In the last chapter Ohmie’s father traveled to the EU and to the Interpol headquarters. He also learned of Dortch’s nose surgery and that he’d gone to Stockholm, Sweden. Ohmie began to turn for the worse.

Mom gave me a dose of the anti-nausea stuff and waited only half the time to repeat the steroid and pain killer. They weren’t helping. I don’t think I was in pain, but Mom couldn’t tell. She sent Dad a text that we were going to a local clinic. Turned out we had to go all the way into Lucerne. They got all excited and sent us by ambulance to the University Hospital of Zurich. Zurich refused to do a thing until Mom authorized them to send to the states for my records. All she wanted was pain control. They were unimpressed with our recent decisions regarding my healthcare. Of course, they had to use my real name.

Dad opened his phone in Stockholm. All he learned about Dortch was that it was outpatient surgery. Dortch could be anywhere, but was most likely there in Stockholm for a few days, at least. No matter. Dad made plans to fly to Zurich on a series of cargo planes. A person would be amazed at what a 007 card and a decoder ring could get you. (just kidding, sort of).

Mme Benoir came to Zurich as soon as Mom called her to let her know that we were not in Lucerne. I figured she would come to see me in Lucerne. I was pleasantly surprised to see her in Zurich. How was I doing? Not so well. I was able to catch what was going on, but my ability to grasp any subtleties was pretty much shot. Hearing was working, speaking, not so much, especially since they had an oxygen mask on me. Mom refused to let them intubate me. Palliative care only. Okay, they said, washing their hands of me once I was made comfortable. They went to work looking for a hospice that would take me.

Dad showed up. He hugged Mme Benoir, and then really hugged Mom. Then it was my turn. “Virgy, would you and Mme Benoir give Ohmie and me a little time? Maybe get yourselves something to eat and bring me back some coffee? Virgy you have your…?” Dad nodded toward his hip. Mom nodded back. Gun. Dad had seen something.

That was when Dad caught me up. He knew that I was dying to be involved. Hah! Get it? With just a little time to tell it, I know he only hit the highlights. I don’t think I even blinked the whole time. When he finally took a breath, I tried with all my might to take off my mask. Dad did it for me long enough for me to tell him that he could trust Zürman.

Mom and Mme Benoir came back.

“Mme Benoir,” Mom began. I thought it peculiar that Mom would start a conversation like that after being with her a half an hour. “Maybe you should say good…” Mom choked up, unable to finish her sentence.

“Virginia, Sam. I know. I saw those men, too, Virginia. And I saw your guns in the room, and on your back, Sam. I also saw your disguises,” She looked at me. “And Ohmie’s brassiere. You are C.I.A., or something like that. I know.”

Mom and Dad snapped their heads one to another and Mme Benoir a few times, saying nothing.

“My grandmother was French resistance. My mother was a nurse in Vietnam, a French nurse in the Gendarmerie at Dien Bien Phu.” She let that sink in a minute. I knew history pretty well. Not only was I an advanced student, but I read a lot. Dien Bien Phu was where the French army was defeated, the impetus for their leaving Vietnam.

“Me. I have cooked soup, and changed beds my entire life. My mother, my grandmother were heroic.” She stopped for a moment, not in self-pity, but in tribute. “My mother was conceived under, shall I say, less than pleasant conditions. My mother never spoke of her battle experiences. Never. But I read stories. I saw the films. I always wondered what I would have done, how I would react. Well, this is my moment. It may not be much, but for Ohmie…”

Mom and Dad both started to speak, but Mme Benoir held up both hands like she was a traffic cop in the middle of an intersection. “I will disguise as Virginia, arm sling, a wig, one of her…” Mrs Benoir nodded toward Mom’s much larger chest. I couldn’t help but chortle through the mask. Mom thought I was gagging, but Mrs Benoir knew. “Such a stinker, he is.” She was grinning.

She continued. “We put a dummy in a wheelchair. And with your car parked at the door, Dummy and I, what do you say divert those men before they shoot up innocent people.”

“And when they catch you?” Mom asked.

“My moment,” was all Mme Benoir said.

Dad looked at the wall clock. “Soon as it’s dark,” he said. Then Dad left to set things in motion. Maybe steal some kid to play me in a wheelchair. He hadn’t touched his coffee.

Somehow, I felt a little invigorated and motioned toward the cup. Mom made a little face and shrugged her shoulders. I think right then I could have asked for anything in the world. I just wanted to sip Dad’s drink, like it could make me closer to him. I don’t know. Maybe that’s stupid, but that’s what was in my head. It tasted awful, but I took three big sips anyway.

Mme Benoir gave me another one of those little stinker looks.