In the last chapter Dad got the Company cash that was offered. He bought a plastic, one time use gun, and came to our chateau. There, he studied the thumb drive, copying part for Mom to take to the Liechtenstein Embassy. Dad told me he loved me as he left to find Dortch. It was the first time ever.

We were going to Vaduz. I woke up at two in the morning feeling better than I had since Minsk. It was cold, but the moon over the Alps was fantastic. I decided I was fit to go to Vaduz with Mom. She got up at about five and agreed that it would be good for me to get out. I was a little surprised that she agreed so easily. Then on the drive I saw why.

“But Mom, Dad needs us!” I was as emphatic as I could be.

“Ohmie, I came over to get you and take you home, remember? This wasn’t a holiday; Dad never would have involved you in business.”

“But… he needed me!”

“Yes, honey. You saved his life. No one will ever forget that. But the mess with the Company is straightened out, and we can go home.”

I didn’t have an immediate response. And I won’t deny that my own room and bed sounded attractive. Mom, sensing that I was just working up another excuse to stay in Europe laid in again. “Honey, this is what your father does. This is his job. Danger is always a consideration.”

“That why he never tried to get to know me? Never was involved with anything I was into?”

Mom looked out her side window a little longer than safe driving permitted. “I guess that’s right. But don’t doubt that he loves you. He came from a family that, that just didn’t show emotions. Your grandmother’s idea of affection is signing her name to a card, or a check. Did you know that your dad has a scrap book? I need to show it to you when we get home. I only learned about it a couple years ago. Your dad didn’t want to look at it, so I put it back in the box that I’d found it in. In the back sleeve he has five birthday cards from when he was nine through fourteen. They’re signed by your grandmother, just that, her signature. And a check for ten dollars inside each card. He never cashed them.”

Mom didn’t add any commentary. She didn’t need to.

“He’s not like my friends’ dads,” I said.

“No, he’s not.” Mom said that like matter-of-factly.

“He’s a hero, isn’t he?” I looked at Mom until she looked back.

“Yes he is, Ohmie. When we get home I’ll show you his medals. But it has to be our secret. He told me once that a man shouldn’t get decorated for just doing his job.”

Ohmie didn’t respond. He saw the four men he’d killed and knew that he’d only done what he’d had to do. Maybe he should have felt … freaked out, or something. But he had no choice.

At the Embassy, I was not impressed. Since Mom had to have the thumb drive sealed and registered for C.I.A delivery, specifically to Paul, the Ambassador met with us. Mom said he was a political appointee, not a career diplomat. My guess was that he’d donated a hundred grand to a PAC. He probably thought he shoulda got Switzerland, but took Liechtenstein as a consolation prize.

The airport we checked out would do… if you didn’t mind flying in a thirty-passenger jet prop. I wondered if the one I saw people loading onto could clear the mountains. Since Dad would have to change planes somewhere to fly into Vaduz, I didn’t see a great advantage, other than the fact that he could avoid the public area where Croatians might be lurking. If it was Dortch, Vaduz would make him a sitting duck. At Zurich, if he was picked up by a private car, he could stay at the gate and wait for an appointed time to dash out and hop in. That’s how I’d do it.

We were nearly back at the chateau before I’d worked that out. I probably napped some.

Once inside, Mom sprang it on me. “What do you say we go home tomorrow, Ohmie?” She dashed into the bathroom. I think she knew that I wasn’t going to talk to her through the door when she was on the pot. Totally not fair.

Since I couldn’t think of a good reason to stay, and there were several good reasons to go home, I didn’t resist. Mom already knew that I wanted to help Dad. But even I knew that a stage four lymphaticly-dying thirteen-year-old would only drag Dad down, probably be the death of him.

I’d wear the wig and bra to the terminal gate. Hah! That’s not a funny picture – the airport terminal. We would both travel on our fake passports. Zurich to Heathrow, then Heathrow to Washington national. Home was actually sounding good. Goodbyes to Mme Benoir, yes, I would send postcards, and we were off.

I wonder where Dad is?

We parked in long term parking and waited for a golf cart shuttle to take us to our airline area.

“Mom!” Mom looked to where my eyes were focused. The two men could be twins of the two in London. One of them was staring directly at me. I think Mom recognized them, too, because she made no effort to get off the tram thing.

“Where’s the gun?” I asked. Then I remembered that it was in her suitcase. We would avoid a shootout in this crowd anyway. I knew that. Mom looked away. I kept looking at him like an amateur. We stayed on and returned to the car.

“Want to try the train?” Mom asked.

I thought about the gun coming in the sleeper car, followed closely by an assassin.

“Let’s go back to the chateau and think things out, shall we?” Mom called Mme Benoir to hold our room. I was betting that Mom would figure a route that took us back through Italy. That seemed safe enough. I couldn’t think of a reason to rebut it. We could drive to Vaduz and just transfer to Zurich Air from inside the terminal. I doubt if the assassins could get inside that far to look for us. Surely, they wouldn’t expect us to fly from Liechtenstein? But I wasn’t going to suggest it.

“If we flew from Vaduz, we could stay within the secure area changing flights,” Mom suggested.