Well, I wasn't supposed to be hearing any of this at all, much less making out what she was saying. It was just a special language, I think. I imagine... she was saying, "Man, this is some first-class fucking, here!" But she didn't say anything, of course, that really sounded anything like that.Dave had told me, while we were still down in Winston-Salem, that maybe the three of us would drive up to Gettysburg, not too far away, up in Pennsylvania, to see the Civil War Battlefield there, on his. Probably my guests from the Russian Embassy.Then there were the two observers. They were on opposite sides of the train, and I gathered they did not know of each other's presence. Their thoughts were in English and I figured one of them was CIA. The other was difficult to read."Must be the range," I thought at first. But that didn't make sense. I focused a little, but except for the emotional signature, and his interest in what was happening on the train, I could read very little. "This has got. I replied stating that I had never tried it. I wasn't comfortable drinking and didn't do it very often but he insisted so I opened the bottle and took a drink. He took the bottle, took a couple swigs and handed it back to me. It tasted good so I took another drink...and another.It wasn't long before I was feeling very inebriated. He pulled the car over on this desolate stretch of highway and we chatted for a little while and at some point the conversation turned to sex. At this point I wasn't. If I quit and move out, how can I make a living?’ ‘Open your eyes. You work in an insurance office. You have years of experience, and you could run the place all by yourself. All over the world there are insurance offices. They’re staffed by young women, who are always getting married and moving away or having babies, so there’s constant turnover. Pick a place where you’d like to live. Go there and look it over. If you like it, check the help wanted ads. Do interviews, nail down a job, arrange.