Ch. 12Pelops belched loudly, then yawned as he swung his feet to the floor. He winced as a sharp twinge of pain in his groin reminded him of the skirmish with Marty. Rising from the bunk, he went to the door of the hut. He flung it open, stretched his arms wide, and inhaled an enormous draught of the cold, winter morning air. As he stood gulping down each crisp lungful, he surveyed the Essex coastline. He noted with some satisfaction the wisps of light, fair-weather cloud. It was Friday, the day of the heist, and bad weather, though not catastrophic, would not be ideal.
After a cold, bracing shower, he donned his freshly-washed apparel and dutifully prepared himself a huge breakfast of German sausage and black bread. Once his belly was filled with sufficient sustenance to drive his body’s
