by Frank Russel
Wan was handcuffed, duct taped and choppered over to Singapore.
They would show no mercy.
The Indonesian government didn't want to be accused of the Muslims killing the Muslims, so preferred the Mandarins up north to dish out their own justice.
Indonesia couldn't afford a standoff with Singapore.
The fact that they owned the island was a moot point.
They needed the Singaporean investment and sex tourists to prop up their economy.
'Is the lecture over,' said Caramel, who was gyrating into my groin.
I said it was over and that we should head back to Bintan Island where I knew a hotel that had room service.
'We can kick back over a club sandwich and HBO.'
Caramel knew what I was getting at and jumped on the back of the jet ski as I full throttled it to the hotel which had it's own mooring.
I called up Jack.
He was happy with the outcome and said that all I needed to do was pick up the key at the Garuda Hotel.
'Oh, Cindy and Novi will be keeping the bed warm for you.'
He said that Max was back in East Java.
'I need him to train up a few new recruits.'
I was eternally grateful, I said and hung up.
The receptionist was expecting me.
They could very well have called this hotel Hooter Ville.
She was eying off Caramel.
Women are always sizing up each other's tits.
'I bet mine are bigger,' said Ekka.
I guess she was part of the welcome party and I'd make sure I call her up and ask for a few more blankets.
'That would be fine,' said Ekka, who handed me the key.
I smiled.
Her big boobs twitched under her tight white blouse.
I guess if boobs could smile that was it.
I snapped out of my booby reverie when her sweet voice spoke.
'But you'll be asking for more than blankets by the time I'm done with you, ' she said, as another big titted receptionist arrived behind the counter, 'I'm knocking off and would love to watch some HBO over a club sandwich.'
Fatigue was setting in. I needed shut-eye.
It's hard work being an international man of mystery.
Then Caramel dragged me to my room.
Saved by the bell.
Sleep wasn't far away now.
Work hard, sleep hard, isn't that the saying?
I put on Stevie Nicks' Free Fallin for atmosphere and started counting.
One fun bag, two fun bag.... soon I'd be snoring.
While I was having an orgy fest at Hooter Ville Hotel, Wan Mohammed was begging for mercy.
The Triad had him dangling out of a helicopter.
They always needed cigarette smugglers.
The Singaporean government turned a blind eye on the Triad's activities on the island state so long as they continued protecting Singapore from terrorists.
Wan Mohammed could be a good informer.
Jack said to put the fear in him and let him live.
'He might be useful for us in the future.'
Jack had a mission involved penetrating a Malaysian NGO organization that funded the poor and starving Southern Thailand insurgents, who needed money to make homemade bombs.
'If we can take down the frontman working in the slums of Bangkok, we might see a reduction of bombings,' he said, in the briefing, faxed through to me at the hotel.
The other big titted receptionist knocked on my door and said she had a fax for me.
There were no problems with the information being moved on to other interested parties. Jack and I owned this hotel. It was a safe house after all.
Now what is your name, I asked.
Matilda, she said.
'Now could you get us some fresh coffee and fruit,' I asked.
I had a big day ahead of me.
Matilda was wearing a maid's outfit with white frills here and there.
I know I was getting my cheap thrills looking at her voluptuous D cup boobs bulging out of her white dress shirt. Even her long thick dark erect nipples were yelling out, Suck Me. She wasn't wearing a bra, god bless her.
But she was just stunning. A wonderful smile and a kind of face you wanted to see on the end of your cock.
But I'd be needing to rest.
I was drained.
I'd have to pay her a visit next time I was down here.
Minutes later, she came back with the coffee.
As she bent down to place the coffee on the table, I got a nice glimpse under her frilly skirty.
She was wearing pink panties. Silk. And I could see her camel toe.
I loved Bintan but we had a flight to Bangkok to take. We'd have to be out of here in an hour and early afternoon we'd arrive at Dong Muang airport.
Missions, do they ever end?
Curse you Jack.
I got a call from Max this time.
'Hey buddy,' he said, I could hear some Chinese in the background, 'I'm in Singapore now.'
There was a change of plan and I was grateful for that.
I said to Max I'd take Matilda with me.
'She needs to be broken in,' I said, and Max was all for it. He wanted to break her in too.
Matilda said she was fond of Singapore.
I said I'd be very fond of it too if she would care to come along with me.
I left Cindy, Novi and Caramel at the Love Hotel with a wad of US dollars and said don't party too hard.
I know they'd miss me but money did things to gals that love couldn't.
Abdul spoke fluent English.
But he communicated in Malaysian.
He was the new generation of Malaysians that were attracted to a Pan Malay race.
First, they would reclaim their three southern provinces in Thailand, then Singapore. Indonesia was their ultimate prize. They were a corrupt race, thought Abdul, who gave Islam a bad name.
The women are nothing but dirty whores.
He even dressed like a Mohammedan, it was fashionable in some provinces of Malaysia, to wear a cotton dress, eyeliner, and a funny hat.
They couldn't fool me for one moment. They were still degenerate Malays who were still smarting being under British rule.
The open water to Singapore was muy tranquila.
Jack had arranged for a racing speedboat.
What normally takes 90 minutes by a fast ferry only took 15 minutes by this monster.
I had radar and I wasn't concerned about any floaties.
At the speed I was going, the speed bump would get us airborne and even cut the travel time to Singapore.
The noise was spectacular.
People would talk about this for years to come.
The rich and famous wanted a boat just like mine.
We were reaching 350 kilometers an hour.
This was flying but the route was the 30 kilometer stretch of the Singapore Straits.
If you are going to travel, then do it this way.
Matilda was hugging for her dear life.
I encouraged it.
Waiting at Clarkson Quay was Max.
Singapore Immigration was waiting for me and wished me good luck.
'Singapore is indebted to you,' said Duncan, the senior of the waiting party.
They even gave us bottles of Pierre drinking water.
My reputation was getting ahead of itself.
I'll catch that scum bag, I said, as Max escorted me to a hired car.
My heart wasn't into taking down Abdul.
I knew he was down here for a visa.
If I took him down, he'd only be replaced by another asswipe.
I had a better idea.
I'd follow him into Southern Thailand and catch him out.
If the Thai military knew what he was up to, I really wouldn't want to be around to find out what they'd do to him.
I suppose he could say he was only making an insurance claim.
'We bombed the 7-11 so that th
e owner could get a payout and a new shop.'
I had heard of stuff being taken out of premises before they were bombed.
And I had seen new hotels being built after being bombed.
It was a way to upgrade and blame it on the Muslims.
'We'll never know what is going on down there,' said Caramel.
I think the bar girls know what's going on, I said.
'They always know what's going on,'said Max who was driving to Geylang, Singapore's red light district.
I was tempted to tell him to continue until we reached Johor Baru.
I thought you'd say that, said Max.
Johor Baru, it was one of my favorite Malaysian cities.
I got a call from Jack.
He sounded angry.
'Get that cocksucker.'
He said Abdul had taken an Air Asia flight to Pasir Mas and that he'd be entering Thailand illegally where he was meeting up with Wan Mohammed (our mole) who was acting as a front man for the Narathiwat Liberation Front.
Max returned back to Clarkson Quey.
Hooning through the streets of Singapore was a thrill within itself.
The speedboat was fueled up by Duncan, who was also tipped off by Jack that we'd need full tanks for the 2-hour ride up the East Coast of Malaysia.
I knew the boat could reach speeds of up to 400 kilometers per hour.
The water was still completely flat.
I have no idea why the conditions were so favorable but the monster boat would cover the 724 kilometers in a little under two hours.
By bus, it would take almost two long days of traveling.
By the monster boat, that wouldn't need refueling, we'd arrive with plenty of time to spare.
Abdul was going to be caught red-handed.
The cock sucker.
'That's the spirit,' said Jack, then the mobile connection between us went quit.
Pekan, Kuala Dungun, Terengganu, Kelantan and with the wind in my hair, the two hours just flew.
Whenever we got airborne, the side wings would automatically extend, and we'd cover 100 kilometers in a few minutes until the boat touched water.
The CIA didn't muck around with technology.
'The boat is on loan,' said Max, who served us a round of gin and tonics.
And a good loan at that.
Caramel was being briefed and spent most of her time in the plush cabin below trying on different costumes that she'd wear while charming Abdul. His weakness was big titted whores and Caramel really looked the part, with clothes and without.
A little-motorized fishing boat was waiting for us at the mouth of the Kelantan River.
I had to give it to Jack, he was well organized.
The fisherman exchanged boats and we were soon gunning it down the river.
Only last week Sungai Kalok was under siege.
Ten car bombs targetted select hotels run and owned by Buddhists.
The death toll was higher than reported.
A school bus of children got caught in the crossfire, all dead.
Another bus of elderly tourists, from Malaysia, most Chinese Malaysians, also were incinerated as the bus passed a police checkpoint that was booby-trapped with explosives.
Abdul was behind them all.
He was known in certain circles as the funder.
He was pretty good at the propaganda machine.
Pan Malay was his specialty.
Even the elderly old bags in the west who followed his poetry feeds believed him and helped him in the disinformation campaign.
Abdul's middle name should be carnage.
He loved Nicolas Cage films.
But he was the carnage man.
He was untouchable too.
He had behind him at least ten years of bombing in Thailand's deep south.
The Thai whores were for Malaysians alone.
The only way they could have their privacy was to scare off the white sex tourists.
Abdul promised Malaysians that they could also be pious and let off steam at the border.
'You will never be touched,' he reassured them.
The scare tactics kept the white sex tourists away from the border and allowed Malaysians the discretion they needed on their dirty weekends.
Wan Mohammed was now a born-again Christian.
He carried around a vial of holy oil.
It was a trick he learned from a writer called Vanya Vetto.
'Just put some on a Christian's forehead, say god bless, and she'll be in a trance and sucking your cock off like there is no tomorrow.'
It worked.
And no one was going to get in the way on his new lease on life.
He was going to take Abdul down to Chinatown.
He wanted the borders opened up for all whore mongers.
The Pan Malay trip would be a spent force once Wan delt his hand with Abdul in about one hour's time.
We followed the tributaries due west then headed north.
Any fisherman enjoying a quiet moment was usually given a good splashing.
It couldn't be helped.
We had a mastermind asswipe to catch.
Abdul had been immune for many years now.
His handiwork was behind the biggest bombings in Asia over the last decade.
Erawan Shrine.
Abdul use to brag about that one.
'They have no fucking idea.'
Well Max did.
'Here's our chance to take that cock sucker down.' Max looked at both me and Caramel, we were only a few kilometers from Sungkai Kalok, and the time was nigh high to make a difference.
'I think I'll try on the nurse out,' said Caramel.
I knew where this was heading.
Things could get very interesting.
I knew that Abdul would be hiding behind the skirts of the old bags, someone of them very influential in their respective governments.
But a simple block out of the internet, in this part of the world, would deprive the terrorist of oxygen.
There'd be funeral services, the body would never be found, but the slums of Bangkok would be safe from the NGO creep who had fooled most.
'But I wasn't fooled for one minute,' said Jack, who called me up. 'He's a treacherous little Malay who we should have up on sodomy charges. If Malaysia is to be saved from its extremism slippery slope, I think it's even better he disappears.'
So what's the plan, he eventually asked.
We'd be playing it by ear, I told my conjoined twin, 'but I think Wan has a few tricks up his sleeve.'
Wan also wanted to immigrate to Australia, and fuck big titted white Christians, and Jack had promised him Australian Citizenship if he pulled off this mission today.
Kalok was a great little town.
You wouldn't know you were in a war zone unless you looked closely.
'What the fuck you mean,' said Max, we were in the 7-Eleven buying up on snacks and cigs, 'have a look around you,' I did, 'it's full of fucking military.'
He did have a point.
My powers of observation are a bit slack at times.
Outside the 7-Eleven, were parked motorbikes with their seats up.
'Any idea about that Max,' I asked.
'So the military can fucking see that it hasn't got a bomb planted inside it.'
Those bombs under the seats of Honda Dreams could do a lot of damage, I said.
No sooner had I spoke, a bike across the road, near a massage parlor joint, exploded in a thousand and one pieces. The last piece ricocheted off a steal electricity pole and maimed a mangy street dog.
The yelp coming from that mutt was astounding.
'It was only a nick for Christ Sake,' said Max, who handed the cash to cashier, a Muslim wearing a hijab.
The windows of the 7-Eleven shattered as ball bearings and nails flew at us. The Thai soldiers just continued their shopping. They had flak jackets on and weren't perturbed one little bit.
This was our introduction to Kalok, and I can't say I
was disappointed.
We were here to clean up this mess.
And once Abdul was taken care of, things might just calm down.
We owed it to the population living down here.
No one needed to live in fear.
Jack had the foresight to send down Cindy, Novi, Matilda and another hand full of big titted whores, his best assassins he had been training up, who were Malay speakers and would blend in well in Kalok.
Well that was a lie. Most of the whores were Thai speaking working girls. A few of them picked up a smattering of Malay, like how much, no, not enough money, etc.
Hotel Kalok was a swinging little nightclub that had been bombed more times than it cared to count. These days it had sandbags out the front of the nightclub and barricades and razor wire.
The place was resilient and where the top military brass and leaders of various terrorist organizations fraternized. Rivalries were left out the door.
Max led Frank and Caramel out of the Kalok Hotel.
They drudged down the four flights of stairs and said hello to the Thai soldier who was chatting up the big titted and white skinned receptionist.
I pegged her from Chiang Rai.
He was moonlighting as security and he got to fuck any of the whores that passed through the hotel's doors. I just considered him a target. And if he was a target, then we were fucking targets.
'Do you like my outfit,' said Caramel.
She was dressed up as a nurse.
She was carrying a little medic bag.
Inside it, it had all kinds of goodies. syrninches, barbituates, tranquilisers, even some high grade novacaine.
I could feel an interorgation session coming on.
'He'll be inside, sitting next to Wan,' said Max.
The markets were still packed despite the recent bombings.
The population was stoic like that.
They ate every meal like it was their last and for that reason, there was very little haggling for prices. Why haggle over a bowl of rice when it could be your last?
I had never seen anything like it.
The closest would have been a sex theatre in San Francisco.
There was lap dancing, dildo shows, lesbians acts and some best I don't go into.
Lets just say that Abdul went up on stage and explored every set of mammary glands that were on glorious offer.
Wan had put a little something in his drink.
There'd more truth serum drugs later, but loose lips were sinking ships.
Max and Caramel and I were at a back table, hidden away by even darker shadows.