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LEMON JUICE KING

Rafael told him he'd made up his mind. 'I'm gonna help the guy, he's my friend.'

'Okay, I'll give you the pills, but if they fuck it up, I'll take the cash out of your kilo here.' Chino couldn't lose, but Rafael could.

A couple of days later, one of Chino's soldiers met with Rafael on the busy beach esplanade in Legian. Surrounded by tourists, sunbaking and strolling, they did the exchange, quick and slick. Their bikes were side-by-side, engines still running, as Chino's man passed Rafael the benign-looking bag of 20,000 ecstasy pills. Rafael quickly slipped it into the storage space under his seat and tore off to Marco's room at Bali Village, just around the corner.

They didn't have long. The fighter was leaving that night and wanted to pack it himself. But his method was slapdash and dangerous. Rafael and Marco watched him haphazardly stuff the plastic bags of pills into his Lycra bike shorts, then pull a pair of shorts over the top. 'I don't think it's good, do you?' the fighter asked.

Rafael jumped up, patting down the fighter's naturally big thighs, now resembling gigantic balloons. 'You're right. You're going to go straight to jail.'

Drug dealer Andre soon arrived. He wasn't part of this deal, but offered to help. The fighter asked his opinion. 'Are you crazy, man? You think this is a kid's game?' Andre knelt down, pulling down the fighter's pants, and quickly started repacking his legs. But the beefy prizefighter was now losing his nerve.

I start to tape the plastic bags of ecstasy on his leg and the guy starts to shake and sweat. Totally scared. Totally. Marco says to him, 'Look,

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