After having watched his driver consume at least a half carafe of red wine, Carter was mildly apprehensive when the three reboarded the bus and Enrico settled in behind the wheel. It was midafternoon, and though he had drunk not a drop of wine, Carter himself was feeling ready to lie down and take a little nap; he could only imagine how the other two felt. To his amazement, however, Enrico suddenly broke into a loud, bellowing rendition of “La Donna è Mobile.” With Il Direttore roaring with laughter beside him, he put the bus in gear and stepped on the gas, and off they went. The two men took turns trading songs, until a short while later when Enrico put up his hand for quiet and told Carter to look up the road.

Carter came closer to the windshield and gazed out. Ahead of them in the distance, he saw what looked like little more than a thin streak of white high up on the mountainside. Having no idea of what it might be, he looked at Il Direttore with questioning eyes.

“Castelalto,” he said to Carter, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.Then he broke out into song again.

The good news for Carter was that the bus arrived at the turn for Castelalto just a few minutes later, thereby saving what remained of his hearing from the auditory assault of the two would-be tenors. The bad news, as explained to him by Enrico, was that the bus was too long to fit around the corners of the narrow, twisting road that led up to the village three kilometers away. As much as it grieved them, they would have to drop Carter there at the base of the road, and he would have to walk the rest of the way. There was nothing to be done for it, so Carter collected his things, thanked the two men for the meal and of course the entertainment, and stepped off the bus.

“Don’t worry,” Enrico told him. “Somebody will probably come along soon and give you a ride.”

“And don’t forget to tell them who brought you here,” shouted his assistant. “Always remember to say, ‘Today I rode with Enrico and Il Direttore!’ ”

At that, the two men bid him buon viaggio, waved goodbye, and broke into song again as Enrico closed the door and began to drive away.

Carter stood there, waving them out of sight, before slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. Then he turned and began the long trudge up the road to Castelalto.

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 38