She said: ‘Give it to me now, Fatman. Give it to me. Now.’ They were in bed. ‘I deal in antiquity not in now,’ Simberdy replied. ‘But I’ll stretch a point for you.’ He kissed her breasts. ‘Yes, stretch your point for me,’ Olive said. They began to giggle, but not fatally. ‘God, but we’re a pair of rogues,’ Simberdy said. ‘Supposed to have done half the art thefts in the world, including Japan. It’s flattering, but I felt damn twitchy with those two and George at the Hulliborn.’ ‘You don’t feel twitchy now.’ ‘I’ve never had a gang moll before.’ But he saw that Olive had left jokiness and fantasy behind and was concentrating on reality. And why not? The realities were pretty fine. Afterwards, when they were lying quietly, (Simberdy, a little anxiously, trying to bring down his heartbeat by willpower to at least below 300 a minute), they heard a car draw up near the house. A door slammed, and then there came the sound of running feet, approaching and later receding out of earshot.
