| General Fiction posted October 9, 2022 | Chapters: |
...12 13 -14- 15... 
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Tenneage spy Ohmie
A chapter in the book The Best Time of Ohmie's Life
Best Time of Ohmie's Life pt 14
by Wayne Fowler
In the last chapter Ohmie's father decides to go to Minsk while Ohmie and his mother travel to Switzerland.
"I think we should forget the Alps and go with Dad," I said. "He needs us. We're a team. Who's gonna watch his back?" I kept talking hoping to get past the immediate no.
No sale. Mom and I would fly to Zurich. We would do some touring, or not, and when it was time, take a tourist bus to Lucerne. I could travel as Ohmie, but would have to don the wig and bra before checking into the hotel. We figured that we were safe, only to be on the lookout for Company agents that might be looking for Dad. Or anyone who resembled the three dead dudes that Dortch probably contracted. Shouldn't be any gunplay.
So follow along. We're in Berlin. Dad waited until Monday to go to his bank where he saw Dortch. Dad could have gone to the Embassy and faced the music. Not a good prospect. He could have laid a trap for Dortch and ... what, torture the truth out of him? Doubtful on that, too. He opted for door number three, go see what Pete knows.
Dortch would probably continue monitoring the two banks that he was certain Dad used. I mean, Dad even told us that he shared that information with Dortch, just as Dortch had him. Dortch, himself, had a box in the Deutsche Bank. Dortch would also use the Company's technology and the law enforcement contacts to look for Dad on cameras, and hotel registrations, and border crossings. Unfortunately, Dortch, and the Company, also had the ability to find Mom. Which they did.
Lucky for us, they weren't quite good enough. Dad left late Monday night. He kissed my forehead goodbye. I woke enough to mumble good bye. Mom and I went shopping Tuesday morning - more girl's stuff for me: different wigs, glasses, a couple outfits, and a less busty, strapless bra. She got disguising stuff for herself, too. As our cab pulled away, we saw who had to be agents coming out of an apartment building across the street. They had no bags. They were looking for us.
Mom said that Paul, her boss, would have been obliged to spill everything he knew, that she was going to give me the Europe experience. He, of course, knew that I was a musician, and therefore the important symphonies were obvious. It wouldn't take much spy skills to find out about my recital in Berlin. A little detecting could get them to our cabbie. I was glad, then, that we'd changed cabs. Dad would already be cuffed if not.
They probably did a methodical search all day Sunday and again this Monday. No telling how many agents they had looking for Dad, us. Plain Jane Mrs Porter and her granddaughter, Terry. I had my new passport and could switch to Tymofiy in a jiffy.
My tablet had an atlas. It didn't take much to figure Dad would fly under an alias to Vilnius, Lithuania. That would get him within two-and-a-half hours from Minsk, Belarus, by car, the safest way to get there. They wouldn't expect Lithuania. I couldn't see him flying into Belarus, for sure. And I didn't think he would take the time to go by train. I was sure that he wanted to get to Pete before anyone else did. Though it was pure fantasyland that the Company hadn't already. But who knew, maybe not, what with Viktar's death. Maybe the Company, maybe even Dortch would stay clear for a while. Afterall, they were in a hurry to find Dad, not pursue the politics stuff.
So, Dad was on his way to Minsk, and we were going to Zurich. We checked in as Timothy and Virginia Westlake, ourselves. Mom couldn't travel Europe with me as a last hurrah incognito. That would look too suspicious. I transformed into me before getting to the hotel. Mom just took off her wig. Her make-up could wait.
We expected a visit, and got one. Not Dortch, thankfully. And not Russians, either. Mom gave me back the gun before answering the door. "Yes, we saw Dad in Berlin. No, we don't know where he is, or even where he went to after leaving us. He never tells us those things, stupid! No, we don't know when we'll see him again. Yes, of course he'll see us before we leave Europe. His son's dying of cancer, you idiot!" All that was after they searched our room for him, and for any luggage or clothing that would be his. Mom was unhappy. She didn't cry, but her eyes did.
The first thing the next day, after the visit to our hotel room, where I crashed for fourteen hours, was a day trip to the Top of Europe - Jungfraujoch. Literally that translated to virgin yoke, or maiden yoke. It was probably named for a nun's monastery, there at the top of Europe. It had the highest train stop in Europe. I was excited to go once Mom described it. It would probably be better in the winter, but winter was more than I had time for. It was funny. Most people say it like that meaning they only had so much vacation time.
I hated to miss out, but I couldn't keep my eyes open on the trip back down. Stage four lymphoma will make a little girl out of you.
We didn't make it to our room. But first, Dad's next steps.
In the last chapter Ohmie's father decides to go to Minsk while Ohmie and his mother travel to Switzerland.
"I think we should forget the Alps and go with Dad," I said. "He needs us. We're a team. Who's gonna watch his back?" I kept talking hoping to get past the immediate no.
No sale. Mom and I would fly to Zurich. We would do some touring, or not, and when it was time, take a tourist bus to Lucerne. I could travel as Ohmie, but would have to don the wig and bra before checking into the hotel. We figured that we were safe, only to be on the lookout for Company agents that might be looking for Dad. Or anyone who resembled the three dead dudes that Dortch probably contracted. Shouldn't be any gunplay.
So follow along. We're in Berlin. Dad waited until Monday to go to his bank where he saw Dortch. Dad could have gone to the Embassy and faced the music. Not a good prospect. He could have laid a trap for Dortch and ... what, torture the truth out of him? Doubtful on that, too. He opted for door number three, go see what Pete knows.
Dortch would probably continue monitoring the two banks that he was certain Dad used. I mean, Dad even told us that he shared that information with Dortch, just as Dortch had him. Dortch, himself, had a box in the Deutsche Bank. Dortch would also use the Company's technology and the law enforcement contacts to look for Dad on cameras, and hotel registrations, and border crossings. Unfortunately, Dortch, and the Company, also had the ability to find Mom. Which they did.
Lucky for us, they weren't quite good enough. Dad left late Monday night. He kissed my forehead goodbye. I woke enough to mumble good bye. Mom and I went shopping Tuesday morning - more girl's stuff for me: different wigs, glasses, a couple outfits, and a less busty, strapless bra. She got disguising stuff for herself, too. As our cab pulled away, we saw who had to be agents coming out of an apartment building across the street. They had no bags. They were looking for us.
Mom said that Paul, her boss, would have been obliged to spill everything he knew, that she was going to give me the Europe experience. He, of course, knew that I was a musician, and therefore the important symphonies were obvious. It wouldn't take much spy skills to find out about my recital in Berlin. A little detecting could get them to our cabbie. I was glad, then, that we'd changed cabs. Dad would already be cuffed if not.
They probably did a methodical search all day Sunday and again this Monday. No telling how many agents they had looking for Dad, us. Plain Jane Mrs Porter and her granddaughter, Terry. I had my new passport and could switch to Tymofiy in a jiffy.
My tablet had an atlas. It didn't take much to figure Dad would fly under an alias to Vilnius, Lithuania. That would get him within two-and-a-half hours from Minsk, Belarus, by car, the safest way to get there. They wouldn't expect Lithuania. I couldn't see him flying into Belarus, for sure. And I didn't think he would take the time to go by train. I was sure that he wanted to get to Pete before anyone else did. Though it was pure fantasyland that the Company hadn't already. But who knew, maybe not, what with Viktar's death. Maybe the Company, maybe even Dortch would stay clear for a while. Afterall, they were in a hurry to find Dad, not pursue the politics stuff.
So, Dad was on his way to Minsk, and we were going to Zurich. We checked in as Timothy and Virginia Westlake, ourselves. Mom couldn't travel Europe with me as a last hurrah incognito. That would look too suspicious. I transformed into me before getting to the hotel. Mom just took off her wig. Her make-up could wait.
We expected a visit, and got one. Not Dortch, thankfully. And not Russians, either. Mom gave me back the gun before answering the door. "Yes, we saw Dad in Berlin. No, we don't know where he is, or even where he went to after leaving us. He never tells us those things, stupid! No, we don't know when we'll see him again. Yes, of course he'll see us before we leave Europe. His son's dying of cancer, you idiot!" All that was after they searched our room for him, and for any luggage or clothing that would be his. Mom was unhappy. She didn't cry, but her eyes did.
The first thing the next day, after the visit to our hotel room, where I crashed for fourteen hours, was a day trip to the Top of Europe - Jungfraujoch. Literally that translated to virgin yoke, or maiden yoke. It was probably named for a nun's monastery, there at the top of Europe. It had the highest train stop in Europe. I was excited to go once Mom described it. It would probably be better in the winter, but winter was more than I had time for. It was funny. Most people say it like that meaning they only had so much vacation time.
I hated to miss out, but I couldn't keep my eyes open on the trip back down. Stage four lymphoma will make a little girl out of you.
We didn't make it to our room. But first, Dad's next steps.
"I think we should forget the Alps and go with Dad," I said. "He needs us. We're a team. Who's gonna watch his back?" I kept talking hoping to get past the immediate no.
No sale. Mom and I would fly to Zurich. We would do some touring, or not, and when it was time, take a tourist bus to Lucerne. I could travel as Ohmie, but would have to don the wig and bra before checking into the hotel. We figured that we were safe, only to be on the lookout for Company agents that might be looking for Dad. Or anyone who resembled the three dead dudes that Dortch probably contracted. Shouldn't be any gunplay.
So follow along. We're in Berlin. Dad waited until Monday to go to his bank where he saw Dortch. Dad could have gone to the Embassy and faced the music. Not a good prospect. He could have laid a trap for Dortch and ... what, torture the truth out of him? Doubtful on that, too. He opted for door number three, go see what Pete knows.
Dortch would probably continue monitoring the two banks that he was certain Dad used. I mean, Dad even told us that he shared that information with Dortch, just as Dortch had him. Dortch, himself, had a box in the Deutsche Bank. Dortch would also use the Company's technology and the law enforcement contacts to look for Dad on cameras, and hotel registrations, and border crossings. Unfortunately, Dortch, and the Company, also had the ability to find Mom. Which they did.
Lucky for us, they weren't quite good enough. Dad left late Monday night. He kissed my forehead goodbye. I woke enough to mumble good bye. Mom and I went shopping Tuesday morning - more girl's stuff for me: different wigs, glasses, a couple outfits, and a less busty, strapless bra. She got disguising stuff for herself, too. As our cab pulled away, we saw who had to be agents coming out of an apartment building across the street. They had no bags. They were looking for us.
Mom said that Paul, her boss, would have been obliged to spill everything he knew, that she was going to give me the Europe experience. He, of course, knew that I was a musician, and therefore the important symphonies were obvious. It wouldn't take much spy skills to find out about my recital in Berlin. A little detecting could get them to our cabbie. I was glad, then, that we'd changed cabs. Dad would already be cuffed if not.
They probably did a methodical search all day Sunday and again this Monday. No telling how many agents they had looking for Dad, us. Plain Jane Mrs Porter and her granddaughter, Terry. I had my new passport and could switch to Tymofiy in a jiffy.
My tablet had an atlas. It didn't take much to figure Dad would fly under an alias to Vilnius, Lithuania. That would get him within two-and-a-half hours from Minsk, Belarus, by car, the safest way to get there. They wouldn't expect Lithuania. I couldn't see him flying into Belarus, for sure. And I didn't think he would take the time to go by train. I was sure that he wanted to get to Pete before anyone else did. Though it was pure fantasyland that the Company hadn't already. But who knew, maybe not, what with Viktar's death. Maybe the Company, maybe even Dortch would stay clear for a while. Afterall, they were in a hurry to find Dad, not pursue the politics stuff.
So, Dad was on his way to Minsk, and we were going to Zurich. We checked in as Timothy and Virginia Westlake, ourselves. Mom couldn't travel Europe with me as a last hurrah incognito. That would look too suspicious. I transformed into me before getting to the hotel. Mom just took off her wig. Her make-up could wait.
We expected a visit, and got one. Not Dortch, thankfully. And not Russians, either. Mom gave me back the gun before answering the door. "Yes, we saw Dad in Berlin. No, we don't know where he is, or even where he went to after leaving us. He never tells us those things, stupid! No, we don't know when we'll see him again. Yes, of course he'll see us before we leave Europe. His son's dying of cancer, you idiot!" All that was after they searched our room for him, and for any luggage or clothing that would be his. Mom was unhappy. She didn't cry, but her eyes did.
The first thing the next day, after the visit to our hotel room, where I crashed for fourteen hours, was a day trip to the Top of Europe - Jungfraujoch. Literally that translated to virgin yoke, or maiden yoke. It was probably named for a nun's monastery, there at the top of Europe. It had the highest train stop in Europe. I was excited to go once Mom described it. It would probably be better in the winter, but winter was more than I had time for. It was funny. Most people say it like that meaning they only had so much vacation time.
I hated to miss out, but I couldn't keep my eyes open on the trip back down. Stage four lymphoma will make a little girl out of you.
We didn't make it to our room. But first, Dad's next steps.
We've recently had two sets of company come for extended visits - yay!
Unfortunately, Ohmie stories are on hold.
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