Something to consider, you know, just in case you need to go somewhere and it's the only ride around.
Your French military attache stumbles into the hotel room and falls to floor.
A gunshot wound in his back.
The keys slip from his bloody hands. "Go my friends. Go!" he whispers with his last breath.
You hear the sounds of sporadic gunfire outside in the streets outside with the distant rumble of tanks in the distance as you head for the roof.