The A&E section of the hospital was busier than Marco had anticipated. Real flesh tended to by fake.
‘Can I help?’ The nurse within the reception booth beckoned. Her crimson gaze, doe-eyed and welcoming, was already conducting retinal scans. Matching Marco against the corporate database.
‘No, you can’t, not now.’
Marco stepped back, pulling apart his jacket. Revealing the plastic explosives strapped to his stomach. Trembling fingers retrieved the detonator.
‘Sir?’ For Marco the synthetic nurse's expression was an unconvincing representation of concern.
‘My wife, years spent ... lost her job here … dead now.’
Marco pressed the button.