In the last chapter Ohmie and his mother attend the Paris Philharmonic and decide to go to Rome.

Mom had a pretty good disguise, and I turned back into a girl. We left the hotel through a back, service exit. Leaving our fancy, philharmonic clothes behind, we only had my backpack and Mom’s carry-on that she would have to check anyway because of the Berretta. Once we got to the Rome gate area, we changed disguises again, me returning to masculinity. Hah, a joke.

Mom had sent money to Mme Benoir from Paris, of course. But she called her from Rome. We needed to know if we’d had any visitors, and whether Dad had come yet. No, and no. Good, and maybe bad. How was Dad doing? Had he found Dortch? Had he gone to the Embassy anywhere? Was he even alive? I kept my wonderings to myself. No need to let Mom think I was a worried crybaby.

Surely Paul would have sent someone, not just flowers if Dad was dead, or hurt. Or even if he’d been taken into custody. That is, if Paul even knew. Mom explained how compartmentalized Langley was, the whole need to know thing. If it wasn’t in your portfolio, you didn’t need to know – even if it was your husband. Maybe especially if it was your husband. People talk to family, and close friends. Even the best of them talk too much sometimes. And people drink, sometimes to the point of bad judgment. It happens, and they know it. And… people are people, people with money problems, or people with money dreams. If what they know is limited, then what they have to sell is equally limited. And determining the leak commensurately easier to identify.

I can’t describe the joy I felt in the Sistine. Again, Mom rented a wheelchair. Without it, I would have fallen down every time I tried to look up. The place was… enchanted. It was majestic. I felt like someone was reaching into my chest and massaging my heart. I looked at the part where God, I guess it was God, reached to touch Adam’s hand. I couldn’t say a word. Mom was ready to move on with the tour group, but I wasn’t. I just grunted my disagreement when she began to wheel me. I didn’t care if I saw anything else as long as I lived.

Finally, I was ready and looked at Mom before saying anything. She’d been looking up, too, tears on her cheeks.

Sensing me, she looked down and mumbled. I nodded, pointing toward the exit, back the way we’d come. One of the attendants guided us to the exit that they wanted us to use. We got something to eat that we could take back to our hotel. They called it pizza, but it wasn’t. It was good, though.

“Ohmie?” Mom said, our meal finished and me getting ready for bed, even though it wasn’t even noon.

I looked at her, waiting.

“Did you see what was between God and Adam?”

I thought a minute. “You saw what I saw, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she said. “There was nothing between them. Nobody, and nothing.”

I just nodded my agreement and understanding.

The bed was too hard and the pillow too soft. I felt crappy, but I felt good.

The next day we decided to go back to the chateau south of Lucerne. David and his tiny weenie would just have to be looked at by somebody else.

I prepared a text that Mom could send Dad. She’d use my phone and if Dad were to turn his on, the message would ping in. He wouldn’t have to be lit up but for a second. The message was: 3233461972721. I explained to Mom that we didn’t need to pretend that it wasn’t spy talk. Anybody who intercepted it already knew that we were spies. Anyway, they would probably think that it was a bank account number and that we needed money, or that it was a phone number, or something like that, some kind of number that meant something as a number.

“Okay,” she began, “We’re using your phone, so the start is simple:Me, or Ohmie Dad might read, an’ Mom are good. He’d get that right away.” Mom did a little bit of ciphering with her lips for the next part. “He would know that we would have a date in there somewhere, probably at the end, so the last two and one are obviously July twenty-first. That leaves p/b - hard g/k - n. The next n would be on, on the twenty-first, leaving p/b – hard g/k. peg, pack, bag, beg, ba… back on the twenty-first! Great work, Ohmie!”

“Not bad, yourself, Mom. I didn’t fall outta the clear blue sky.”

Mom laughed and hugged me a little too hard.

We packed and got ready so we could leave out early the next morning. We wouldn’t check out, just leave. I would have to shower in the morning, though. Couldn’t be helped. Mom had already paid for three nights. Boy, spy work is expensive!

Mom got me a different color wig to wear back to Switzerland. She used mine for herself. It fit okay, but looked hideous. This was the worst disguise ever. She looked like Cinderella – before the fairy godmother got a hold of her.

We traveled by train. We had to change trains once, but we could ride in the observation car. It was great, even if my eyes were shut a lot.

We were late getting in, but Mme Benoir heated us up some soup anyway. Her expression was more than pity. I truly believe she’d cry at my passing. I think I loved her, too.