When we last left our heroine, it was Friday afternoon and she was reading Domestic Enemies on the front porch. She'd left a couple of messages for Oleg, hoping to get driving directions to his house, but she hadn't been called back, so she figured she'd go upstairs and turn in way early (she hadn't had much sleep the last few nights, you see,) and make for an early start on Saturday...
"Hey, Tam, it's Oleg..."
Sure enough, it was. It was 9:35 local. Having just had a refreshing forty-five minute nap, I stumbled out of bed, scribbled the directions he gave me on the back of a business card, and made like a character from the Matt Bracken novel I'd been reading: In fifteen minutes, the Beemer was loaded with a backpack full of clothes, toiletries, and a laptop, an armload of guns, and the rest of my "to go" gear. By 9:59 I'd hit the local Kwik-E Mart, topped off the tank with cash, and was westbound from K-town toward the 'Ville on I-40, hoping I didn't have to have a chat with Johnny Law at any point in my journey:
"Do you have any weapons in the car?"
"Sure, whaddaya need?"
A good time in Nashville was had by all, and I'm sure Oleg will have stories and pictures at his place, but my portion of the Rashomon-like tale will have to wait 'til I get home, because it's back to the grind this morning.