Fire in a Haystack: A Thrilling Novel (Legal Mystery Book Book 1) Read Free

senior partner, Gideon Geller, announcing ceremoniously in one of the general staff members meetings, “Let this simple rule always guide you—in our office, no service request, large or small, should ever be refused.”
    Less than fifteen minutes later, they sat in front of a pile of dancing boobs and twisting bodies gleaming with sweat at the Paradise Club in the Ramat Gan Diamond Exchange District.
    Rodety immediately got rid of his jacket and hung it in the darkened entrance hall of the club, feeling right at home. They made themselves comfortable in an isolated sitting area. The dim candlelight was enough for them to notice everything around them was dark red—the furniture, the carpets, the sofas and the drapes. Rodety fished a bundle of greenish bills from his pocket and invited two dancers, one dark and one fair, to sit with them. Their buttocks were adorned with tiny G-strings and their breasts, Zionist or not, were about to explode from their bras. The two young hostesses invested some extra attention in their capering and gyrating, which became more and more teasing and steaming as the bundle of bills in Rodety’s pocket dwindled.
    “Son, let’s drink some whiskey,” Rodety suggested.
    “I’m not so good at drinking whiskey,” Ofer apologized, “gives me heartburn.”
    “I guess you never suckled it from the right breast. Without knowing something about whiskey, you won’t be able to accomplish anything in the world,” Rodety hurriedly explained. He rose, went to the entrance hall and came back with his jacket.
    He drew a small silver flask from his jacket’s inner pocket and took a long sip. “This is fine whiskey, trust me. Eighteen-year-old single malt Glenfiddich Scotch whiskey. Made just a short time after you were born. It’s been waiting ever since for this festive moment in an oak barrel. You’ve never tasted anything like this in your life. It’s not really alcohol, it’s a medicine,” Rodety explained his entire viewpoint about the drink he always carried so close to his heart.        
    Rodety’s insistent pleas continued. Ofer felt uncomfortable refusing him. “All right, I’ll take your word for it, if you insist.” He took a sip from the expensive-looking flattened flask. Heat waves immediately spread throughout his body.
    “This is really something else. A pleasant surprise. It’s hard to believe such a small bottle can contain such a great pleasure,” said Ofer.
    A wide smile of contentment spread across Rodety’s satisfied face. “Oh… nice… now you’ve learned the secret. A fine whiskey doesn’t burn, it warms you up. Like a miniature candle that spreads a nice fire in your intestines. Like cooking on a kerosene burner.”
    Ofer had to admit he wasn’t especially suffering. All the dancers, the ones who danced next to the bar and the ones beside them, now appeared prettier, perfectly built and filled with desire, and he found himself enjoying the occasional fluttering touch of Zionist breasts on his face and shoulders.
    “Tell me, kid, aren’t you the son of the late Mordechai Angel?” Rodety suddenly became serious. He motioned for the two girls to leave them. A quick spark flashed through his pupils. He cleared his throat a bit.
    Rodety’s question had landed Ofer right back onto the solid ground of reality. “Yes, that’s me,” Ofer immediately admitted. “Did you know him?”
    “Of course,” he said, “of course. I knew him through and through. He was an exceptional man.”
    “Yes, I know.” Tears choked Ofer’s throat as he recalled his father.
    “How’s your mother?”
    “She’s fine, you know how it is…she’s coping.”
    “Yes, yes, I know,” said Rodety. “She’s something else, your mother.” 
    Ofer stared at Rodety who returned to taking long drafts from the spout of his personal flask. A sudden illumination caused him to recognize the man who was now sitting in front of him, the man who drank and joked around with him.