Coming across the first KGB office building he could find, he entered, went past the reception desk, entered the first office he could find, and introduced himself.

"Good afternoon, I'm an American spy," he said before he was cut off.

"My apologies, but this office is for internal affairs only," they said. "We process double agents and defectors here. You'll want to go to the east wing, take the first right there, and go to the door at the end of the hall."

He walked to the east wing, following their instructions until he reached the office. There, he opened the door and once again introduced himself.

"Good afternoon, I'm an American spy. My conscience is torturing me, so I've decided to give myself up."

"An American, you say?" they asked him. "We only deal with Englishmen. Go down the hall until you come to the second door on the left. Ask for Colonel Muchin."

"Good afternoon, I'm an American spy," he said after entering Muchin's office. "I was dropped by parachute into Soviet territory—"

"By parachute?" the Colonel interrupted. "That's not my jurisdiction. The only spies I handle are American frogmen. You should be in the other ward, across the way on the third floor at Room 1223."

The American wandered around the building until he finally found the room he needed. He stopped to catch his breath before entering.

"Good afternoon, I'm an American spy dropped from a plane to blow up a bridge of strategic—"

"No, no, no," they told him. "We have nothing to do with explosive specialists. We only handle photography of military bases and missile silos. You'll want to head to that little building in the courtyard. There's an entrance in the street."

He got up, slowly walking to the next office, clearly tired. Before he entered the courtyard office, he bought a soda from a nearby vending machine before drinking it and setting the glass back. Then he entered the office, introducing himself yet again.

"Good afternoon, I'm an American spy dropped from a plane to blow up a bridge of strategic importance," he said. "It's one of the bridges across the Volga."

"Not my jurisdiction, I'm afraid," they replied. "I handle matters with the Moskva, not the Volga. You'll want to go back inside the main building and head to the top floor, then go to the furthest office on the left."

He went back in, heading up to the top floor. By the time he reached it, he was exhausted and dragging himself to the office. Opening the door, he stumbled inside.

"Good evening," he blurted out. "I'm...an American spy...dropped from a plane...to blow up a bridge...across the Volga...of strategic importance..."

"Oh, to hell with it!" the head of the office cried, throwing his hand down in annoyance. "No one gives me any time to finish my annual report! Well, why did you roll in here, anyway? You've been given a mission, so carry it out!"