As George looked down at the patient lying dead in front of him in the hospital ward, he knew he was in trouble. He had overdosed the patient on anaesthetic when all he needed was an ingrown toenail removed. The procedure itself had been simple enough, but the patient's vitals had gradually deteriorated until he flatlined. Experienced doctors shouldn't make mistakes.

The patient was Filipo Altobelli, a well known member of the mob terrorising most of Las Vegas. Sweat poured from George's brow, heart thumping in his chest like a festival band. He felt his anus tighten and he started to shake as he was overwhelmed by his own futile nervousness.

The door flew open and two Italian Americans in suits imposed the light eagerly pushing through, their shadows oppressing the equipment. One raised his arm, holding a small pistol. George felt his bowells give way and the smell of feces overwhelmed the sanitary hospital ward. Last thing he heard was a gunshot as his skull and blood spattered the back wall.

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