Traffyck Read Online Free

problems,” said the cigarette smoker. “In any case, what you do with your Natashas and Nikolais is your business. My concern is security and corruption in Kiev. With this in mind, tonight’s visit will be my final trip here.”
    “Certainly,” said the tall silver-haired man. “I do not expect a man in your position to take unnecessary risk. We’ll still be able to accommodate your special needs.”
    The cigarette smoker coughed uncomfortably, then said, “We’re getting off track. How do you justify the presence of four young people to the others now that your storm troopers have dragged them here?”
    “Perhaps you would have shipped them to Turkey,” said the bearded heavyset man.
    “Submitting to the demand of the market,” added the tall silver-haired man. “We once sent older girls to Turkey because they know how to control them, and boys we sent to—”
    “Do not assume what I would do!” shouted the smoker. “You do not see what happens to the girls when they are gone! I accuse you both … No! We are all three guilty! We ship our blonds via the Balkan Trail to Bedouins so they can smuggle them through the desert in order that Israelis have their vengeance for the Holocaust!” The smoker coughed up phlegm and spit off to the side. “Israelis want our girls so their young men will not rape their own girls!” He coughed up more phlegm and spit, then spoke more quietly, but still in anger. “Pyotr Alexeyevich, my concern is your lack of discipline and how this complicates matters!”
    The tall silver-haired man spoke in a steady but firm voice. “If you have been offended, I apologize. The past is the past. I agree we share the guilt. We’ve made our decision, and since I am responsible for discipline here, I will deal with it appropriately.”
    “How?” asked the bearded heavyset man.
    “I will assign a mentor to each. If necessary, we use light doses of medication.”
    The cigarette smoker was still angry. “And I suppose when the hair in their armpits grows long enough, they’ll become good little soldiers like the rest, with you, Pyotr, as their messiah! You once said, ‘Like Mr. Bill Gates, we develop one copy and sell it again and again.’ You treat teenagers like computer software!”
    The man named Pyotr ran a hand through his silver hair. “At least I admit past mistakes. At least here the ones who have not gone down the Balkan Trail escape abuse in back rooms by politicians and religious leaders who are chauffeured about Kiev in Zils and Bentleys!”
    There was an uncomfortable silence. Out in the woods surrounding the compound, insects and small reptiles sang what sounded like a dirge in a minor key. Eventually the smoker smashed his cigarette butt in an ashtray. “We consider ourselves an indestructible troika. Out here in the dark so we can’t look one another in the eye.”
    “Has anyone found them yet?” asked the bearded heavyset man.
    “Who?” asked the cigarette smoker, still smashing the butt.
    “The filmmakers in the Romanian mountains.”
    “No. But it can’t be long before the stench reaches the road. What is next on your agenda, Pyotr? Weren’t the clinics enough? Would it not be best to confine your actions to—”
    “No!” shouted the silver-haired man.
    The bearded heavyset man sighed, “Turmoil demands a cooling off period, Pyotr. Even though I am Orthodox, dressing boys as Catholic priests was unwise.”
    “Did you both come here to confront me?” asked the silver-haired man.
    The cigarette smoker lit another, took a deep drag, said, “My men on the left bank are nervous about the comings and goings and theatrics of your people. You’ve had most of the ammunition moved onto the peninsula, and my men wonder who has the key to the armory.”
    “Only myself, Vasily, and Ivan have keys,” said the silver-haired man. “I would be more concerned about your lungs than life here on the peninsula. I saw you sneaking a smoke on Kiev television while