Fox leans back in the bamboo recliner and quietly surveys the sunset. Itís high tide on the beach, a light breeze blows through the palm trees. Bright orange sun speckles glint off the rhythmic lapping waves. Fox looks off in the distance. His busty temporary girlfriend, Shawna, is trying to get his attention, "Oh Fox, you are such a man!" Fox doesnít hear her. He thinks of distant political intrigues and his recent escape from Nepal where he was attacked by 32 barefooted master ninja killers who almost had him cornered against a sheer Himalayan ice cliff. He takes one last puff on his expensive Cartier cigarette, coughs and crushes it out.
Shawna wants to know when sheíll get to see him again and where theyíre going next. She wishes they could go back to Paris for another shopping trip. She so enjoyed having a Coke and donut beneath the Eiffel Tower and buying Nikes from a street vendor near the Arch de Triumph. Fox thinks he spots a distant periscope on the waters. Perhaps his old adversaries have purchased a former Soviet submarine and have at last tracked him down, or maybe a Third World government wishes to contact him surreptitiously to help save their failing country. One could never tell. But this time it turned out to be just a bird sitting on the waters.
Itís Sunday evening. Fox tells Shawna that a chopper will arrive soon. Heís got to go back to Portland to maintain his cover assignment as a software tester. They all believe his cover story there, he muses. Just a quiet tester going about his business. No links to the British government. A few intermittent laughs about Swiss Army knives. ...Little do they know... Fox doesnít hear it, but Shawna is pleading to accompany him to the US, just once. She promises sheíll do just anything, anything he wants! Even that special bikini dance which he seems to favor when heís in those certain moods. But Fox is recalling his work behind the scenes in single-handedly bringing down the Berlin Wall. Yeah, the political leaders took their bows and claimed credit - but Fox remembers what really happened: The motorcycle chase on top of moving freight trains, beautiful women, lots of gunfire, an oil refinery explosion, more beautiful women, a secret diplomatic pouch - and Agent Fox Staubest saving the day!
Meanwhile back at Scotland Yard Winston angrily slams his fist down on the table, "No!, we need the best for this one. Get me Fox Staubest!"
Fox instinctively tightens and slightly cocks his ear to the side. Soon the birds look startled, and then catch flight all at once, and a few seconds later people nearby begin to hear the sound of distant chopper blades from over the mountain behind cutting through the evening calm. He grabs his gin and tonic and slams it back. He sets the empty glass onto the table. "Cheryl", Fox says, "...the life of a secret agent-" She interrupts him, "Iím Shawna." Fox, "Yes, of course. I was momentarily distracted." She doesnít seem to mind. Fox continues, "I probably wonít be able to see you for some time.... You see-" His satellite phone rings. He picks it up. "Hello Fox, this is Winston. Iím afraid itís urgent! I need you to come to London as soon as you get off work on Monday evening - or the fate of the entire free world will be in jeopardy!" Just then the chopper arrives, slows, and hovers just off the beach sands nearby. Fox stands and briefly addresses Shawna before heading for it, phone in hand, "So, err... Cher-, Shaw- err, ..young lady, till we meet again...." He kisses her hand - and heís off.