In the last chapter, Ohmie’s father came to and they escaped the hotel with two dead assassins in their room. They managed to get to Warsaw without detection by the police, or whatever bad guys are after Ohmie’s father, the spy.

Dad bought himself a change of clothes, a reversible coat, and a suitcase. Before leaving the store he stuffed my backpack and carry-on into the case. He had the new jacket on as we left the store. I guess my looks were okay. “Canada” was all he said. I headed back the way we came until I spotted a flight schedule monitor that told me the gate number. I followed signs to get there, picking a seat where I could watch the approaching travelers. I don’t know how he did it, but Dad came from the other direction and sat beside me. After handing me the Clancy book, he settled back, his head leaned way back like he was asleep. He wasn’t though. I could see his eyes were just slightly open. And he wasn’t breathing like a man asleep. More like someone on high alert.

“We’re going to stay right here for about two hours,” he said. It was funny. In my head all I could think of was a ventriloquist. It was like I was the dummy. Dad was talking super quiet, but his lips weren’t moving. I knew not to look at him. I just sat the looking at page eleven. “Then I’ll get up and go to the lounge that we passed. We’ll be in there almost an hour. Then get you a ticket and we’re outta here.”

I acted like I didn’t hear him, surprised that he let so much of the plan out. After we ate we went to a bathroom again. I guess he reversed his jacket when he took it off. This time I did have to go. Dad did too, or at least he made himself go. When there was no one but us in there, he had me stand by the door. If anyone tried to come in, I was to crash into the door and make a big fuss, falling down and all. No one did, and I didn’t, but I could hear Dad breaking down the two guns into their various parts. He gave me back my backpack and had his coat reversed again.

We got my ticket and just made it to the gate. It wasn’t until we were in the air and the seatbelt indicator light was off that Dad leaned over to talk. He started right out like he was answering questions, “Warsaw because this flight is never full. And being as late as we were, they didn’t x-ray our checked suitcase. Warsaw because I know my way around and we can be out in the country in minutes. What we did to get here is because London has cameras everywhere. I don’t have another passport for you. You have my name. Whoever found me, can find me again. I just slowed them up a bit. Make ‘em work for it. They lost me, and figured you were headed home. They probably already know that you are not on that flight, but on this one. They’ll assume that I’m on it, too. But at least they aren’t on it with us.”

“Dad,” I started. He snapped back toward me probably wondering what question I could possibly have that he hadn’t answered. “What about my dialysis and chemotherapy?”

Dad sighed heavily, drawing in a lungful through his nose and letting it go the same way. “Look, the dialysis was precautionary. You’re borderline. And with the other …” he paused for a second. “With the other, the cancer, they didn’t want the complication.”

“And the chemo?” I asked.

“You remember what the doctor said? Radiation was out, right? And surgery.”

I nodded.

“With treatment, you might have what six, eight months? And without maybe two, three if you were lucky? What’s the difference between three months and six months? Six months of puking up your guts? It’s not like in those next three months they’re gonna find the magic cure.”

After a moment’s pause, me not saying anything, Dad looked at me, “Look. I can get you back home. You’ll just miss a couple treatments, But I can’t just send you. They nab you and use you for leverage. Hell, I’d give up the nuclear codes and they know it.”

Dad was exaggerating about the codes. No way he has those. But the shocker was that he’d give up anything at all to keep me from getting hurt. Then this.

“And after whatever they threatened or did, they’d kill us both anyway. It ain’t the movies, kid, where they talk an’ yammer ‘til you find a way to escape. They tie me up, hammer one of your fingers, and then hammer the same one again. You screamin’ and I can’t go belly up fast enough. Then it’s lights out. I’ll know what’s coming, but won’t be able to stop myself from giving up a lot of innocent people.”

“Promise me you’ll find a way for me to say good-bye to Nurse May,” I said, looking him square in the eye.

He nodded. I think that was when he choked back something or other. He looked away to keep me from seeing tears. His other hand was moving like he was wiping his face. I turned to the window and looked at Europe.

We took a cab from the airport to a small hotel on the outskirts of the city, up against a forest that looked more like a wall, a fort wall.  We unpacked. Mostly, I think, so Dad could collect all the parts of the two guns. He assembled them seemingly without looking, like his hands knew which parts went to which of the two guns, where they went, and in what order to assemble them. He was like a stranger. A complete stranger. I didn’t even know him. What do you say to a man you thought was just your dad? What would you say to James Bond, suddenly the center of your existence? I said nothing, sensing that to be his preference. Fully assembled and operational, he loaded four magazines, inserted one into each gun and jacked a round into each chamber.

“Only two times you don’t want your gun ready to fire: one, when you plan to operate a jack hammer, and the other when you plan to die.”

I didn’t know this man.