conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Daniel, Theres, Alexander with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'The Alexander Cipher'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first five paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Alexander Cipher
  Yusuf rested his hands on his belly. He liked to have the last word on everything. "Two weeks," he declared. "Two weeks from tomorrow. Then we'll talk again, and I'll decide whether to give you another fortnight or not."
  NESSIM PACED BACK AND FORTH in his hotel room, willing his phone to ring, for one of his sentinels to spot Knox before he could drop out of sight once more. There had to be a good chance. The simple fact that Knox had broken cover to get his belongings back suggested he was after something, that he had a purpose and was prepared to take risks in its pursuit. Yet, for all that, there was something about Knox that made Nessim feel inadequate, almost fatalistic.
  Ratib pulled a face. "But everyone will know it was us," he protested. "When Knox turns up dead, I mean."
  Nessim sighed. And Ratib had a point. "Okay," he said. "Only people you trust. One in each town. And tell them not to blab, or they'll be answering to Hassan themselves."
  BY THE TIME the Dragoumis Group's Lear jet touched down in Thessalonike that night, Gaille had decided that she could get used to traveling like this, despite the twinge of guilt she felt at all these carbon emissions for so whimsical a trip. White leather seats so comfortable they made her groan with pleasure, a window the size of a widescreen TV, a butler on hand to prepare meals and drinks, the copilot coming back to talk her through her preferred arrangements for flying back in the morning. An immigration officer came out to greet her with cloying politeness ("any friend of Mr. Dragoumis, Ms. Bonnard..."), and a chauffeur-driven blue Bentley that whisked her away up into the hills above Thessalonike just so she could sit back and admire the night sky.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about getting.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Alexander Cipher
  Yusuf rested his hands on his belly. He liked to have the last word on everything. "Two weeks," he declared. "Two weeks from tomorrow. Then we'll talk again, and I'll decide whether to give you another fortnight or not. "
  NESSIM PACED BACK AND FORTH in his hotel room, willing his phone to ring, for one of his sentinels to spot Knox before he could drop out of sight once more. There had to be a good chance. The simple fact that Knox had broken cover to get his belongings back suggested he was after something, that he had a purpose and was prepared to take risks in its pursuit. Yet, for all that, there was something about Knox that made Nessim feel inadequate, almost fatalistic. 
  Ratib pulled a face. "But everyone will know it was us," he protested. "When Knox turns up dead, I mean. "
  Nessim sighed. The stress was getting to him. And Ratib had a point. "Okay," he said. "Only people you trust. One in each town. And tell them not to blab, or they'll be answering to Hassan themselves. "
  BY THE TIME the Dragoumis Group's Lear jet touched down in Thessalonike that night, Gaille had decided that she could get used to traveling like this, despite the twinge of guilt she felt at all these carbon emissions for so whimsical a trip. White leather seats so comfortable they made her groan with pleasure, a window the size of a widescreen TV, a butler on hand to prepare meals and drinks, the copilot coming back to talk her through her preferred arrangements for flying back in the morning. An immigration officer came out to greet her with cloying politeness ("any friend of Mr. Dragoumis, Ms. Bonnard... "), and a chauffeur-driven blue Bentley that whisked her away up into the hills above Thessalonike just so she could sit back and admire the night sky.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know another paragraph?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: They had driven off the track some time before, and there was no sign of it, either, or any landmarks to give them guidance. They had neither GPS nor a decent map against which to plot it.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last four paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Yusuf kept his arms around their shoulders as he steered them through the rear doors of the conference hall, inquiring solicitously about their plans. The moment the doors shut behind them, however, he scowled and stepped back and rubbed his hands with distaste, as though he suspected Knox and Gaille of carrying diseases. "Don't even think about talking to the press without my permission," he warned them.
  Yusuf nodded sourly, as though he knew how much the word of such people was worth. Then he turned his back emphatically on them and lumbered away.
  They made their way along a maze of corridors. "I can't believe Yusuf's going to get away with it," muttered Knox.
  They reached the back doors, pushed through them, and went down the steps to the waiting taxi. Knox opened the back door for Gaille, then climbed in beside her, giving directions to the driver. He rolled down his window as they pulled away, allowing in the scents of Egypt: the spices, the fumes, and the sweat. This was more like it—away from the politics, the ambition, the bargaining, the corruption, the deceit. In pursuit of the raw truth once more. He turned to Gaille. "I'll be needing a partner myself, as soon as all this has blown over," he told her.