In the last chapter Ohmie’s mother is kidnapped. Ohmie snuck up on two guys who were entering his and his mother's  hotel room.

It sounded like one shot, but I knew it was two, just real close together, They were taking better aim this time. I could tell that by their shoulder motion. Bam – bam. I dropped ‘em both. Dead center mass – in their backs. Does that make me a cowardly back-shooter? I didn’t care. I thought about head shots just to make sure, but I was sure enough, the way they crumpled down. Another man was down. Shot once in his right chest. Looked like it hurt.

He acknowledged me. I wished I didn’t have the wig on. One, I looked like a … and two, he could pass on my description. I ran, as best I could, to the bathroom for a couple towels. I rolled him as best I could, cramming one of the towels where I knew the exit would be. Probably a hole the size of my fist, well… maybe Dad’s fist. After pressing the other one to his chest, I pulled off his belt to tie him together. It wouldn’t reach. So I took my own off and buckled them together. That was enough to do it. But I’d be a sagger getting out of here.

“Where’s Mom,” I kept asking the whole while. “Virginia Westlake?”

I guess it finally registered. “She’s okay. Broken arm is all. Scrapes.” My guess was that she jumped out of the car that they put her into while it was moving. “She’s at the Embassy.” His voice was weak, one word at a time, like. A lot of pain, I was sure. I wondered if Dad was as tough as this guy seemed.

Captive, was my bet. Mom was kept captive at the embassy. Otherwise, Mom would have been here.

Satisfied that I’d stopped the worst of the bleeding, I skedaddled outta there, but not before taking the two Romanians’ extra magazines. The magazines wouldn’t fit the Beretta, of course, but the nines would. Like Mom said, “You never know.” I also told the desk to call an ambulance.

I took a cab to the train station. There was a line that went to Lucerne. The Lucerne depot had brochures where I grabbed one of each. My cab driver spoke French, naturally, since Switzerland was half French and half German speaking. Most Swiss spoke one, or both, of them plus English.

I was comfortable with French, and more confident in the cabbie’s French than in the hope he properly understood my English, and then used the correct English back. I showed him the brochures that I’d narrowed my search down to. I explained that my parents were revisiting their honeymoon without phones, but that my Mom’s mother was in the hospital with a heart attack and needed her. I explained that it was probably one of the cheaper ones, but had to have a good view of the mountains. He thought a minute and we took off like a shot. I tipped him well.

At the chateau, and I agreed that this had to be the one, I talked to the owner/manager. The place was more like an American B&B than a resort. I told her that my parents were returning to the place where I was conceived. (ha-ha) I smiled in what I thought to be a blush. Then I told her that at the train station I boarded, but they spent so much time kissing that they missed the train. I came on because I have lymphoma and couldn’t just wait around. I had to lay down. It was the truth. I figured that the closer I could stay to the truth, the easier time I would have remembering my story.

I had money, I said. And that I could sleep on a chair or in a shed, or closet. I guess I was lucky that it was early fall and not ski season. She had rooms. Did I need anything? I asked if she had anything to eat. She would bring me bread and soup.

I woke up to Dad sitting beside the bed watching me.

I told him what I knew about Mom. And what happened at the hotel room. And that it was now my four to his two. I didn’t want to sound like a crazy, gun-happy kid. I just thought he needed to know, and tried to put a light side to it. He just looked at me sad like. After a moment Dad told me that I’d saved a man’s life. A good man. I don’t think Dad knew who he was, though. But maybe he did.

When I woke up again, Mom was there, her right arm in a cast and sling. She and Dad were kissing.

“Hey, Ohmie,” Mom said, seeing me try to get up to go to the bathroom. “Can I help you?” she asked. I just looked at her. But I know she meant well.

“No thanks. Maybe something to eat,” I said as I shut the door behind me. “And some clean clothes,” I shouted as loud as my weakened condition allowed.

Turned out, Mom not only jumped from the moving car while she was zip tied, but she also skipped from the hospital. Jumping from the car, she was immediately surrounded by well-wishers. Rather than go to a hospital, she demanded police take he to the Embassy. After giving her report four different times, they finally took her to get her arm looked at. As soon as the bone was set and cast applied, she bolted. Of course, that meant she was now without her passport. Now that I was more, or less, capable of feeding myself, Dad would go with her back to Berlin to get one from the guy who was originally going to make one for me.

But they would first have to stop at a couple of Dad’s banks. I’m learning a lot about the industry.

Mom planned on calling Paul from somewhere away from Lucerne to tell him the story, the one that they wanted him to know. She would also refuse to come back to the states, or to be guarded (read babysat while they trapped Dad). She was going to stay with me until the end, and then deal with whatever had to be dealt with, whatever the cost. I was really proud of her. I wondered if I should, I don’t know, hurry the end.

Me, I wanted to, one: look at what was on Dad’s thumb drive, the one that was still in Deutsche bank. And two: I wanted to go to Minsk and get into Deus Comtec. There had to be computers there that were only intermittently on line, if ever. Work product could be manually carried to other computers that did not have programs or data, but merely used to upload, to transmit. I might have to pull a Mom to get there. I should be able to pull it off while they’re in Berlin.