"Mustache"

"Why don't you just go out to the countryside?" Mom asks. I can hear the clack of her knitting needles over the shortwave, "It's not like your family there has died out or anything."

"They're family, Mom, that's the first place the FBI will check!" I tell her, "And on top of that, I'm harboring-"

I stop myself, taking a mental note to keep my voice low.

"I'm harboring an Abwehr agent and a GRU agent," I whisper, "Along with a former member of the Capone family. There's three and a half governments that want me thrown in jail for treason. Or worse."

"So seek asylum," she says. Were I not her son, I'd think she was joking.

"Ugh, Mom, you're breaking my fuckin' heart over here," I bury my face in my palms. Through my headphones, I can hear a vague chuckle from Antonioni across the room. My head stays down while I give him the finger.

"Go as far South as possible," she says, "Try Chile. With standoff between us, the Soviets, and Nazi Europe, Chile's the safest neutral state you can be in."

"...on the border of two countries allied with the Soviets," I sigh, "I might as well try Switzerland at that point."

"Quit being picky," she snaps, "You're in no position to be making choices here."

And she's right.

"Tonio," I take off a headphone, "Can you get us a boat to Chile?"

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