luck, Jeff."
"Thanks, Loretta. See you tonight."
Carter relaxed. Evidently the other man was a local.
She brought the food. got a cup of coffee, and sat
beside him. Carter spread the map out beside his plate.
"Couple of questions?"
"Sure," she said. nodding.
"Last night, the beards, Mutt and Jeff .. e"
C'Mort and Jake," she chuckled.
"Yeah, Mort and Jake. They said a couple of guys
had come through here in suits and done a number up
the river."
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THE ANDROPOV FILE
"That's right."
101
$ 'And last night one of those same guys put this in my
car. Were they sure he was one of the earlier suits?"
"Damned sure. That's what got 'em so riled up."
He pointed to a spot on the map. "This is where I'm
going. Is there a place to Land downriver from here and
go overland like going in the back way?"
Loretta leaned close to the map, a finger tracing it in
concentration. "Yeah, right here." She explained the
terrain in great detail, and also explained the pitfalls of
the swamp going overland. Then she took a pencil and
filled out the map with roads and an extension of the
waterway beyond where he was originally directed to
land.
Roscoe passed around the counter carrying a small
outboard motor. "You about ready?"
"Five minutes," Carter said.
The old man went out the door, and Loretta placed
her hand on Carter's arm. "You'll be back tonight?"
Carter smiled. i' You can count on it."
He paid and went outside. The old man was waiting
for him by a boat with a 2 painted on the bow. Fishing
tackle and a can Of bait sat in the bottom of the boat.
The motor was already attached to the stern.
"Bass be bitin' up Lake Fargo way. If ya want cat,
stay to the river. "
"Thanks," Carter said, and climbed into the boat.
The motor started on the first pull, and he eased away
from the pier. About two hundred yards up, the river
narrowed, becoming a vast network of sloughs, chan-
nels. and swampy area in heavy timber, all connected by
waterways passable to outboard craft.
Carter kept the map on his knee and finally turned off
the main stream into a narrow inlet, staying close to the
weed beds and fallen trees. The sun was coming out full
now, but the air was still cool and fresh.
102
NICK CARTER
For over an hour he let the little five-horse motor
move him along the route on the map. It was nearly nine
o'clock when he spotted the huge fallen oak Loretta had
mentioned.
He cut the motor and came to rest beneath dense,



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Carter kept the mapon neeand finallyturn
the main stream into a narrow inlet, staying close to the
weed beds and fallen trees. The sun was coming out full
now, but the air was still cool and fresh.
102
NICK CARTER
For over an hour he let the little five-horse motor
move him along the route on the map. It was nearly nine
o'clock when he spotted the huge fallen oak Loretta had
mentioned.
He cut the motor and came to rest beneath dense,
overhanging foliage along the bank. No sound broke
the stillness. The channel, about thirty yards wide at
that point, materialized out of the timber a quarter mile
behind him and disappeared around another bend just
ahead.
Carter sat still for a moment, frowning at the map
without actually seeing it. The dirt road that Loretta
had penciled in dead-ended against the channel he was
in, near the old house.
That meant Tilkoff could have come in by car.
Two men, they had said. Why two? Could someone
else be defecting with Tilkoff? Hardly.
Loretta had said the shack was about a mile from the
spot where he now was.
Carter tied off the boat and slipped ashore. The trees
were like a thick blanket overhead and the ground was
swampy. He carefully watched the ridges as she had in-
structed, keeping his eye peeled for any change in color.
"Stay away from the darker green," she had warned
him. "It's kiwi or swamp grass. It looks solid. It isn't.
Step in it and you'll be up to your ass, or worse."
Going a mile took over two miles of zigzagging. By
the time he reached the dirt road, the sun was high and
he was sweating. He took off the light jacket and tied
the sleeves around his neck.
Without exposing himself, he moved through the
trees from the channel, the full mile to the place where it
met a wider, more traveled asphalt road that ran parallel
to the river.
Although there were several places a car could be hid-
den, he found them all empty.




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THE ANDROPOV FILE
103
Finally he rechecked his bearings and struck off
through the trees again for what he hoped would be the
inland side of the shack.
Catfish jumped and splashed in the black-green
waters of the bayou around him. Guessing that he was
close now, he moved slowly and quietly through the
humid mist that shrouded the moss-draped oaks and
gaunt cypress trees.
Then he saw it, a grubby one-room gray shack with
the shingles peeling off the roof.
Nobody was in sight. Carter moved ahead to the edge
of the trees, heat clamping on the back of his neck like a
giant fist. Even the insects had suddenly shut up in the
stifling humidity.
There was a walk up from the river with chest-high
weeds growing on both sides of it. All the windows of
the house were closed with wooden shutters. A pi-
rogue—a local canoe—rested on two sawhorses near the
rear door.
Carter filled his hand with the Luger, took a deep
breath, and stepped from the trees.
When nothing moved and there was no sound, he
moved toward the rear of the house. He walked around
the pirogue and approached the door. It was half open.
"Anybody here?"
Silence.
He moved up the steps until the barrel of the Luger
nudged the door open. He moved inside with the swing
of the door, and then slid quickly to one side against the
wall.
He squinted, willing his eyes to adjust to the dimness.
They were almost there when a figure, hands high in the
air, suddenly materialized and moved toward him out Of
the darkness.
"l am Sergei Tilkoff. There is no need for the gun,
Carter. As you can see, I am unarmed."
104
NICK CARTER
"Keep coming and keep your hands in the air,"
Carter growled. backing out into the sunlight.
The man followed. He was small-boned and dark*




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He squinte , WI Ing IS eyes to adjustethedimness.
They were almost there when a figure, hands high in the
air, suddenly materialized and moved toward him out Of
the darkness.
"l am Sergei Tilkoff. There is no need for the gun,
Carter. As you can see, I am unarmed."
104
NICK CARTER
"Keep coming and keep your hands in the air,"
Carter growled. backing out into the sunlight.
The man followed. He was small-boned and dark*
skinned. His black hair was too long and it glistened
with oil. combed straight back from a vee where it grew
low on his forehead. His lips were full and unpleasantly
red. His eyes were beady and nervous, and his nostrils
flared as he breathed.
"May I put my hands down now?"
"Soon. Turn around first. lean against the wall."
His blue jacket clung snugly to his sloping shoulde
and sunken chest, and his trousers were tight ove
plump hips.
Carter patted him down and found him clean.
"Okay, drop 'em."
Carter slid the Luger back into his belt and opened hi
cigarette case. "Okay, Tilkoff, let's talk."
The little man was all smiles as he came up with
lighter. It flamed and Carter bent his head.
Suddenly his nostrils filled with the fumes from th
flame. The cigarette fell from his lips and he felt a cold
ness grip his body.
The little man's image swam before his eyes. He stag
gered to the side, trying to get his arms to move, trying
to reach the Luger.
Nothing would work. As he turned, lurching agains
the wall of the house, Carter could feel the paralys•
flood his body.
And around the pirogue he saw them coming, a
man in jeans and a black sweater, and a beautifu
blonde.
They were both grinning at him.
The grins were the last thing Carter remembered as h
fell forward into the big man's arms.
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The steel legs of the cot were bolted to the floor. Th
THE ANDROPOV FILE
105
floor itself was cement. old and cracked in many places.
There was a smell of age, decay, and dampness.
The walls were yellow, weeping moisture, and there
were two windows. both barred. nie door was thick
wood, with a small, barred opening. It looked as though
it had recently been repaired. The hinges were shiny
new.
Carter rolled over on the cot and touched the wall. It
was damp and flakes of aged paint and whitewash came
away, dusting his body and the cot.
Somewhere a woman was speaking in a dry, husky
voice. The language was Russian.
"No. We want no incidents. All we want are the
answers .. ."
The voice faded, came back, and faded again.
Carter tried to rise. His muscles felt like rubber, or
lead, depending on how much he tried to move.
A setup. It was a setup and he had walked right into
it.
His head didn't ache, but he felt lethargic. He felt
as if he had to have more sleep. He knew he had been
gassed and then probably doped.
Slowly, his mind got more alert.
Someone walked by the door. stopped. "Major, he is
awake."
Carter recognized Tilkoff's voice. He swung himself
to a sitting position on the cot. He saw a face at the
barred opening. Then it moved away.
"He is sitting up. "
A key rasped in the opening. The door swung wide
and a woman entered.
She was blurred, but slowly, through concentration,
Carter got her into focus.
"Well, I'll be damned," he growled.
She was very beautiful. a big-boned, tall woman with
an oval face and a silken mass of warm, honey-blond
106
NICK CARTER
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NICK CARTER
hair that fell to her shoulders. It was an alarmingly
beautiful face, yet in her green eyes there was a look of
indefinable cruelty.
"Good morning. Mr. Carter."
"Morning?" His voice sounded as if it belonged to a
toad.
She moved closer. Now he could see her clearly. her
chic swamp attire consisting of a beige safari jacket.
skintight faded denim jeans. and waterproof boots.
"l am Major Anya Annamovna Chevoia."
"Good for you." Carter replied,
She was leaning over him now, the gleaming curtain
of her golden hair falling for•æard on her shoulders.
framing her perfect face. Her eyes were magnificent. a
vivid green-gold, large and lustrous. And ice cold.
"How do you feet?"
"Like shit."
He lunged for her throat. As casually as if she were
slapping a fly. her hand came up. centered on his face,
and pushed him, hard. The back of his head made a
thudding sound against the cement wall and she was
over him. Her knee was in his chest and her face was
inches from his.
Now he saw nothing but her eyes. Ihey were nare
rowed to angry slits. all at once giving her face an ugly
expression.
• •Listen and listen very carefully to what I have to
"Where am I . Siberia?"
"You are about ten miles from the old shack where
we gassed you. "
"Nice work. I actually thought Tilkoff was for real."
• 'He is." she replied. backing off so that Carter could
get his breath. "We don't want an incident. and we
don't want to start a tit-for-tat. body-for-body war be-
tween our agencies. "
"That's nice of you."
THE ANDROPOV HLE
107
"You will not be harmed. We merely want informa-
information that, in the long run, will serve
tion . . .
both sides."
She paused, waiting for Carter to reply. When he





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get his breath. "We don't want an incident. and we
don't want to start a tit-for-tat. body-for-body war be-
tween our agencies. "
"That's nice of you."
THE ANDROPOV HLE
107
"You will not be harmed. We merely want informa-
information that, in the long run, will serve
tion . . .
both sides."
She paused, waiting for Carter to reply. When he
didn't, she produced two cigarettes, lit them, and put
one between his lips.
' 'Several years ago you helped in the defection of a
woman named Nina Kovich." Again she paused. When
there was no response. she continued. "The woman
became Nina Cavetti. We knew her identity all the time
but chose to do nothing at least the First Directorate
chose to do nothing. Certain men, however, decided to
use her. Those men were traitors to the party."
"Good for them."
The whack across his face was like a rifle shot. It sent
Carter sprawling off the cot.
"I said you wouldn't be harmed," she spat. "I didn't
say you wouldn't be hurt. "
To Carter's surprise. she helped him back onto the
cot and lit a fresh cigarette to replace the one she had
smashed.
"Comrade Tiikoff, of course, lied about his defec-
tion. It was necessary to get you away from Washington
to a place where we could interrogate you quietly and
privately. "
"What about the part about Shalin, Gusenko, and
Leventov?"
"That was true."
" And the Andropov file?" Carter asked.
"Also true ... sad as it is."
She stood and began to pace. As she did, and talked,
Carter couldn't help thinking what a waste all that
beauty was on a KGB major.
"They stole the microfilm and got it out of the coun-
try. Nina Kovich's brother, Joseph Kadinskov, helped
them
Then Carter remembered. It all fell into place.
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NICK CARTER



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Then Carter remembered. It all fell into place.
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NICK CARTER
'.'How?" he asked, already knowing.
"We're not sure. We think the files were smuggled
out in a body. You helped Kadinskov and his sister
escape Shalin's assassins, did you not?"
Carter decided he could go that far. "Yeah, I did,
through Finland."
' 'We think Joseph Kadinskov knows the identity of
that body. We have been looking for him for nearly a
year and a half, to no avail. We must find him, Carter.
That is why we staged ail this."
Carter shook his head and mashed the cigarette out
against the wall. 'S Then I'm afraid both of us are out of
luck.
"What do you mean?' t
don't know where Nina and Joseph are. I'm sure
they have new identities now. and I don't know those
either."
"You're lying.
"Afraid not." He went on to explain the deaths of
the three agents in Finland. and how he had separated
from the brother and sister.
"Where were they set up for from Finland?"
"I don't know that, either. As far as I know, they
disappeared."
Any good agent is a good liar. Carter was no excep-
tion. But it is also a fact that a good agent can spot a lie.
Comrade Major Chevola was an excellent agent.
' 'We'll see, " she murmured. "Here."
She dropped the pack of cigarettes on the cot along
with a book of matches, and ieft.
An hour later, Sergei Tilkoff appeared with a tray of
food.
' 'I'm not hungry."
The man shrugged. "Then don't eat."
But Carter was hungry. He devoured the food down
to the last morsel of bread. Within minutes after finish-
ing, he knew the food had been drugged—not heavily,
THE ANDROPOV FILE
only with a tranquilizer to keep him tame.
109
It was another hour before they appeared again, all




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' 'I'm not hungry."
The man shrugged. "Then don't eat."
But Carter was hungry. He devoured the food down
to the last morsel of bread. Within minutes after finish-
ing, he knew the food had been drugged—not heavily,
THE ANDROPOV FILE
only with a tranquilizer to keep him tame.
109
It was another hour before they appeared again, all
three of them.
Major Chevola entered first. Her red lips were like a
sneering gash on her face, and her green eyes flashed.
She had shed the safari jacket, and her full breasts
filled her camp shirt to the bursting point. As she ape
proached the cot, her breathing increased.
And she carried a cotton-wrapped hypodermic needle
in her left hand.
Major Chevola pressed the stop button on the tape
recorder and leaned back with a sigh.
"Enough—it should be more than enough to find
Kadinskov if we move fast enough. Yevgeny
"Yes, Comrade Major?"
"Contact Rome at once that we are on the way. We
will need transportation the moment we arrive. You and
Pavel will come with me, Sergei?"
"Must I?" the swarthy little man asked, sweat cover•
ing his face.
"Yes, you must. The hypos are all prepared. Give
him one injection every twenty-four hours."
"But it has been two days. Surely someone is looking
for him by now."
"Probably," she replied. "And when they find him I
want him alive, Sergei. Make sure you keep up the in-
travenous feeding. "
"Da, Comrade Major."
"We will need forty-eight hours. Be sure you don't
abandon him until then."
"Da, Comrade Major."
His voice was only a whisper behind her as Major
Chevola left the old cinder-block building and walked to
the car where the two other agents were already waiting.
Behind her, in the old cell, Sergei Tilkoff lifted a bot-
tle to his lips and looked down at his charge.




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the car where the two other agents were already wal mg.
Behind her, in the old cell, Sergei Tilkoff lifted a bot-
tie to his lips and looked down at his charge.
110
NICK CARTER
Silently, he cursed Major Anya Chevola and Nick
Carter alike as he drank.
Forty-eight hours.
Two days.
It would be an eternity.




























TEN
Jn the sleepy little village of Marino di Pisa, thirty
miles north of Livorno on the west coast of Italy, night
had brought the cool ocean breezes. And on those
breezes wafted the smell of aromatic pasta from the tops
of a hundred ovens.
It was almost the dinner hour.
And in an apartment on the cliff of San Gordo above
the village, Luigi Corelli set down his aperitif and ach-
ingly pulled himself from his favorite chair.
He paused long enough to rub the constant pain from
his right leg. At the same time, he cursed the terrorist
jackals who had caused his early retirement by shooting
him. When the leg was mobile, he moved across the
room to a small wooden stand beside an enormous fish
tank.
112
111
NICK CARTER
This was his life now: his plump, loving wife, Rosa,
and the fish he loved to watch and care for.
Carefully he prepared the food and watched them
slither through the doors and windows of their under-
water castles. When it was ready, he sprinkled it liber-





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him. When the leg was mobile, he moved across the
room to a small wooden stand beside an enormous fish
tank.
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111
NICK CARTER
This was his life now: his plump, loving wife, Rosa,
and the fish he loved to watch and care for.
Carefully he prepared the food and watched them
slither through the doors and windows of their under-
water castles. When it was ready, he sprinkled it liber-
ally over the water.
He chuckled contentedly as he dropped each spoonful
in, taking delight in watching the fish dart about and
suck the food in greedily as it filtered down through the
water.
There was a buzz from the outside bell. Corelli lifted
shaggy black brows in surprise and took a stubby pipe
from his mouth. He was expecting no callers. Perhaps it
was Rosa. She was always forgetting her key when she
had to rush out to the market in the midst of preparing a
meal.
Another buzz. this time louder and more insistent.
' 'Momento, momento. "
Corelli sprinkled the last of the fish food into the
tank. He wiped the crumbs on his undershirt and limped
to the door. He pressed the button to release the outside
catch. and pressed his ear to the door.
When he heard the click of high heels on the tiled
floor, he assumed it was the pretty young woman,
Adriana, from next door. She also often forgot her key.
But then he knew it wasn't Adriana. The footsteps
stopped at his door. And there was a knock.
"Yes?"
There were two of them, a man and a woman.
The woman was a ravishing blonde, her hair in a tight
chignon that hardened her features but agreed with the
severe navy suit she wore.
The man was big, and wore a rumpled black suit,
white shirt, and dark tie. His features were square and
placid, as was the faint smile on his thick lips. Only th
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THE ANDROPOV FILE
113
menace, as was the silenced automatic in his right hand.
As one, they moved forward, the man curling a leg
around the door, closing it.
Corelli moved back a careful step or two without say-
ing anything. The blood was pulsing through his
temples, but he took a steady drag on his pipe and let
none of his inner alarm show through. He was an old-
timer who had survived more than his share by reacting
faster than most. Right now, his one definite reaction
was that the big man looked like a fellow who liked to
kill.
"Signore Luigi Corelli?" the woman asked.
"Sie What do you want?"
Are you alone, Signore Corelli?"
"Yes, my wife had to run to the market."
' 'We want to ask you a few questions, Signore Cor-
elli. That is all, I assure you." Her smile and her fea-
tures were almost angelic when she spoke. She turned
and whispered to her companion.
The big man nodded and centered the muzzle of the
gun on Corelli's stomach. He did not take his eyes from
Corelli's face as the woman went through the house,
checking every room. At last she returned.
' 'He is alone. Sit down, signore."
Stay calm, Corelli thought. Stay calm and find out
what they want.
S' Who are you?"
"That is not important. Sit!"
He bobbed his balding head and shuffled across the
room to an old rocking chair, his favorite.
The woman took a plastic identity card from her
purse and held it up. S 'You have worked with this man
in the past?"
Corelli glanced at the card.
"So?" He looked into the bowl of his pipe and poked
a forefinger in to tamp down the hot ashes.
114
NICK CARTER
"A few years ago you got papers of Italian citizen-
ship, passports, and work permits, at the request of
Nick Carter, for a brother and sister who were defecting



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purse and held it up. S 'You have worked with this man
in the past?"
Corelli glanced at the card.
"So?" He looked into the bowl of his pipe and poked
a forefinger in to tamp down the hot ashes.
114
NICK CARTER
"A few years ago you got papers of Italian citizen-
ship, passports, and work permits, at the request of
Nick Carter, for a brother and sister who were defecting
from the Soviet Union." The identity card went back
into her purse and two small photos took its place in
front of Corelli's face.
Corelli recognized them instantly, but he kept his face
a stone mask and said nothing.
"This is the man and woman, is it not?"
"I have done what you say so many times, for so
many people .. ." He shrugged as he let his words trail
off.
The woman stepped aside and the man took her
place. He thrust both hands into his trouser pockets and
rocked back on his heels. His eyes were slitted but his
face remained coolly impassive.
"We want their new names, Signore Corelli, the
names on the papers you got for them. And we want
their location. "
Still Corelli said nothing. He rocked placidly back
and forth in the old-fashioned chair, his fingers around
his pipe, his hands close to his belly.
"Names," Yevgeny hissed, and hit Corelli on the
back of the neck without warning.
Yevgeny was a bull of a man, his shoulders meaty and
powerful under his clothing. The blow slammed Corelli
to his knees on the floor.
Corelli clawed with both hands at Yevgeny's trousers,
trying to rise, but the big man gripped his fingers and
squeezed until the knuckles broke.
Corelli fell away with a groan of pain, and Yevgeny
kicked him savagely in the ribs. Before he hit the floor
the Russian hauled him back up with one hand and
punched him in the mouth, again and again.
When blood and teeth spewed from the Italian's
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spewea- trom—the- Ita a
mouth to Yevgeny's satisfaction, the big man flung him
THE ANDROPOV FILE
sprawling across the floor.
115
Anya Chevola stood calmly to the side, observing.
Yevgeny worked with speed, efficiency, and relish. But
after another ten minutes of ruthless sadism, she knew
that Corelli wasn't going to give them the information
they wanted.
They couldn't use drugs as they had on Carter. It
would take too much time.
She glanced calculatingly around the room, and noted
one whole wall lined with tanks of fish. She moved close
and watched the beautifully wrought Italian castles in-
side and the plump goldfish swimming lazily about.
"Yevgeny
"Bring him over here." The big man did as he was
told, and Anya Chevola leveled her icy green eyes on
him. "Signore Corelli, you are a foolish, idealistic man.
Nick Carter has already told us much of what we want
to know. It was he who gave us your name and the
means to find you. Why don't you tell us what else we
want to know?"
. I don't know anything . I swear," Corelli
replied through bruised lips.
g 'Pretty fish, Signore Corelli," she said.
"They are good friends, the fish," Corelli sputtered.
Anya reached one delicate hand into the nearest tank
while Luigi Corelli watched her through swelling eyes.
The fish weren't afraid of the woman's gently swirling
hand in the water. They were accustomed to Luigi Cor-
elli doing the same thing each day, even moving his
finger gently along their scaly sides as they swam.
'S What are you doing? Don't do that!" he cried.
She cupped one fish gently in her fingers without dif-
ficulty and pulled it dripping from the tank. Then she
turned so that Corelli could clearly see the flopping little
fish in her hand.
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NICK CARTER
"The names, Signore Corelli, and where did you





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"The names, Signore Corelli, and where did you
resettle them? "
"You are monsters, both of you!"
Major Anya Chevota calmly put the goldfish partially
in her mouth. Calmly, she bit the head off with one
crush of her jaws and started chewing on it.
Luigi Corelli screamed in pain and anger. He lunged
for her. Anya easily sidestepped his body and shoved
him into the tank. It tipped, crashed to the floor, and
fish and castles scattered everywhere.
The woman stepped forward and grabbed Corelli's
hair. She dragged him easily over the slick floor to
where one of the fish lay flopping on the rug. Then she
pushed his face close to the floor and ground the fish to
pulp under the heel of her shoe.
"This can end now, Signore Corelli, or it can con-
tinue. until all your fish are dead .
' 'You are beasts!" he gasped* interrupting her.
"They are defenseless little creatures!"
"True," she said, s 'But they do not feel, Signore Cor-
elli. Soon your wife will be here. She will feel, Signore
Corelli. I assure you, she will feel ... "
"You have no souls ."
"The names, signore, and the location."
He had lost and he knew it. He couldn't fight such
heartless beings. And his poor Rosa, she did not deserve
this.
He told them what they wanted to know.
Anya Chevola let his head drop to the floor. She dried
her hands on his shirt and turned to Yevgeny, leaning
her lips close to his ear.
"Wait for the wife. Then kill them both."
Adriana Saldo ran up the stairs, her dark hair flying
behind her.
It had worked. The old man, Luigi Corelli. had said
THE ANDROPOV FILE
117
he had the clout to make it work, and it had worked!
She had gotten the government job she had coveted
for so long. and she had the old man to thank for it.
Their door was open a crack, and water gushed from



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Adriana Saldo ran up the stairs, her dark hair flying
behind her.
It had worked. The old man, Luigi Corelli. had said
THE ANDROPOV FILE
117
he had the clout to make it work, and it had worked!
She had gotten the government job she had coveted
for so long. and she had the old man to thank for it.
Their door was open a crack, and water gushed from
beneath.
Odd. she thought, of all the buildings in Marino di
Pisa, they had never had plumbing problems.
She knocked and the door swung open at her touch.
Adriana started to scream, but no sound came.
Rosa was just inside the door, sprawled on her belly,
the back of her head gone. Luigi was in the mess that
had been the fish tanks. He was on his back and his
mouth was working, gulping like one of his fish.
She continued to stand and stare, trying to scream,
when she realized that there was sound coming from the
old man's mouth.
Signore Corelli was still alive.
Like an automaton, the young woman walked stiff-
legged across the room. She knelt and made the sign of
the cross. "Oh. dear God. Signore Corelli s"
His eyes were open, staring, and the lips still moved.
The eyes drew her down to him until her ear was nearly
touching his lips.
"Stillati Vito ... Sophia ... Stillati ... Palermo
must tell .. i"
tell what, Signore Corelli?"
"What.
Adriana lifted her head and looked down into the
now sightless eyes.
She would never know what to tell. Luigi Corelli was
dead.
She stood, her whole body shaking, her chest heaving
with quick intakes of air.
What should she do?
Stillati, Vito, Sophia, Palermo.
My God, she thought, Sicily. Were the Corellis vic-
tims of a vendetta? Would the Stillatis come after her as
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NICK CARTER



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well if she told the police what the old man had said just
before dying?
She ran from the apartment, closing the door behind
her. For an hour she walked the streets of the tiny resort
village, her mind in a daze.
Finally it was fear that gripped her. She ran back to
her apartment house, but didn't enter. Instead, she
climbed in her car and drove the three miles inland to
Pisa.
She would stay with her mother for a few days and
call in sick to work.
Andriana Saldo wanted no part of it.











ELEVEN
Carter knew he was being carried. He could sense the
swaying motion. and he could hear voices but he
couldn't make out the words.
Every movement pained him. The pain was like a cold
sword being driven through his spine until it ended just
inside his skull. As it went on, he didn't care especially
whether he lived or died. He merely wanted to lie still.
He wanted quiet, wanted to be left to die in peace.
Then the movement stopped, and with it the pain
ebbed. His body was cushioned by something soft, and
he slept.
When he awakened, his head had returned to his
body, but it was all floating together now. And the pain
was back.
But that was good. He wasn't dead after all. You
don't hurt when you're dead.
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don't hurt when you're dead.
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NICK CARTER
He tested one eye and got it partially open. There was
a ruddy amber light all around him. The room focused
. a chair, a woman in the chair.
The woman was familiar. She was wearing shorts,
yellow shorts, as tight a fit as possible, and a green tank
top that stretched like rubber over her breasts. She
wasn't wearing a brassiere. She was sexy, even in sleep.
And then he remembered.
"Loretta .. ."
The woman's eyes popped open and she was instantly
by his side. "Nick, thank God you're awake!"
"Water .. ."
She got him a glass of water and held it to his lips.
He went back to sleep while he was drinking it.
When he woke up again, his mind was operating bet
ter. She was beside him, sound asleep in the shorts and
top. He rolled his head to the side and blew in her ear.
Her eyes opened and she rolled to her side, facin
him. "You gonna live, kiddo?"
"Think so," he replied. "What time is it?"
She checked her wrist. "Five o'clock in the morn
ing."
"What happened? "
"When you didn't come back that night or the next
day, I sent Mort and Jake out to find you .. ."
"The next day?" Carter shook his head, making his
brain settle in the right place, and then remembered th
blond woman, the interrogation, and the hypo.
"They found the boat but no you, so they started ask
ing up and down the river. Doesn't much get by the rive
people. They know every boat and car that don'
belong. They found you, drugged, in the Old abandone
chain gang work camp. "
"Loretta, how long has it been since I left you
place?"
"Four days. "
THE ANDROPOV FILE
121
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Carter's eyes opened wide. "Four days? Jesus, got to
get to a phone."
But it wasn't that easy. His legs were rubber. Loretta
had to hold him up and walk back and forth with him
across the room before they would gain some strength
and the buzzing in his head would stop.
"You need some food. "
"Telephone first, then food."
They were in her quarters behind the café. She
managed to get him to the front and pull up a stool for
him to sit on.
"I'll make some soup."
"Yeah, soup," Carter said, and dialed the Washing-
ton emergency number. The operator answered on the
first ring, verified Carter's code, and patched him
through to Hawk's residence.
The AXE chief's sleepy voice answered, but he
became instantly alert when Carter identified himself.
"It was a setup. They wanted a rundown on Joseph
Kadinskov and his sister, the ones got out through
Finland.
"After all this time?" Hawk growled. "What makes
them so important now?"
Then Carter dropped the bomb. 'S The file Andropov
kept on his cronies was for real. General Shalin and
his boys got the microfilm out of the country inside a
corpse. Kadinskov helped them. The main honcho is a
woman, a Major Anya Chevola. From the sound of it,
her job for the last three years has been to get that file,
or make sure no one else gets it."
"And they think they can find it through Kadin-
skov?"
"Evidently," Carter said. "They used drugs on me,
so I don't really know how much I told them. I couldn't
have told them too much, because I don't know where
the hell Joseph and Nina are myself."
"Does anybody?"
122
NICK CARTER
"Maybe," Carter sighed. "That's what worries me.
Can you have Central get in touch with a CID man in
Rome named Salvatore Mandetti, and have him call me
here?"
"Give me the number.




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so I don't really know how much I told them. I couldn't
have told them too much, because I don't know where
the hell Joseph and Nina are myself."
"Does anybody?"
122
NICK CARTER
"Maybe," Carter sighed. "That's what worries me.
Can you have Central get in touch with a CID man in
Rome named Salvatore Mandetti, and have him call me
here?"
"Give me the number.
Carter read off the number on the pay phone and
hung up.
He walked slowly back to the counter where a bowl Of
steaming soup and several squares of warm corn bread
awaited him. The food gave him new life.
' 'Better?"
"Much. I could use a shower and a shave."
"You'd better make it a bath, and a French one at
that. The doc was here while you were out and changed
your bandages. Get 'em wet and they'll never dry."
She filled the sink while Carter devoured a second
bowl of soup.
"Ready."
He found her naked, standing by the sink, washcloth
in hand. He arched one eyebrow.
She ran the bar of soap between her breasts.
It was one hell of a bath.
The phone rang just as Carter finished dressing.
Loretta made no move to answer it, which told Carter
that she was keeping to her promise of noninvolvement.
Not once had she asked a single question.
"Hello?"
1' Rome calling a Mr. Nick Carter."
"Speaking."
"GO ahead, sir."
'(Carter, this is Salvatore Mandetti. Your office just
found me."
' 'It's about Luigi Corelli. I want you to find him and
put a couple of men on him until I can get there
"You're too late, Carter."
A chill gripped his spine and his knuckles went white
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on the phone. "What do you mean, too late?"
123
J 'Corelli and his wife were murdered the day before
yesterday in Marina di Pisa."
"Dammit!" Carter hissed between clenched teeth.
"We'd like some kind of statement from you, since
you inquired just before—"
"I'll give you a statement, Mandetti, in Rome, just as
soon as I can get there. In the meantime ..
Carter gave the Italian as good a description of Anya
Chevola and company as he could.
" Russians? "
"That's right. It's odds on they were responsible."
"That puts it square in my lap. I'll get the locals out
of it and put the word out on those descriptions. What's
the motive?"
"Can't tell you that over an open line. I'm getting the
first flight out. See you in Rome in the morning."
"Good enough. I'll have a driver waiting for you at
the airport. Ciao."
Carter hung up the phone and turned. Loretta was
standing in the dim light by the counter.
"You're leaving. "
"Have to."
"You'll want these." She reached under the counter
and came up with the Luger and the sheathed stiletto.
As she handed them over, her dark eyes looked almost
shyly into Carter's. "Rome's a long ways from the
bayou.
Carter smiled. ' 'Yeah, but maybe I'll come back for
some real fishing."









TWELVE
It was already a hot morning, windless and still, when
the plane set down at Leonardo da Vinci Airport. Carter
had the front seat in the first class section and was the
first one out the door when it opened. Just as he
emerged, a steward passed him the sealed airline bag
containing his weapons.
A tall, thin man in a dark suit met Carter at the bag-
gage claim area.
"Signore Nick Carter?"
• 'I am Bartolli." They both flashed IDs. 'j This way,
please."
The car, motor running, was in a No Parking zone.
Carter tossed his bag in and followed it.
"You in on this?" Carter asked.
The other man nodded. "For the last two days."
126
125
MCK CARTER
They small-talked through Rome traffic, so by the
time they hit the CID headquarters building on the out-




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• 'I am Bartolli." They both flashed IDs. 'j This way,
please."
The car, motor running, was in a No Parking zone.
Carter tossed his bag in and followed it.
"You in on this?" Carter asked.
The other man nodded. "For the last two days."
126
125
MCK CARTER
They small-talked through Rome traffic, so by the
time they hit the CID headquarters building on the out-
skirts of the city, Carter had a bare-bones background.
"Fourth floor—secretary's got your name."
"Grazie. "
The secretary was middle-aged and looked tired. "Go
right in. He's expecting you."
Carter dropped his bag by her desk and went into the
inner office.
Salvatore Mandetti was small and probably dapper at
most times. Now he wore a rumpled blue suit and no tie.
His shirt collar was curled and dirty, and he needed a
shave more than Carter did. Also, the whites of his eyes
were yellowish and red-flecked, and his hand, holding a
cup of coffee, trembled.
He stood when Carter entered, and they shook hands.
"You've been at it for a while," Carter said, taking a
chair.
"Yes, and even heavier after I talked with you. Cor-
elli was well liked around here."
"He was a good man. Anything yet on Chevola and
the other two? "
"Nothing," the other man said, and then sighed.
"But then we don't always get the cooperation between
agencies we'd like. I'm sure you know about that."
Carter nodded. "Believe me, it's not just indigenous
to Italy. Want to give me a rundown?"
Mandetti took a swig of cold coffee. "They were
killed in their apartment. It's in Marina di Pisa, above
Livorno. The place was ransacked, but as near as we
could determine nothing was taken. After I talked to
you, we sure as hell ruled out robbery."
"How did they get it?" Carter asked.
"Nine millimeter, no casings, so it was impossible to
get a good make. The wife took two in the back of the
head. Luigi got three .
. one in the gut and two in the
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, no casings,so it was imposs
get a good make. The wife took two in the back of the
head. Luigi got three .
. one in the gut and two in the
chest."
THE ANDROPOV FILE
127
Mandetti passed some photographs across the desk.
Carter looked them over and ground his teeth.
"Jesus."
"I agree, very messy• Want to give me your end of
it?"
Carter told him the whole of it, right from the begin-
ning until the hypo in his arm.
When he fell silent, the Italian whistled and dropped
his head into his hands. ' 'Looks like we've both got a
big one by the tail. Any pictures of the brother and
sister?"
"None on our side. Did you pick up anything in the
Corelli apartment they might have missed? "
"Nothing. And we've gone over every line of Cor-
elli's case file. There's nothing in it that mentions your
people."
Carter helped himself to a cup of coffee and regained
his seat. "There wouldn't be. He did it outside the
agency, as a personal favor to me. Can I see the lab and
coroner's physical assessment of the bodies? "
Mandetti fingered a stack of file folders and passed
two of them across the desk. He stood and got himself a
fresh cup of coffee as Carter read.
The lab report turned up some alcohol in Luigi Cor-
elli's body. Other than that, it gave Carter very little.
The coroner's on-site physical description was a lot
more helpful. He read, reread, and then skimmed cer-
tain passages a third time. Carter had read a thousand
such reports, and while he knew little or nothing of
medicine, he had become familiar with certain terms.
He looked up. When he spoke, Mandetti swiveled
around from the window.
"His fingers and wrist were broken, as well as a col-
larbone. Also, there were several contusions on the face
and shoulders, as well as a few cracked ribs."
Mandetti nodded. "Obviously they worked him over
pretty hard before they killed him. At first we figured
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NICK CARTER




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NICK CARTER
that could mean a lot of things. After I talked to you, I
figured they tried to get information from him i"
"Names and places," Carter said, to himself as much
as to the other man. '*The question was, did he tell
them?" The Killmaster dropped the lab file back on the
desk and paced, again reading the physical files this time
concentrating on the autopsy. "Could you get me in
touch with this Dr. Petrelli?"
"Sure." Mandetti reached for the phone. It took less
than a minute and he was explaining to the other end
who Nick Carter was. That done, he handed the instru-
ment to Carter.
"Hello, Doctor, this is Carter," he said in Italian.
"Yes, Signore Carter, what can I do for you?"
"In your autopsy report, you've got a thorough
description of the three wounds that killed Luigi Cor-
"Angle of entry, depth, damage to internal organs
could you explain that to me in layman's terms?"
"Of course. One moment—I have a copy of the
report right here on my desk. Yes. here it is."
Carter closed his eyes while the doctor translated
from medicalese. By the time he got to the end, the
killmaster thought he might have something.
"Thank you, Doctor. Now, tell me, would you say
that Rosa Corelli was killed instantly?"
"No doubt about it. One bullet severed her spine at
the base of the brain. the other entered the brain itself.
Either one would have caused instantaneous death."
"I suspected as much. Now. you stated in your report
that Luigi Corelli had traces of blood and skin, not his
own, under his fingernails."
"That's correct. I believe I penciled in a hypothesis
on the report that Signore Corelli probably struggled
with his attacker before being shot. i'
THE ANDROPOV FILE
Carter lit a cigarette, mulling this over.
129
Luigi had struggled. That was why he'd been shot,
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own, under his fingernails."
"That's correct. I believe I penciled in a hypothesis
on the report that Signore Corelli probably struggled
with his attacker before being shot. i'
THE ANDROPOV FILE
Carter lit a cigarette, mulling this over.
129
Luigi had struggled. That was why he'd been shot,
three times in the front. It was a much sloppier kill than
was his wife's.
"Is there anything else, Signore Carter? "
"Yes, just one more thing. Could I assume, from
your analysis of the report, that none of the three slugs
in Luigi Corelli was a kill shot? By that I mean, instan-
taneous death? "
This time there was a long pause before the doctor
replied, and when he did, he seemed to be picking his
words very carefully.
"I am afraid that is an imponderable. Signore Corelli
could have died at once. or shortly after being shot. Or
he could have lived for a certain amount of time."
"Which is it, Doctor?"
"You're putting me on the spot, Signore Carter."
"1 know. There is no mention in the report about
blood loss. "
'J There were two reasons for that. Two of the bullets
hit blood reservoirs that would flow after the heart
stopped beating. Also, if you look at the photographs.
you will see that there were two broken fish tanks. The
water from one spilled directly over the body. Because
Of this, it was impossible to determine the amount of
blood from the exterior evidence. "
"Then let me put it this way, Doctor. With the
wounds that he suffered, could Luigi Corelli have lived
for a period of time after he was shot?"
Another long pause. ' 'Yes, it would have been possi-
ble. "
"Thank you very much, Doctor."
Salvatore Mandetti was frowning when Carter hung
up the phone. ' 'If you're thinking about a last state-
ment, forget it. He was very, very dead, and had been
for over three hours when he was found. 




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for over three hours when he was found. "
130
NICK CARTER
6' Who found him?"
"Woman in the lower apartment. Here's her state-
ment."
Carter scanned it quickly. The woman was Teresa
Genova. age seventy-one. Water seeping through her
ceiling drew her to the Corelli apartment. She knocked,
opened the door, and saw the bodies. Her screaming
brought the old man. Guido improta, who lived in the
other downstairs apartment.
It was Improta who called the police.
"According to this," Carter said, "neither the
Genova woman nor the old man entered the apart-
ment."
"That's right."
"Got a magnifying glass?" Carter took the glass and
placed it over the closeup photo of Luigi Corelli's body.
"See? Here in the rug? Those are imprints of a wornan's
high-heeled shoes, spike heels in fact." The thick rug,
drained, left both of those prints clear.
Mandetti shrugged. "Anya Chevola?"
"No way. I had a run-in with Major Chevola, a real
closeup one. The major is a big woman, maybe six feet.
And she was proportioned big all over, right down to
her feet. I'd say these prints were made by a small
woman, five feet, maybe a hundred pounds. "
"Well, I'll be damned "
i 'Mandetti, I'd like copies of all the interrogations
done on people in the building, and any of the friends
that could have dropped in that night. Also, a set of
these pictures. "
• 'Take those. They're copies."
"And I'd also like to go up there and look around ...
now, if possible."
"No problem. I'll get you a chopper to Pisa and have
a car waiting for you there. i'
While Mandetti was on the phone, Carter gathered all
the material in one envelope.
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131
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"You're set. Bartolli will drive you to the helipad."
"Thanks. I suppose you're going through all of Core
elli's contacts and the informers he had while he was still
active?"
"We're doing that now. Itis taking time. He was in
the agency twenty-seven years."
"I'd like a copy of that list."
"Have it for you when you get back."
"Again, thanks." the Killmaster said, and headed for
the door.
"Carter ..
"Yeah?"
"Call me."
"I'll do that."











THIRTEEN
It was dusk and the sun was setting spectacularly over
the horizon as Carter maneuvered the car down the
winding road from Pisa to the marina village. The sky
was slashed with strokes of flaming red and burnt
orange as the sun itself became only a sliver on the
horizon.
He easily found the single good hotel, and registered.
In his room, he changed shirts, splashed some water on
his face, and pulled on a casual windbreaker.
Back downstairs at the desk, he wrote an address on a
pad and turned it around to the clerk. "Where can I
find that?"
' 'It is up there, signore, in the San Gordo. Only one
apartment house is finished completely." A shrug.
"The builder ran out of money."
134
133
NICK CARTER
It was only a five-minute drive, and Carter could see
what the clerk had meant. One four-unit apartment
house was completed. Beside it there were two half*
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find that?"
' 'It is up there, signore, in the San Gordo. Only one
apartment house is finished completely." A shrug.
"The builder ran out of money."
134
133
NICK CARTER
It was only a five-minute drive, and Carter could see
what the clerk had meant. One four-unit apartment
house was completed. Beside it there were two half*
finished shells.
No wonder there had been no witnesses outside that
night. The only residents were those in the four units,'
and there were no other dwellings on the cul-de-sac that
overlooked the marina and the ocean.
During the chopper flight from Rome to Pisa, he had
gone over all the statements and was able to eliminate
the eight names of Luigi and Rosa Corelli's friends.
None of them had been anywhere near the apartment
that night, so there was no chance of jarring something
out of them they might have missed.
He would have to concentrate on Corelli's neighbors,
the names he was staring at right now on three mail
boxes.
Before going to the lower door marked '81 " h
stepped back out of the alcove for a second.
There were bright lights on in both lower units. Dim
light showed through closed drapes in one of the uppe
units.
He stepped back into the alcove and knocked.
The door opened and an elderly woman appeared
Her face was seamed with wrinkles, and her while h
straggled out from a few plastic combs. She wore
long, plain black dress. black stockings and shoes, th
uniform of a widow, but her bright eyes were blue.
"Signora Genova? "
C'Si?"
"My name is Carter, signora." he replied in carefu
Italian. "I am with the government. I would like to as
you a few questions about the night of the tragedy. "
He flashed his credentials long enough for her to
that they were official, but not long enough to let h
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"Come in."
She moved back, and Carter followed her through a
usty living room into a smaller, cozier sitting room
ith plants everywhere. Chairs were arranged around a
mall, homemade round table.
"Sit."
' Grazie. "
He sat down. A huge, long-haired cat leaped from
nother chair, walked around his leg, sniffed, and
•eced at him.
"Benito, come." The cat jumped into the old
oman's lap, made two turns, and settled.
"Benito?" Carter asked.
"l named him after II Duce, He is a tyrant with a ter-
'ble temper. What do you want to know?"
"What happened that night, what you saw, heard."
i 'I told the police."
"I know. Would you tell me again?"
With a shrug she launched into it. The story was
Imost verbatim to the one in the folder on his lap.
"You heard no car that night?"
"No, and I hear every car that comes up here. The
young boys and girls like to come up and park on the
liff and do the things young girls and boys do. I heard
our car just now."
"What about anyone on the stairs?"
thought heard Adriana come home, but I was
mistaken. She wasn't here that night. "
"That wasn't in the report. You told the police you
heard women's heels on the stairs."
"1 did, but it couldn't have been Adriana. She wasn't
here that night. Guido Improta pounded on her door to
use her phone to call the police. She wasn't home, so he
had to go down the hill to the market."
"You and the Improtas have no phone?"
"No, signore. We are poor people, retired. "
136
"I see."
Genova."
NICK CARTER
Carter stood. "Thank you,
Signora



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"I see."
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NICK CARTER
Carter stood. "Thank you, Signora
Genova."
She shrugged. "Make sure the door is locked when
you close it. "
will."
The cat hissed at Carter again as he left.
He used the same intro on the couple across the hall.
They invited him in reluctantly, but didn't Offer a chair.]
Gina Improta was quiet, prim, and white-haired, with
a sickly narrow face and a small, dry-lipped mouth.
Guido Improta was pasty and flabby-faced, quiet an
untidy. He was well past middle age, but his sparse gra
hair was combed crosswise over his skull and seemed ar
tificially waved.
While Carter questioned him, the man had a remote
faraway expression in his eyes, as if he weren't listening.
"Signore Improta, suppose you tell me in your ow
words what you did that night?"
It was rambling, but fairly close to the same sto
Carter had read in the report. While he spoke, his eyes
wandered, his lips were wet, loose and purplish, and his
jaw was slack.
Carter was believing only half of what he heard
Something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger o
it as he stood there, stiff, while they sat on a pillow
covered sofa.
The inside of the apartment surprised him. It had
kind of gracious dignity. There were some Oil paintin
on the walls, and they looked like originals. The fur
niture wasn't department-store cheap, either. The table
were hand-carved, burnished antiques, and there was
deep, rich Oriental carpet on the floor.
"l understand you don't have a phone, signore."
"No, no, we do not."
' 'Y ou can't afford a telephone?"
'UNO, no we cannot. i'
THE ANDROPOV FILE
137
Carter went around the room, pausing now and then
to point out various objects and mention an approxima-
tion of their value.
"What did you do before you retired, Signore Im-




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o, o, we o not.
' 'Y ou can't afford a telephone?"
'UNO, no we cannot. i'
THE ANDROPOV FILE
137
Carter went around the room, pausing now and then
to point out various objects and mention an approxima-
tion of their value.
"What did you do before you retired, Signore Im-
prota?"
I was with the maritime, at Genoa."
Carter smiled. That explained it. All the objects in the
room were either graft payoffs or stolen outright from
the docks at Genoa.
Carter bluntly said so, watched the impact his words
had on the couple, and moved in for the kill. "Suppose
you tell me just what you saw that night, signore," he
growled.
"Get out! Get out of my house!" the man blustered.
"If I do, I'll come back. With the police."
Signore Improta broke, the words gushing from his
lips like Niagara Falls. Yes, he admitted, he saw a man
and a woman go up to the Corelli apartment, and he
saw them leave. The description fit Anya Chevola
perfectly. The description of the man also fit the giant
who had stood in the shadows of Carter's cell door.
Signore Improta finished, sweating, and his wife took
it right up.
. and we said we didn't go into the apart-
"And .
I just wanted to look
ment, but I did go in .
around
"Shut up, woman!"
"No, Improta, you shut up!"
"Go on, signora," Carter prompted. 6 'You went
in • e"
"Yes. They didn't like us. I just wanted to see her
things "
"Was Luigi Corelli still alive?"
"Oh, Lord, no. He was dead—I'm sure of it."
"Did you crouch beside the body?"
She gasped and made the sign of the cross. "Oh, no, I
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MCK CARTER
would never do that! I just wanted to 100k at Rosa's
clothes. She was always so turned out e"
Carter's eyes traveled down to the woman's feet.
"Were you wearing those shoes that night. signora?"
She looked down at the low, worn, flat-heeled shoes.
When she looked back up, her face had turned into
something vile.
"Of course I was. These are the only shoes I own."
"l swear, woman, be quiet!" her husband hissed.
She snorted derisively in his direction. "Him, with all
his money, wouldn't let me buy another pair of shoes."
It was mini-World War II time between them right
there in the tiny living room.
Carter slipped out before it came to blows. He was
about to push the buzzer beside the door guarding the
stairs to the second floor, when he thought better of it.
The third key on his ring of masters opened it, and he
slipped inside. Quietly, he moved up the stairs. The Core
ellis had lived in number 3. He knocked on the door of
number 4.
The door opened a crack and a hollow, female voice
came from the darkness. "Si?"
' 'My name is Carter. I'd like to talk to you about the
Corelli murders." He held up his credentials case. A
slender hand came through the crack and snatched it.
"You are American? 't
"Yes, I am working with the Italian government. You
are Adriana Saldo?"
"Yes." The case was shoved back into his hand. "l
told the police and the men from Rome everything I
know."
The door started to slam. Carter thrust his foot be.
tween it and the jamb.
"Signorina Saldo, I was also a good friend of Luigi
Corelli."
He could sense the hesitation, and then, ' 'All right."
THE ANDROPOV FILE
139
He withdrew his foot. The door closed and he heard
the chain drop. Then it opened again.
She was about twenty, give or take a year, and small




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tween it and the jamb.
"Signorina Saldo, I was also a good friend of Luigi
Corelli."
He could sense the hesitation, and then, ' 'All right."
THE ANDROPOV FILE
139
He withdrew his foot. The door closed and he heard
the chain drop. Then it opened again.
She was about twenty, give or take a year, and small
but inclined to plumpness, with almond-shaped black
eyes that darted. Her black hair hung straight past her
shoulders and was pulled back from her face with a
tortoise-shell band.
Carter stepped through the door and she closed it
behind him. ' ST his way."
The apartment was smaller than the ones below, with
just one bedroom and bath, a tiny kitchen, and a
medium-size living room with a dining area at one end.
He waited for her to seat herself in one of the two
armchairs. When she did, he took a hard, upright chair,
turned it around and sat astride it with his hands folded
along the back.
It was a calculated move Of power, and it worked. She
shifted nervously in her own chair as he looked at her
quietly.
Up closer and curled in the chair, she looked even
younger. vulnerable and innocent. But Carter knew by
bitter experience how deceptive such an appearance
could be.
"Well, signore, what do you want to know?" Her
voice was surprisingly low and husky for such a petite
young woman; there was nothing little-girlish about it.
But Carter did detect a slight tremor.
' 'According to the statement you gave the police, you
weren't home the night of the murders."
"That's right. was at my mother's in Pisa. I drove
down that evening from work."
"You didn't come home first?"
Her nostrils flared slightly and her eyes opened a little
wider. "No. My mother wasn't feeling well."
"And you took care of her for three days?"




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NICK CARTER
"You phoned the place where you work and said you
weren't feeling well."
"That's the only way could get off. "
"And you came back yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Not before?"
"No."
He hammered her, asking question after question and
going back and asking them again.
At one point she got rattled and jerked her feet from
beneath her in the chair. They hit the floor and her
hands came down on the table between them.
"I told you that already! How many times must you
ask me the same thing?"
Carter fell silent. He opened the envelope and ex-
tracted the photographs. As hedid, he continued to
study her.
She was all ovals . . . the curve of her eyebrows, the
shape of her face, the fullness of her breasts with the
tight blouse tied beneath them. His eyes wandered gown
to her feet. They were very tiny in a pair of open slip-
pers.
'JHow much do you weigh, Adriana?"
"What?"
"How much do you weigh?"
"What does that have to do with—
"How much?" His voice was like thunder in the quiet
room.
Her lower lip and chin quivered and she pressed her
hands harder to the table to keep them still.
Her nails were bitten close. When she became aware
that Carter was looking at them, she quickly drew her
fingers in. clenching her fists.
Again their eyes met.
J'A hundred pounds."




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THE ANDROPOV FILE
141
see the tears in her eyes. "They were very nice people."
"Yes, they were. I want you to look at this picture."
She barely looked at it and flung it from her instantly,
curling into a ball and breaking into heavy sobs.
Carter lit a cigarette, turned the chair around to face
her, and leaned back. For a full five minutes he let her
cry.
"May I use your bathroom?"
She nodded and kept sobbing.
Carter closed the door of the bedroom quietly behind
him and switched on the light. Gently, he opened the
door to the closet. It was a walk-in, clothes on both
sides and a hanging shoe rack on the back wall.
There were several pairs of spike-heeled shoes in the
pouches, and three pairs of boots on the floor with the
same style heel.
All of them were size 36-—in America, a size 5.
He flushed the toilet and returned to the living room.
Adriana had regained most of her composure. "Will
that be all?"
"Almost. Is your mother sick often?"
"Yes, quite often."
"Adriana, I have a theory that Luigi didn't die im-
mediately. I think he may have lived for a little while
after he was shot."
She said nothing, keeping her eyes averted, staring at
a large crucifix on the far wall.
"Adriana, are you telling me everything, the whole
truth?"
J' Yes, yes, damn you to hell! Leave me alone! What
do you want with me? I wasn't even here! Leave me
alone!"
Carter shrugged. He gathered the documents and
photographs and returned them to the envelope. He
headed toward the door, but halfway there he stopped
and turned.
"Adriana .. ."
142
"Yes?"
NICK CARTER
understand you're starting a new job next month
. a good job with the Tuscany office of social ser-
vices."
'S Yes, it is what am trained for."
"It will be a lot better than the waitress



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photographs an return t em to t e envelope.
headed toward the door, but halfway there he stopped
and turned.
"Adriana .. ."
142
"Yes?"
NICK CARTER
understand you're starting a new job next month
. a good job with the Tuscany office of social ser-
vices."
'S Yes, it is what am trained for."
' 'It will be a lot better than the waitress job you now
have in the hotel.
g 'I hope SO. "
"Luigi Corelli was always helping people, when he
could. Good night, Adriana."
He flipped a book of matches from the hotel into her
lap, turned, and walked out.
The address for Beatrice Saldo was in the heart of the
old city of Pisa, about a block from the Arno. The
apartment house looked as if a stab had been made at
renovation about fifty years before, and abandoned.
A screech erupted from inside before his finger lifted
from the bell. ' 'Come in ... come in!"
The door was unlocked. Carter entered and followed
the sound of ice in a glass.
Beatrice Saldo had probably been a stunning woman
with an eyeball-popping figure when she was young.
Now she was in her mid-fifties, a large, flabby woman
seated on a frayed sofa. She had one leg slung across the
other, a dimpled elbow resting nonchalantly on the
back, and she was downing large swallows of scotch
whiskey from a well-filled glass.
"You're not the boy from the grocery, but you'll do.
Sit down."
"My name is Carter, Signora Saldo."
She grabbed a bottle from a nearby drink trolley and
refilled the glass. Carter sat opposite her at a safe
distance.
She wore a short dress, her chubby legs bare above
short white socks and slippers. The dress was low-cut at
THE ANDROPOV FILE
143





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THE ANDROPOV FILE
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the bodice, and when she moved, both of her mammoth
breasts almost burst free.
"Drink?"
"Grazie, no . . . " Slowly and carefully, so her in-
ebriated mind could understand every word, Carter ex-
plained why he was there.
Signora Saldo smiled the inane, toothy smile of the
drunk halfway through. By the time he finished, she was
stone sober and like a clam.
No matter how rapidly he asked the questions, or how
he reversed them to trip her up, she stuck to the story. A
story, Carter was sure, Adriana had gone over a hun-
dred times with her.
A half hour later, Carter stood up to leave. It was a
lost cause and he knew it.
"My Adriana is a good girl. You leave her alone, you
hear?"
' 'I'd like to, signora, I would really like to."
He cursed the whole deal during the drive back to
Marina di Pisa. He was positive that Adriana Saldo had
been in the Corelli apartment that night. In fact, it was
probably she who had found the bodies. And, if that
was the way it had happened, there was an outside
chance that Luigi Corelli could have been alive and
spoken to her.
Carter stopped in the hotel dining room and ate a
quick bite, then bought a small bottle of brandy and
headed for his room.
He had to go through three numbers before he found
a weary Salvatore Mandetti.
The Italian wasn't surprised when Carter told him
about the Improtas' lies. "Not much we can do about it.
At least it confirms who we're after."
Then Carter told him about Adriana Saldo.
"Now, there we might do some good," Mandetti
said. "I think a little pressure could be applied. "
144
NICK CARTER
"That might be the only way we can get anything,"
Carter replied. "Set it up first thing in the morning and
call me."
"Will do."




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ot muchwe can do abo
a outt e mproas 1
At least it confirms who we're after."
Then Carter told him about Adriana Saldo.
"Now, there we might do some good," Mandetti
said. "I think a little pressure could be applied. "
144
NICK CARTER
"That might be the only way we can get anything,"
Carter replied. "Set it up first thing in the morning and
call me."
"Will do."
Carter hung up and moved to the big window
overlooking the ocean. Taking a long sip Of the brandy,
he felt it burn as it went down. But the jolt cleared his
mind.
He could imagine Nina and Joseph somewhere out
there, running. If they were still alive to run.
He tried to reason out the Russian major's thinking.
Was she going after the Andropov file? Or was she just
making sure that anyone and everyone who had had a
hand in the theft with General Shalin and the others was
silenced forever?
No matter which way it went, it didn't look good for
the brother and sister team, unless he and Mandetti's
people found them before Major Anya Chevola and her
gorilla.
Carter shuddered and refilled his glass.
Adriana groaned and rolled over in the bed, her eyes
tightly shuts as if that could drive all thought from her
mind. She was so tired, and yet she could not sleep. The
picture of Luigi Corelli dead on the floor kept flooding
her brain.
Finally she sighed and gave up. She pushed the covers
back and slipped into a robe. Lighting a cigarette, she
moved to the large square window that overlooked the
marina. Far below she saw the ribbon of beach road, lit
at this late hour only occasionally by the headlights of a
passing car.
Drawing deeply on the cigarette, her eyes followed the
road around the crescent Of the beach to the only tall
building bordering the marina, the hotel.
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THE ANDROPOV FILE
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145
the night sky. It was clear, the stars very bright, seem-
ingly very close.
Another shudder rippled through her body and she
drew jerkily on the cigarette. The stars had been very
bright and very close that night, too.
Another shudder, stronger this time, shook Adriana's
body. She brought her arms up to hug herself, and
found her nails digging into the soft flesh of her upper
arms.
It was still clear in her memory, every sound, every
sight, and every smell of that loathsome night.
Also every word Luigi Corelli had uttered.
She mashed out the cigarette and got dressed.
Carter was just starting to undress, when there was a
light rap on the door.
"It is Adriana Saldo."
He lost no time getting it open.
She stood like a lost waif, her eyes on the floor, her
hands folded over her belly. She was dressed as she had
been earlier, in blouse and jeans. Only now the blouse
was tucked into the jeans rather than tied under her
breasts, and she wore a windbreaker.
Also, her hair was in total disarray, as if she had just
gotten out of bed.
"May I come in?"
' 'Of course."
He stepped aside and closed the door after she had
passed him. She walked directly to the window and
stood where Carter had been standing for the last hour.
"You went to see my mother."
"Yes."
"She called me."
Carter lit a cigarette before he spoke. "I don't think
your mother has been sick a day in her life. "
NICK CARTER
146
"She hasn't other than the drink. I lied about that
night. "




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stood where Carter had been standing for the last hour.
"You went to see my mother."
"Yes."
"She called me."
Carter lit a cigarette before he spoke. "I don't think
your mother has been sick a day in her life. "
NICK CARTER
146
"She hasn't other than the drink. I lied about that
night. "
' 'I know. Want to tell me about it?"
She did. slowly, choosing each word.
.. I think he tried to tell me the names of his killers
just before he died."
Carter tried to keep his adrenaline in check to keep
her calm. "What did he say, Adriana exactly?"
Vito . . . Sophia . . . Stillati . Pa
lermo . . . must tell . . . * That was all he said, then he
died."
"Believe me, Adriana, he wasn't naming his killers."
He squeezed her arm and ran for the phone.










FOURTEEN
Carter walked up the wooden steps to the narrow
porch of the little house. The steps creaked slightly and
the front door stood open behind a screen.
Tapping on the locked screen produced no answer.
The house was quiet. He assumed one of them was at
home or the door would not have been open.
He turned his back to the house and looked around.
The grass was sparse in the tiny lawn, but well cared for,
and there were flowering bushes all along the front of
the house. A narrow walk ran along the bushes and
turned at the corner of the building.
Carter decided to follow it.
The gate at the side of the house was latched but not
locked. He reached over its top and let himself into the
enclosed rear yard. Following the walk down the side of
the building, he reached the rear corner and paused.
148
147
NICK CARTER




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NICK CARTER
It was then that he saw her.
She was on her haunches, a small spade in her hand,
pulverizing the earth around a bush, its flowers in
brilliant bloom. She wore a large straw hat against the
hot Sicilian sun. Her back was smooth and tanned, bare
except for the tie of a swimsuit top. Her only other
clothing was a pair of shorts made taut and revealing by
her present posture.
"Signorina Stillati?"
She whirled around quickly. almost losing her bal-
ance„ and squinted her eyes against the sun.
When she recognized him. she whooped, dropped the
spade. and ran into his arms.
He kissed her deeply and then held her at arm's length
by the shoulders.
' •Nina. we have to talk."
It was in the set of his jaw, his eyes, and the tone of
his voice.
"They have found us. "
"Maybe. I •m not sure."
"Let's go into the house. 'i
It was dark and cool inside. a welcome contrast to the
blazing heat of the sun. They entered through a service
porch and then the kitchen.
She removed the broad-brimmed hat and uncon-
sciously patted her hair. Then she sat at a table, facing
him.
"Tell me." she said, catching her lower lip between
her teeth.
"l will. But first. where is Joseph?"
"He has a little trucking business in Trapani. He
hauls fish every morning into the mountain villages."
'S When does he usually get back here?"
She glanced at a small clock on the wall. "He should
be here in a couple of hours
not much more. "
"Too long," Carter said. "Do you know the route he
takes?"
THE ANDROPOV FILE
"Yes."
149
"Change clothes. I have a car at the bottom of the
hill. We've got to find him."



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"When does he usually get back here?"
She glanced at a small clock on the wall. "He should
be here in a couple of hours
not much more. "
"Too long," Carter said. "Do you know the route he
takes?"
THE ANDROPOV FILE
"Yes."
149
"Change clothes. I have a car at the bottom of the
hill. We've got to find him."
"Tell me, Nick."
will, while we're moving."
Joseph Kadinskov forced the old truck up the last in-
cline out of the village and pulled to the side.
Before him was the tortuous, snakelike road that led
back down to Trapani. He had only one delivery left,
the Dozi villa. A young English couple had rented it for
the summer.
Normally, Kadinskov wouldn't take this terrible back
road on his return trip for just one box of fish, But the
English couple paid well, almost double, and they were
young and in love. And he only had to make the stop
three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
The road demanded all the power of the little truck to
climb it. and then all the stamina of the brakes to hold it
back going down.
Up there the breeze had stiffened to a wind, and the
sun had hazed Over, though it was still hot.
He lit a cigarette and eased out the clutch. Slowly he
let the truck roll forward, and began to maneuver the
spiral and hairpin turns of the downward road.
Now and then over the trees he could see the rest of
the island and the ocean in the distance. It was a
beautiful sight, never ceasing to impress him.
And then he braked hard and swung the truck be-
tween open, wrought-iron gates. He halted it in the mid-
dle of a cobbled courtyard from which wide terraced
levels stepped up to a dazzingly white stone house.
Kadinskov loved this villa. Perhaps one day he and
Nina could live in such a house. When there was no
more fear, when they could come out of hiding. then
they could spend some of the money they had saved,
and live like something other than peasants.
NICK CARTER




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they could spend some of the money they had saved,
and live like something other than peasants.
150
NICK CARTER
There was an ornate brass knocker attached to the
front door, but he hardly ever had to use it. The young
wife, Sabrina, always met him before he reached the
door.
He was about to knock, when the door swung inward.
Kadinskov narrowed his eyes. The inside was as dark as
night in contrast with the glare outside.
"Signora Sabrina e"
Then he saw her. This wasn't the diminutive British
housewife with the soft brown hair. This woman was
tall, very tall, inches taller than he was, so he had to
look up at her. And she had striking blond hair, pulled
severely back from her face.
She motioned him inside. Kadinskov shrugged and
stepped into the long hall.
"l have brought the fish," he said in the only slightly
accented Italian he was so proud of.
Too late, Kadinskov saw the huge bulk of a man
come out of the doorway to his left. A fist like steel hit
the side of his head, knocking him to his knees.
Suddenly his arm was twisted up behind him, forcing
his head and shoulders down. Kadinskov cried out as a
knee crashed into his face. His arm was released, and as
he fell he tried to crawl forward to escape the pain.
"Be careful, Yevgeny, keep him awake. Tilkoff, help
him. "
It was the woman's voice. Yevgeny. Dear God, they
had found him at last!
Suddenly there was another man, holding his arms to
the floor high above his head, and the giant was over
him with a knife.
His shirt was ripped open and the big man was
sprawling across his legs so he couldn't move.
Then the knife came down and he felt the pain as the
sharp blade began to shave the skin from his body.
Kadinskov tried to scream, but no sound came.
THE ANDROPOV FILE
"Enough, Yevgeny, for the moment."
151




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