The Truant Officer by Derek Ciccone Read Free Book Online

couldn’t bring a piece of Americana with him.
    He kissed Natalie on her puffy lips. She returned the kiss, but it lacked any hint of love or attraction. He sensed that it was a kiss of gratitude. Natalie was young, but she was street-smart, and like himself, she understood how to mix love and business to get to the top.
    Viktor had become intimate with many of his protégés over the years. He even married pop star Maria DeMaio when she was only nineteen. But Natalie was special, and he didn’t have to be Freud to figure out why.
    She was a replica of Paula—the one true love of his life. He could still shut his eyes and relive the first time he heard the curvaceous beauty sing at his Brooklyn club, Sarvy’s. She sang like an angel—a voice he’d never heard equaled until he found Natalie singing outside of that bookstore.
    The limo drove away, knocking a few protestors off along the way. They traveled through the Western Wall Tunnel, then down the cobblestone streets and out of the ancient city. About an hour later they arrived in Tel Aviv, a much more modern city than Jerusalem, and preferred by Viktor. He opened a Sarvy Music office in Tel Aviv a couple years back. It was located amongst a north-south strip of skyscrapers crowded along the coast of the Mediterranean Sea.
    As the early afternoon sun shone into the limo, Viktor placed his hand on Natalie’s fishnet-covered thigh. He felt her shudder at his touch, despite her forced smile. Good thing she was a singer and not an actress, he thought. He liked it when those around him felt a sense of fear.
    “Remember that we have an important dinner guest tonight.”
    Natalie nodded attentively.
    He handed her a box wrapped with a bow. “I think you should wear this tonight. I believe it will make a good impression on our company.”
    She opened the package to reveal a sequined gown. She kissed him on the cheek and exclaimed, “It’s beautiful. You are so generous to me.”
    “And tomorrow you will be flying to the States for your video premiere,” Viktor continued, all business.
    “I wish you could come with me.”
    He smiled at the lie. “You know I can’t risk that right now—with the trial starting next week. But I do have something I want you to deliver to Alexei for me,” he said, not providing any details.
    “Of course.”
    Viktor ordered his driver to stop in Ramat HaSharon, a suburb northeast of Tel Aviv, to accommodate his desire to stop at his favorite Russian bookstore—the same one he had discovered Natalie outside of. This wasn’t a nostalgic trip, he wanted to buy a stack of his favorite Russian crime novels. The criminal was often the hero in Russian novels, and he liked that.
    He also enjoyed visiting his old friends who ran the store. The Russians in Israel always stuck together. They were treated as lepers, and endured constant calls for their deportation. Russians made up only about a fifth of the Israeli population, yet were constantly blamed for establishing enclaves in the country and importing shallow values. More whining , Viktor thought—nobody had ever offered to give back the billions of dollars that Russian businessmen like himself pump into the economy.
    Viktor left a fifteen hundred dollar tip for his comrades at the bookstore. A nice payday for sharing a glass of vodka and reminiscing about their youthful days in Odessa. He also had Natalie put on an impromptu performance of her new single for the few lucky souls browsing the bookshelves. Viktor had always been known as a benevolent don who held honor above cruelty. Unlike his predecessor, a man who was feared but not respected, Viktor was showered with gifts and held in great esteem within the community—a community that had spread across the globe—but they also knew not to cross him.
    They left the bookstore and drove toward Netanya, a coastal city halfway between Tel Aviv and Haifa, where Viktor owned a magnificent cliffside palace that overlooked the Mediterranean