Word gets around pretty fast.

After the riff-raff were dined, they were booted out.

'Take care of my street,' said the manager.

'And take care of my turf,' said Frank Russel.

It was good to take care of them.

Once a week he'd spend up big and feed his followers.

They would always watch his back.

'You cunt,' said a voice.

Frank was outside having a smoke.

He needed the fresh air. It was nearing midnight.

Then he felt a knife on his throat.

'You double-crossing bastard.'

It had to be the French man.

Who else could it be, thought Frank.

'This could be your last move,' said Frank.

'And this could be your last breath.'

Pedro, the midget, who only moments left before Frank, was keeping a close eye on the white guy with the knife, who had a blade to Frank's throat.

Dina, Pedro's wife, another midget,  was standing near the entrance of Cafe LA. She was so tiny, that Stan couldn't see her when she pulled out an electric cattle prodder and zapped his balls.

'He's not dead, but he'll be singing Dixies in falsetto when he comes round.'

Frank believed in what Jesus preached, Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. He wasn't a religious man and kicked Stan hard between the balls.

"That's for using my passport,' another kick, ' and that's for faking your death and the heartaches you left along the way.'

Send him onto the next flight to Brown Sugar, said Frank to an undercover intelligence officer. 'And make sure he's blacklisted.' Frank bent down and pulled out his passport from the Frenchman's pocket. .

'Serves the froggy right,' he said. To show his contempt, but some would say mercy, he opened up his fly and pissed over Stan.

'I would have killed him there and then,' said Kumar, who appeared from nowhere. 'Did you know that he killed a bloke in Thailand and dumped him down in the Chayao Praya river.'

No, he didn't.

Stan was coming around and grabbing his balls, that were no doubt toast.

'Would you like him to be a floaty down at Manila Bay,' asked the undercover intelligence office.

Frank was tempted but having the frog wash back up bloated on Manila Bay just made him squirmish.

'Better still,' he replied, ' contact the Australian Embassy and send him back to Oz, I'm sure they'd love to question him. Make sure he's got that bag of fake currency on him when he gets on that plane.'

'I'll pay you off,' said Stan, 'I'll pay you off.'

What?

' It was only a plastic knife, I was only fucking with you. '

Frank picked up the knife from the ground, it was indeed a plastic knife.

Who would have thought that the French man could be so bold?

Send him to Mindanao, in the Southern Philipines, Frank eventually said to the intelligence officer. 'And if you manage to behead a few Abu Sayyaf shit heads then maybe Duterte might be lenient and let you return to Brown Sugar. '

Bad move, said Kumar, he's going to want revenge, and get that money back you stole from him.

How about I just write him out of the story, thought Frank, would be one less shit head to worry about.

Or, let Suyin Wong sort him out. Now there was an idea.

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