The former United States Attorney had become the most prominent defense counsel in New York City. His law firm, The Union and Metropolitan, had carefully cultivated their superstar. He moved to the other side to defend high profile corporate executives from federal prosecution at exorbitant hourly rates. But the biggest case in world history was foisted upon him in a high velocity whirlwind of events. Nick de'Conti is defending the president for the highest of high crimes: Treason! Shuttling between New York and Washington D.C., the case, the politics, the culture clash, the impromptu love affair with the opposing federal prosecutor and the trial of the millennium provide a backdrop for a once in a lifetime test of conscience.Niccolò Cérvantés de'Conti : The de'Conti Series features the protagonist, Niccolò Cérvantés de'Conti . He is a lawyer who progresses from a dirty-faced kid in East Harlem to New York City Prosecutor to U.S. Attorney to a high priced, white-shoe lawyer practicing atop Rockefeller Plaza. These works are raw, edgy, graphic, thought-provoking, multi-ethnic and interracial. de'Conti is no stereotypical lawyer. Nick de'Conti is a good and decent man, an ethnic—brilliant and wealthy. He is a mixture of Basque and Southern Italian, which explains his penchant for independent thought and action, and the passion with which he approaches everything in his life. The works trace his life from the depths of his squalid, childhood poverty in East Harlem to his unimagined success, albeit troubled, conflicted and, at times, ethically bereft. The murder of his twenty year old daughter in the first novel ( Let No Man Be My Albatross ) consumes him, defines his life and impels him to do things to which no ordinary lawyer would give a first thought.
What if your daughter met a tortured demise? What would a father think to do? Rage and revenge would be the desire of many fathers. As the U.S. Attorney, Nick de’Conti allowed the system that nurtured his legal career to exact justice. It just wasn’t enough justice.
Nick de'Conti's vigilantism in Let No Man Be My Albatross (The First Novel of The de'Conti Series) caused his wife's estrangement. She divorced him because she could not abide the predator he had become to avenge their daughter's death. He pines and courts her in an attempt to win her back. But over time relationships become complicated. The upscale lawyer from Manhattan, the woman he loves most, his wife, is ambivalent. The uptown African-American woman from Harlem, with whom he fell in love during his most trying times, loves him more.
Originally published Feb. 11, 1911, here is issue #737 of the famous Nickel Weekly, Nick Carter Stories. This ebook contains the Nick Carter novel THE MARK OF A CIRCLE.
Has Nick Carter finally met his match? A new master-criminal is on the New York scene—and armed with medical knowledge, a talent for impersonation, and a brazen set of schemes that even use Nick to his advantage, he's pulled off a series of thefts that no one seems able to stop.
John Lansing and his sister, heirs to a fortune, run afoul of crooks determined to swindle them out of their inheritance through a fake mine scheme. When Nick Carter agrees to help, he finds danger and murderous intent—these men will stop at nothing to win! And they may, in fact, tie into another case he worked on, but failed to completely resolve...
Originally pubished December 26, 1908, here is the lead novel from issue #626 of the famous magazine, Nick Carter Weekly. This ebook contains the complete Nick Carter novel THE MONEY SCHEMERS.
Originally pubished September 21, 1912, here is the lead novel from issue #2 of the famous Nickel Weekly, Nick Carter Stories. This ebook contains the complete Nick Carter novel THE FACE AT THE WINDOW.
While visiting the United States, the wife of young British aristocrat Lord Waldmere goes missing in New York City under mysterious circumstances. He tell his story to Nick Carter, and Nick accepts the case.
IT had rained in torrents all the way down from Schenectady, so when Jack Duane glimpsed the lights of what looked to be a big house through the trees, he braked his battered, convertible sedan to a stop at the side of the road. Mud lay along the fenders and running boards; mud and water had spumed up and freckled Duane’s face and hat. He pulled off the latter—it was soggy—and slapped it on the seat beside him, leaning out and squinting through the darkness and falling water. He was on the last lap of a two weeks’ journey from San Francisco, his objective being New York City. There he hoped to wangle a job as foreign correspondent from an old crony, J. J. Molloy, now editor of the New York Globe. Adventurer, journalist, globetrotter, Duane was of the type that is always on the move. “It’s a place, anyway, Moses,” he said to the large black man beside him, his servitor and bodyguard, who had accompanied him everywhere for the past three years. “Somebody lives there; they ought to have some gas.” “Yasah,” said Moses, staring past Duane’s shoulder, “it’s a funny-looking place, suh.” Duane agreed. Considering that they were seventy miles from New York, in the foothills of the Catskills, with woods all around them and the rain pouring down, the thing they saw through the trees, some three hundred yards from the country road, was indeed peculiar. It looked more like a couple of Pullman cars coupled together and lighted, than like a farmer’s dwelling. “Fenced in, too,” said Duane, pointing to the high steel fence that bordered the road, separating them from the object of their vision. “And look there—” A fitful flash of lightning in the east, illuminating the distant treetops, showed up the towering steel and network of a high-voltage electric line’s tower. The roving journalist muttered something to express his puzzlement, and got out of the car. Moses followed him. “Well,” said Duane presently, when they had stared a moment longer, “whatever it is, I’m barging in. We’ve got to have some gas or we’ll never make New York tonight.” MOSES agreed. The two men started across the road—the big Negro hatless and wearing a slicker—the reporter in a belted trench coat, his brown felt hat pulled out of shape on his head. “It’s a big thing,” Duane said as he and Moses halted at the fence and peered through. Distantly, he could see now that the mysterious structure in the woods was at least a hundred yards long, flat-topped and black as coal except from narrow shafts of light that came from its windows. “And look at the light coming out of the roof.” That was, indeed, the most peculiar feature of this place they had discovered. From a section of the roof near the center, as though through a skylight, a great white light came out, illuminating the slanting rain and the bending trees.
Nobody had heard the report of a pistol. There had been no disturbance; in fact, no audible altercation, no startling cry for help, or even a groan of sudden, terrible distress. The man lay there as motionless, nevertheless, as if felled by a thunderbolt. His life had been snuffed out like the flame of a candle by the fury of a whirlwind. Death had come upon him like a bolt from the blue. By slow degrees his face underwent a change—but it was not the change that ordinarily follows sudden death, that peaceful calm that marks the end of earthly toil and trouble. Instead, the smoothly shaven skin seemed to shrink and wither slightly over the dead nerves and lifeless muscles, and a singular slaty hue that was hardly perceptible settled around his lips and nostrils, partly dispelling the first deathly pallor. It was as if the blast from a furnace, or the searing touch of a fiery hand, had withered and parched it. He was a comparatively young man, not over thirty, and he was fashionably clad in a plaid business suit. He was lying flat on his back on the floor of the second-story corridor of a building known as the Waldmere Chambers, in the city of Madison. Presently the door of one of the several adjoining rooms was opened and a stylish young woman emerged. She was clad for the street, and lingered to lock the door and put the key in her leather hand bag. Then she turned, and her gaze fell upon the prostrate man, several yards away and nearer the broad stairway leading down to the lower floor and the street door. “Good heavens! Is he drunk?” she gasped, shrinking involuntarily.
Originally pubished November 13, 1897, here is issue #46 of the famous Nick Carter Weekly. This ebook contains the complete Nick Carter novel THE GOLD WIZARD, or Nick Carter's Clever Protege.
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