Ewen MontaguBut the real tribute tonight goes to Iris, my brilliant wife, who in the morning sails to less troubled shores with our nestlings in tow. Iris is wiser than Solomon, stronger than Samson, and more patient than Job. But she has to be. She's married to me.
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[first lines]
Ian Fleming[narrating while typing]In any story, if it's good story, there is that which is seen, and that which is hidden. This is especially true in stories of war.
Ian FlemingThere is the war we see, a contest of bombs and bullets, courage, sacrifice, and brute force, as we count the winners, the losers, and the dead.
Ian FlemingBut along side that war, another war is waged. A battleground in shades of gray, played out in deception, seduction, and bad faith. The participants are strange. They are seldom what they seem, and fiction and reality blur. This war is a wilderness of mirrors in which the truth is protected by a bodyguard of lies. This is our war.
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[last lines]
Ewen MontaguI need to go home and finish a letter to my wife. But first, I need a drink. Let me buy you a drink.
Admiral John GodfreyMontagu and Chomondeley will run the briefing today. The operation is theirs, and being theirs, is now theirs to fuck up.
Salvador Gomez-BeareQuite a vote of confidence.
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Ewen Montagu[after attempting to photograph the corpse, only for the photos to obviously be of one]It doesn't matter what we do, Cholmondeley, he just looks deader and deader.