conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a story about Praise, Chameleon, Casablanca with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this story could be 'The Third Woman'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first two paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Third Woman
  She examined the picture. Damp and age had distorted the colour. The edges were yellow and there was a strange purple glow over the centre of the photo, like a chemical bruise. But none of this distracted from the content.
  Konstantin Komarov, standing by a Mercedes outside the Hotel Baltschug. The hotel she had stayed in when she first went to Moscow. How long ago had that been? Four years? Five? She turned the photograph over.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Julia poured the rest of her armagnac into her coffee. 'Seems like we have a connection; whatever one of us does affects the other. We're almost the same woman.'
  Julia ordered another couple of cappuccinos and they talked. At eleven-forty-five they settled the bill. Which was when Julia said, 'We're about the same size, wouldn't you say?'
  They changed in the cloakroom. Julia had a slightly fuller figure than Stephanie. As they stepped on to Kärntnerstrasse and exchanged kisses, she said, 'I guess I'm going to have to lose weight if I'm ever really going to be you.'
  Up to the fifth floor, down a long, quiet corridor, one turn to the left, then as far as the room at the end. She looked left and right, took out the Heckler & Koch, held it at her side and rang the bell. She heard the approach on the other side of the door. He was talking. A phone conversation? Or was there someone in the room with him?
  The door opened. John Peltor, in the middle of a call, snatched a glimpse of the clothes and sunglasses, then slapped a hand over the mouthpiece and hissed, 'You're late. It's after midnight. What have you done to your hair? I told you never to change anything unless I...'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last paragraph.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Mark Burnell was born in Northumberland and grew up in Brazil. On returning to Britain, he tried various sensible careers, but has always wanted to write. He now writes full time. He lives in Northumberland with his wife and their two children.