Nathan downed the last of the unpleasant, vending machine coffee he was using to keep himself awake just before he reached the ITU room holding Max Clarkwell and looked around for a bin. He found one further along the corridor and after disposing of his now empty cup he returned to the room.
He opened the door quietly so as not to disturb Clarkwell, but quickly realised that he didn’t need to be so cautious since nothing short of a bomb, and perhaps not even that, was going to disturb him.
“How is he?” Nathan asked of the figure in the corner of the room.
“Not good,” Mason said without making any attempt to move from his slouched position. “If he was younger, he’d probably stand a better chance, but he’s an old fart, so the odds are against him.” He saw the look on Nathan’s face and ass
