In the last chapter Ohmie’s parents entertain Ohmie at a polka pub and surprise him at the philharmonic.

Dad hadn’t been to his bank box yet. He didn’t want to be carrying anything if he got captured. In his business, he could be picked up by … put it this way, there was always more than two sides. A dodecahedron has twelve sides. There’s probably shapes with even more. It was just Dad’s side against the bad guy’s side. There were lots of bad guys in this world. And lots of okay guys who spied against their enemies and their friends just because that’s what they do. And those guys act like bad guys when they don’t want your side to know what they’re doing, or what they got.

Anyway, Dad had his present operation guys to think about, and also the other side of every operation he’d ever been involved with. I mean, something he was a part of ten or fifteen years ago might be the other side’s present operation and they’ve been looking for Dad to pick him up and torture him, or something. But to make it worse, triple-double worse (in NBA basketball terms), Dad’s own side thinks he went rogue. For non-spy speakers, that means they think he might have gone bad, turned to the dark side as we Jedi-minded people would say.

All this, and more, came out on Sunday. Not all this, I already knew… I’ve read books. Anyway, here’s how it went on Sunday afternoon.

Mom nodded for Dad to follow her into the tiny bathroom. I saw her glance at me, and then do her head nod.

“You know I can hear you talking in there, don’t you?’

Dad just looked at me.

“Dad,” I said dismissively. “I shot two men in their chest. Then shot them both in the forehead. I got their blood on me. And I helped you throw someone you killed off a train. I know about Pete and Viktar, another guy you killed. Did you shoot him or stab him? Maybe garrote him with a wire tucked in your belt?” I rattled on like a thirteen-year-old. “And I’m going to be dead in a matter of weeks. You don’t have to go in the bathroom to talk.”

I’d been sitting up in the bed reading on my tablet. I flopped over to my side, feeling kind of tired. But I kept my eyes on him. In my peripheral I saw mom was staring at Dad.

Dad looked at Mom, “Tomorrow, I’ll go to the bank and get whatever Pete put into that bundle. Ohmie has to be right on that. Then I’ll take it to the Embassy. I’ll activate my phone once I’m inside and call you. You and Ohmie can be at the airport ready to board.”

Mom thought a moment and nodded. She wasn’t one of those who had to hear an idea come out of their own mouth to hear it, or accept it.

The fallback was to return here, since we wouldn’t actually check out. And that’s what we did, late Monday evening. Mom really was a spook. After waiting in seats at the airport until nearly noon, we mixed into a crowd and left the airport. The crowd helped with cameras and personal surveillance, but it made it harder to get a cab. We got lucky, though, edging our way ahead of people, using our sex appeal, Mom being a looker, and well, I probably was, too, with my bosomy figure.

Mom had our cab drive us past the rooming apartment house. She’d given the driver an address just down the block so he was slowing down enough for her to give the area a good look over. Then she told him that she’d changed her mind, to take us back to a restaurant we’d passed back the other way. Not seeing anything amiss, she told him to stop. “Yes. Right here!” she scolded him. Oh, I forgot to mention that Mom spoke French and rudimentary German, enough to function, but not fool anyone.

We walked the block back to the room, a hassle since we had two suitcases. Mom’s eyes never quit. Our room was on the second floor. Mom made me stay in the lobby while she went up to check out the room. The stupid part of my brain thought “cool”, Dad and I are tied at two. Mom could catch up by shooting two guys in the room. That stupid idea lasted about a half a second, which was a half a second too long. All clear, she signaled for me to come up. Those two suitcases were all my weakened condition wanted. I was exhausted. Catching my breath was hard.

Dad got back to the room just after dark. He brought a bag of cold McDonald’s fish sandwiches. They were all right.

“Tom Dortch,” Dad said to Mom.

She didn’t reply, just waited for him. I think he was still hung up on what to say in front of me. Finally, he came to terms with it, visibly shrugging his shoulders and sighing. “He was in the lobby as I came out of the safe deposit box vault area. I saw him before he recognized me. I went back and returned the drive to the deposit box.”

“Why would you do that?” Mom asked.

I guess Mom didn’t do all that much fieldwork. Or it had been a long time. Since I was born, maybe.

“There was no good reason for him to be there. I figure he’s been staking out The Deutsche Bank and the Bank of Berlin by himself. He absolutely wasn’t there when I went in. And he was watching the entry, not the vault area when I came out. I think he made me as I left, but he didn’t communicate with anyone. It was not an organized operation.”

“Viktar was his,” Mom said. “You think he had something going with him? Between the two?”

“Dortch has no morals, no line he won’t cross to get the job done. I know him well enough to know that. After me doing Viktar, Dortch would visit Pete. It depends on Dortch’s loyalties at that point.”

Both Mom and Dad looked like they were thinking. Not babbling every thought that passed through their heads, but thinking.

“I’m glad you came back,” Dad said. “I mean, not that I want you or Ohmie to be exposed, but I …”

Dad choked up a little.

“I want to spend as much time as I can with … you two.”

I think he was saying with me before I died. Mom dabbed at her eyes and pinched her lips.

“Tell me,” Dad asked looking at Mom. “The good stuff on Viktar’s drive. Did it point to Ukraine, specifically the Russian-speaking Donetsk area?”

Mom said “yes," then added, "but that’s all I know. That’s when I put in for emergency leave. Paul knows about Ohmie’s…”

Paul was Mom’s boss. I knew that. What I didn’t know was that it was at the CIA.

Mom continued. “Paul would have called me the next day, or the day after that for sure. After leaving a message on the home phone, he would have tried my cell. Of course, I pulled the battery before leaving for the airport. He’s probably been to the house, or sent someone, Sarah, maybe.”

Dad nodded his head.

“Tom Dortch shouldn’t have been anywhere near Deus in Minsk. He had no business there, and his presence in Minsk only confused and conflicted my operation. They would never send him to that building as long as I was working Pete.”

“He was freelancing,” Mom said just before I was about to. I wished I’d been an instant quicker so I could contribute. Actually, so I could show off. Who was I kidding?

“You know,” Dad began, “something’s been bothering me since London. Those gay guys…”

Dad probably did realize what he’d done, but he nodded toward me. “Those gay guys that Ohmie killed were muttering nonsense. ‘I want to kees you.’”

“I thought it was weird, too. And it was not a British accent,” I said.

“My guess is some kind of Slavic, but I didn’t hear enough of it to know,” Dad said. “They were sent.”

“Dortch,” Mom said.

“Or somebody in the states, politics, if that’s who Dortch is working for.” I saw my comment ping-pong back and forth between Mom and Dad. An old pinball machine came to mind. I saw thoughts bounce around that neither one cared to put voice to.

“It was weird. I should have been summoned to Langley, not London. Dortch wanted me in London. The Company wouldn’t be that ridiculous, nor would they attempt anything with Ohmie there.” Dad nodded toward me. “What’s more motivating than money or … love?”

I beat Mom’s answer by a nanosecond. “A cause.”

They both nodded.