Chapter 33
The cut in Nero’s hand, on the loose skin between the thumb and index finger, drew a pool of blood that he dabbed away with a tissue. Frank parted behind the skin with the sterilised tweezers and attempted to grip onto the microchip with the tiny pincers without success.
“Jesus, go easy, you got it yet?” Nero was taking in sharp breaths as Frank rooted around under the skin. Frank shot him a glance without moving his head, “I didn’t exactly volunteer for this—”
Rhodes, standing back from the table, chimed in. “Sorry, Frank, I would have tried, but the old peepers aren’t the same as they used to be.”
“I’ll get this, don’t worry,” Frank grunted. With another bite, he managed to get the object in the grasp of the tweezers and began easing it out of the blood, millimetre by mill
