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Robert awoke, sweat was dripping from his forehead and the rope that tied him to the wooden chair was cutting into his skin. His Walther PPK was sitting on a dusty wooden table in the centre of the room and the only beam of light that could sneak in through thick wooden shutters illuminated the table, taunting him about his inability to complete his mission. He knew it would not be long before some Soviet General or SMERSH operative came bursting through the door, to pick up the PPK and shoot him in the head. The thought of his death did not loiter in his mind for long, it stepped aside to make way for the thought of what his fianc