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... tates of America, somewhere in the quiet suburbs on the outskirts of a city. A black saloon car gliding smoothly on a certain road finally arrived at its destination – a small, but cosy and inviting house, with a red roof.
Tap, tap, tap.
The ones climbing out of the vehicle was the Director of the CIA, David Brennan, and his two bodyguards. The director studied the red-roofed residence for a little while before issuing a new order to his underlings.
“Y ...
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