You storm into an office. You shout, rant and rave at a man sat behind a desk, and slam down a letter. You have resigned your job with British intelligence. You storm out of the office. You drive back to your home through the streets of central London in your Lotus Seven, followed by a black hearse. Inside, you collect your passport, an airline ticket and two suitcases. You must leave quickly. An undertaker enters the house. Gas is pumped into the room through the keyhole. Skyscrapers spin, you fall backwards...
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