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When I feel compelled to embark upon international multi-billion dollar intrigues, I prefer to hatch plots in Odessa, Havana or Marrakech. Anywhere redolent of a 1950s spy thriller, basically. For the same reason, I tend not to conspire with people called Jeremy Carruthers, Hugo Blenkinsop or Harriet Hartley, much preferring old favourites like Kirill Zhidkov, Ilias Bagrov and Tatiana Bocharova.