Mark played his microchip disabler game one more time with the spooks before he reckoned he had worn them down. He'd overheard them saying that the chip was so deeply embedded that they 'couldn't be arsed' to go through the rigmarole and potential trouble involved to get it replaced, let alone the fuss 'bloody Mark' would make.
They were now softened like butter and, provided he played his cards right, he'd be able to do what he'd planned.
The spooks wouldn't get in his way.
The balcony would be warm enough to sit out tonight. Time for a trip out!