From there, their own people could take over to make the final selection, and seal the deal.

As I pointed out to them, my knowledge of the Philippines and its people was limited, and likely years out of date. Their response was to observe that it was still infinitely better than anyone else's that they thought they could trust with the job.

With the details of who and what and when and where worked out, we signed a contract for my services: I was to go there for a period of four to eight weeks, returning with between two and six potential sites that met a checklist of requirements necessary to support their facility. I was also to return with the names of at least two lawyers to represent them, and a detailed list of the various legal and financial requirements they'd have to meet, as well as the names and titles of any government officials that they'd be dealing with. It wasn't a small task, and they knew it – they didn't grumble in the slightest at the hefty fee I was charging them.

They were willing to pay Business Class airfare; I got a price quote for that rate to submit with my expense report, and then bought First Class tickets. Yes, ticket*s*. Kelly had made it quite clear early on that if I went on any business trip without her, I'd come home to a house without her in it. I didn't think she'd actually DO it, but she'd made her point. If I was going to the Philippines, I wasn't going alone. The departure date was for a good six weeks away – ample time to get passports for me and Kelly, get my other clients set up to deal with my absence, and make all the other arrangements. As always, my secretary worked wonders for me, and I made a silent vow to bring her something extra special from the Philippines.

Still, I had to deal with such things as doing some research on the Philippines as it was at the time, and contacting a company in the Philippines to arrange for a guide and driver.