In which I go to Scandanavia and Work With a Russian Gangster.... I think.... 

When you work free-lance, weird things happen. After all, there’s often a reason someone calls you instead of one of the larger companies. It could be because you’re perceived to be cheaper. Or maybe you are the crème de la crème and you are simply the person they want.

Maybe it’s because they’re a part of the criminal underground and don’t want to be traced, and they figure that if you step out of line, you can disappear and no one will notice.

I’m not sure which one of the above resulted in my invitation to Estonia, but about the time my multi-million dollar contract was cancelled with Brooks-Cole, I received an email from someone calling himself Wulff.

I’ll step out of character here and admit that I’m more than a little nervous telling this particular story, because like the other chapters I’m sharing, this story is true, and I don’t know who I was really dealing with. I’m not going to change too many of the details, because it was a long time ago, but it’s safe to say that his name wasn’t Wulff.