The Novgorod diary makes its debut

My first book with Wings, the Novgorod diary came out in August.
This is what it is all about…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.
~ Novgorod Diary ~
by
Gabriel Timar
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…