Diego Rivera Night of the RichLeroy Neiman FemlinUnknown Artist Abstract Autumn by Dougall
walked across it. It was hard to drown in the Ankh, but easy to suffocate.
Mort , which he waved in little circles in the air. He advanced slowly towards Mort, while the other two hung back to provide immoral support.
'Give us the money,' he rasped.
Mort's hand went to the bag on his belt.
'Hang on a minute,' he said. 'What happens then?'
'What?'looked at the surface doubtfully. It seemed to be moving. There were bubbles in it. It had to be water.He sighed, and turned away.Three men had appeared behind him, as though extruded from the stonework. They had the heavy, stolid look of those thugs whose appearance in any narrative means that it's time for the hero to be menaced a bit, although not too much, because it's also obvious that they're going to be horribly surprised.They were leering. They were good at it.One of them had drawn a knife