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This is a piquant, science fiction spoof of the sacred cows of the twenty-first century. It seems someone tries stealing 350 million high quality Russian souls from Hades Limited, by electing the wrong man to the Kremlin. An old diary exists in Novgorod proving Nick Rubowski, a high-ranking KGB officer, the Hades candidate, being the rightful heir to the Russian throne. If this became public, he'd lose the election. Therefore, Luce (Lucifer), the Hades Limited CEO sends George to Earth, to protect the firm's interests by fixing the Russian elections. The CIA, the KGB, the royalists and the mafia have adverse interests, and George must negotiate.
As far as terrestrials are concerned, I am dead. My grateful ex-wife, after collecting my life insurance and taking possession of my assets, had an elegant black, marble headstone erected for me in Mount Pearl Cemetery, near the City of St. John’s in Newfoundland. Anyway, this was the least she could have done for me.
How did my ex-wife get hold of my fortune? It was easy. As a lawyer, I always advised my clients to review their last will the moment their divorce becomes final. Yes, you guessed right; I forgot to check my last will. It did not matter anyway, because my father was well off and had no need of the money, and I had no other relatives.
The events leading to my death were quite interesting. I hate to admit it: I made a stupid mistake.
The mistake was Lynn, a girl with the most beautiful derriere I’ve ever seen on a woman. She was an air hostess, and I did not realize that in addition to yours truly she regularly entertained Randy Bertozzi, the local representative of the Mafia in St. John’s. Although Randy claimed to be monogamous, he treated Lynn and about five other air hostesses as his private property. Under the circumstances, he figured I was an intruder, and in his world, trespassers were shot.
The last things I remember about my life on Earth are the suntanned, streamlined, naked body of Lynn, the report of a gun, the bullet hole in the wood paneling, and my blood spilling on the white carpet next to the black towel. I did not see the shooter.
I slowly started slipping into oblivion. I don’t know what part of my body or intellect staged the fight for survival. Was it a motor reflex, the nervous system, or perhaps an automatic reaction of my mind? Could it have been my immortal spirit wanting to hang on to its shell? I don’t know, and possibly nobody knows.
I was completely immersed in the fight to regain my faculties, and for the time being, I was winning, stopping at the opaque brink of consciousness. It took all my strength to maintain the status quo. I did not dare use any of my energies for thinking, because if I diverted even an infinitesimally small portion of my powers to reasoning, I would slip into the dark hole of oblivion from where, I was sure, there was no return.
Just as an arm-wrestler gives way when overpowered by the strength of a vastly superior opponent, I was pushed over the brink by a great surge of power, and suddenly a piercing beam of white light painfully penetrated my field of perception. It was mercifully short, and my marginal existence in the opaque world exploded into a kaleidoscope of pleasing colors. There was no need to fight, think, or resist. My exhausted spirit relaxed. I was curiously satisfied, even though I knew I had died.
Suddenly, my miserable existence changed again; someone started playing games with me. The sharp boundaries of the lively colors slowly faded into pastel washes, like a comforting cloak covering my field of perception. My mind broke free, and I could think again!
At this point, I realized my ex-wife, Joan, would claim my investment account in addition to the half-a-million-dollar life insurance. As I could not take any money with me wherever I was headed, I did not really care. The only thing bothering me was the thought of having to pass up a date with Helen Cooper, the singer pianist at the Starlight Club and the most beautiful--and least approachable woman I’ve ever encountered. It took me a long time to persuade her to date me. Now, I realized that I’d wasted a lot of money and energy chasing her.
Well, George, I thought, you win some and lose most. As you don’t have anything little Helen would appreciate, it doesn’t matter.
Unexpectedly, I sensed a presence of someone trying to talk to me!
There is a woman in the vicinity, I thought.
Born in Hungary in 1932, a cadet at the elite military school of Nagykaroly during World War II, Gabriel Timar studied civil engineering at the Budapest University. Taking active part in the 1956 revolution, he decided to defect to the West. In the United Kingdom he worked as a structural designer. Ten months later he immigrated to Canada and worked as an engineer. After seven years, he got his first contract in Asia. For the next twenty-odd years he worked in Africa, Asia and the South Pacific as a consulting engineer, chief executive officer, United Nations environmental engineering advisor and finally as a professor.
In 1982 he married, returned to Canada with his Hungarian wife, and taught environmental engineering at Seneca College in Toronto. In 1994 he retired as the Chair of the School of Civil and Resources Engineering Technology. All his life he enjoyed writing novels, articles, and plays both in English and Hungarian. From 1997 he regularly contributed articles to Kanadai Magyarság, the largest North American Hungarian language weekly under the pseudonym Gabor Bendeguz. In 2000, his novel A Bardán kapcsolat was nominated for the Zsoldos award, recognizing the year's best Hungarian sci-fi.
In 2004, his novel Hades Connection, another sci-fi was published in the USA. In 2005, Helikon Kiadó launched his historical novel, Hősök vagy bűnösök in Budapest. In 2006, Assassins' Club, a thriller was published in the USA, and Menni vagy maradni in Hungary by Kairosz Kiadó. In 2007, his latest Hungarian language novel, A fegyverek árnyékában was published by Püski Kiadó. An adventure story, Air Mogadishu, published in July 2008, and another sci-fi, Novgorod diary reached the North American market a month later.
He also wrote several manuals and college textbooks published by the Province of Ontario, Seneca College, United Nations and the University of Malawi. Occasionally, he accepts consulting engineering assignments.
Book Publisher: Wings e Press
No. of Pages: 309
Paper Weight (lb): 12.8
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