" Well," he continued, trying not to focus on Dirk being stretched acrosshis lap, and the unwanted contact between their bodies. "Twenty-fourmight be...better. Two dozen. Kind of a more even... or common...number." His voice faded on the last word, as if he didn't know what hispoint was.Belle gave an elaborate shrug to signal her acceptance, like she waspuzzled by his words but was accepting them out of sufferance. Sheadded, "You have to know your target, Malvina. So, take a good feel. This was only to be expected. The girl was so fucking unreliable! But Esther decided that it wasn’t a good idea to wait, or the potatoes would get burnt and the vegetables too soggy. So the party adjourned to the dining room section of the living room, while Zoë slipped on a Nitin Sawhney album she thought would better suit the ambiance than fucking Armand Van Helden. It was only when the plates were set out and forks and knives were poised to tuck in, that the sitar sounds were interrupted by. More

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