In a minute, Martha thought, I’m gonna lose my shit altogether.
The patronising clerk looked over her designer spectacles at the shabby elderly lady and sighed.
“These security questions are…” then her voice was drowned out by klaxons and the crash of falling steel barriers.
Martha felt an arm across her throat, and something cold pressed to her temple.
“Back off, or the old dear gets it.”
‘Old dear’ was the final straw – and Martha did lose her shit.
It’s not a good idea to take a hostage with a Glock in her pocket and no compunction about using it.
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