The authors have, alone or together, been to most large cities in the United States, Canada, and Mexico.  Internationally we have visited Paris, London, Edinburgh, New Delhi, Amsterdam, Rome, Dublin, Madrid, Brussels, Moscow, Budapest, Munich, and many, many places in between, and a few we have forgotten.

Some have been visited more often than others, and some locations that have been left out have been visited regularly too.  Amsterdam has been a favorite of the authors; the canals and coffee shops are magnificent.  What coffee!

Most of the locations in the novels are places my son and I have visited.  We have never been to Amman, Jordan, to the Black Forest in Germany (although I have been to Germany many times, a country and people I adore) nor to to Kenya or to Africa in general.

My son and I have been frequent and long-term visitors to Canada, a place we both love, and to Mexico, a country I love.  I have traveled the length and breadth of Mexico while my son prefers to spend his time in Costa Rica.  I have lived in Costa Rica on and off for more than a year.

Moscow and Volgograd have also been places I have lived.  Russians do make an entrance in the Trilogy, although my two-year assignment there was far from a happy one.  My work was government related, placing me under constant surveillance by the FSB and local police.  My phones and emails were tapped, and I was once short listed by the FSB as a subject of retaliation for an arrest of a Russian national in the United States.

After receiving a phone call in the middle of the night informing me I might soon be arrested, I flew to Moscow and immediately contacted the United States Embassy who hinted that my story was correct, but due to diplomatic considerations could not be confirmed, nor would they assist me in any way.  Thus began my immense disenchantment with my own native government, bad feelings I continue to harbor to this day.  The BS we see in movies and TV apply only to the rich and famous; apparently not to us “little people”  I fled the country quite quickly.

Later, during a tour of western Europe to discuss conditions within Russia, an Embassy official familiar with my case with a “Black Passport” commented on my leaving the country, implying some sort of character defect.  The discussion which ensued was not a happy one for him; with diplomatic immunity, he could afford to be the coward he was.