Rosa was demented.
Nothing she said made sense.
'Kill her,' said Max.
She was a lousy spy and costing Langley a fortune.
'Besides,' said Max,' she never shares.'
Rosa had a habit of calling up the team late at night and calling us fucking cowards and pussies.
You could hear her lapping up young Thai pussy.
Yet she cried poor and defended her actions, 'Come on, I'm not really that bad.'
You moaned that you were poor yet owned a house in a nice Perth suburb.
I don't think you have known suffering.
I had traveled around Malaysia and seen abject poverty.
Not with Rosa.
She got her government pension.
It was her right.
No, I'd argue, it's a privilege and if Australia had any common sense, they'd deport your ass back to Kuala Lumpur where you could live with the rats on Brickfield.
'How rude,' she responded.
Everyone was either rude, or ripping her off.
Not any more, said Max, who put a bullet in the back of her head.
'A stark raving lunatic who was feeding our operations to her brother in Australia who worked for the Australian Intelligence Services.'
Nothing would surprise me.
