Shadow of Treason

by Tricia N. Goyer

  Michael looked to Sophie. “I’m tired of all of this. I’m ready to get out. Please. Take me with you. I can get us all to safety.”

  Walt glanced back at the door. Any moment, someone might appear. Though he realized he might regret it later, he hurried to Michael and helped him. Sophie ran forward and placed Michael’s free arm around her shoulders.

  Michael limped to the truck. His face was pale, and his body shuddered with pain.

  Walt helped him into the passenger side of the truck; then Michael handed Walt the keys.

  Michael turned to Sophie. “Do you see that large lever over there? If you flip it, the door will open.”

  Sophie did as he asked, and Walt started the truck. Then she jumped into the passenger’s seat next to Michael.

  “Drive toward the entrance,” Michael ordered. “Just before you get there, you’ll see another small tunnel to the right. It’s a private entrance. It’s guarded by only a few soldiers.”

  Walt drove the truck into the packed tunnel, and then followed the flow of men streaming toward the exit. Panic swept through the crowd. The guards called out to the Moors, warning them to stop and firing into the air.

  The Moors parted for the truck, but not as quickly as Walt wished. The truck rumbled along, and a few supervisors glanced toward it, but most paid them no mind.

  “Sophie, give me your jacket,” Michael ordered. She did, and Michael covered the wound in his leg. “Up ahead, to the right. Do you see the other tunnel?”

  Walt turned the steering wheel and followed Michael’s directions, hoping he wasn’t driving into a trap. The tunnel he drove into was far smaller than the main one, and he expected the rocks to scrape the side of the truck.

  After a short distance, the tunnel opened up again, and Walt saw the light of the moon. Two guards waited there. Walt thought about gunning it, trying to outrun them, but he slowed as one of the soldiers stepped in front of the entrance. The soldier raised his hand and motioned for the truck to stop.

  “Slow down. Stop for them.” Michael must have known Walt’s thoughts. “You can’t outrun them, I promise you. They’d hunt you down if you tried.”

  Walt stopped the truck, noticing the look on the guard’s face at his dark skin.

  “What is this?” one guard asked. Then he spotted Michael.

  “There is fire in the tunnels. We need to get this out as fast as possible.” Michael’s voice was firm.

  “Fire? Is that what all the commotion is about?”

  “Yes. Get on the line and call for help. In the meantime, we ’re taking these explosives to safety. I’ll be back for more soon.”

  The soldier nodded and motioned to the other guard to let them pass. Then he turned to the telephone.

  Walt drove the truck through the open gate, then turned in the direction of town. When he neared the outskirts, Walt pulled the truck to the side of the road.

  “Keep going,” Michael urged. “Are you insane?”

  “I was just going to run inside for a doctor. . . . I know someone here.”

  “I know many people, too. Many who may have figured out my involvement. Or will soon. Keep going. I’m fine. The bleeding has nearly stopped.” Michael sighed and rested his head against the back of the seat.

  “Michael, are you sure?” Sophie lifted her jacket and looked at the wound.

  “Yes, keep going.” Then Michael looked at Sophie ’s face. “Besides, Divina, you worked in the hospitals, correct?”

  “Yes, but I’ve never dealt with something like this on my own.”

  “Do not worry. If it gets worse, you can look at it. I trust you. You told me the truth about the gold. You urged me to listen. You were right; why did I think it would all be there?”

  “How long will it take to get back to the air base, where the others are?” Sophie asked.

  “Who?” Walt glanced over from the road for the briefest moment.

  “Cesar is there . . . with Philip.” She turned to Michael.

  “Philip is there, right? You promised me.”

  “It’ll take an hour. The plane is there, waiting for us.” There was a tremor in Michael’s voice. “And, yes, Philip is there. Just follow this road. Drive faster.”

  “Can you make it one hour? Will your leg be okay?” Sophie asked.

  “I have no choice, do I?” Michael winced. “And if you want to get this shipment out of Nationalist territory, Walt, I think you had better start praying I make it.”

  “I’m not a praying man.” Walt glanced over, and his eyes met Michael’s.

  Michael closed his eyes. “Then you depend on me more than you know.”

  “Don’t worry,” Sophie butted in. “I’ll pray.” She reached over and patted both Michael’s and Walt’s hands. “I’ll pray for all of us.”

  Sophie noticed the light from a lone window in the aircraft hangar welcoming them as they pulled up to the airfield. As expected, a large cargo plane waited for them, prepared to carry Michael and the gold to France. Walt parked the truck in the middle of a halfdozen others, then climbed from the truck. He hurried toward the building, as if looking for a means of escape. Before he reached the door, a dozen armed soldiers were upon him.

  “Hands where I can see them!” one man called in Spanish.

  “What is he doing?” Sophie murmured. “Is he trying to get himself killed?”

  She jumped from the truck and took two slow steps toward the building, wondering what she could possibly say or do to help. She also questioned where they held Philip. She hadn’t seen him since he was taken away in the black sedan outside her hotel room window five days ago. Yet Michael had told her Philip would be here. He ’d promised Philip’s safe return in exchange for everything she knew about Walt.

  She turned back to Michael, and he lifted his eyebrow as if waiting for her request.

  “Help me. Take me to Philip. And you have to help Walt.”

  Sophie had no choice but to hope that the caring man she ’d fallen in love with was still somewhere inside Michael. She had to trust he would follow through as he ’d promised.

  She helped him from the truck, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  “What’s going to happen now?” she asked as they limped toward the soldiers. When they were within ten feet, Sophie paused. Six men stood with guns pointed at Walt’s chest.

  Michael squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t let any harm come to you.”

  “I’m not worried about me. What about my friends, Walt and Philip?”

  “Is Philip simply a friend, Sophie? I have the feeling it is so much more.” He looked away. “Both men have committed crimes against Franco,” he continued in Spanish. “I’ll have to leave that up to the general to decide.”

  Hearing those words, one soldier approached, grabbing Walt ’s upraised arms and yanking them behind his back, then quickly snapping handcuffs onto his wrist.

  Sophie gasped and shrugged away from Michael’s side. “But you promised we ’d be safe . . . if I helped you.”

  “I told you I would keep the treasure safe. I also told you I’d reunite you with Philip. See . . .” Michael nodded his chin toward the hangar. Inside she could see Philip tied to a chair. Cesar waited by his side.

  Sophie pulled back from Michael’s touch. “What are you going to do to him?”

  “That’s not for me to decide.”

  “Can I go to him?”

  “Depends.” Michael took a step back, favoring his injured leg. “On whether you want to travel with me to France or offer yourself to the mercy of Franco’s courts.”

  Michael motioned to the soldiers. All of them except the one who held Walt at gunpoint moved to the truck with the gold.

  With two men to a box, they transferred the boxes to the aircraft. When the last box of gold was loaded, they shut the cargo door.

  Sophie sucked in a breath. “But I showed you the truth of what happened to it. Half of it is already gone, sold by Franco.”

  “I
know, and that is a shame. But I promise you the rest will go to a more deserving buyer. The gold will be protected. I give you my word.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him through the dimness of the night. “Just as you promised you’d take care of Philip? As you promised you wouldn’t hurt Walt?”

  “I did take care of them. I dare you to find a scratch on either man.” Michael jutted out his chin. “You choose, Sophie. Do you want to go with me to France, or stay? It’s up to you.”

  She turned to gaze at Walt. “The gold . . . it’s going to be lost now. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s out of your hands now, Sophie. Don’t trust this man. . . .”

  “Silence!” Michael shouted, hobbling over to Walt. Then he turned to Sophie, softening his voice. “Don’t listen to him.” He spoke just above a whisper. “It is all I ever wanted, Divina. To take care of you. To make sure you are safe. We have a house in France I purchased for us, remember? Finally you can be safe there.”

  “Walt’s right. . . . I can’t trust you. The gold is yours now, and nothing I can say or do will change that . . . or make you use it for a better cause. I’m staying.”

  She took a step closer to Walt, then turned to look in the window of the hangar. Philip’s eyes were blindfolded, and she wished she could run to him, apologize for getting him mixed up in this mess, explain that what he had seen at the train station was simply an act. Instead she stood in silence at Walt’s side, watching the men transfer the remainder of the gold to the aircraft.

  When they finished loading, the small group of soldiers approached.

  “You two”—Michael pointed to two soldiers—“relieve Cesar and tell him we are leaving. The rest of you, take care of our prisoners. Tie them up. In just a few hours someone from the police station will arrive to pick them up. I made the arrangements last night before we left for the tunnel. Of course,” he added, “Walt—or whatever his real name is—is a bonus. I told them to

  expect only two.”

  “So you planned to turn in Philip and me from the beginning?”

  Michael shrugged. “I hoped you’d get some sense. But I’m not surprised. You have always chosen poorly . . . choosing to stand for what you believe is just without understanding the whole picture.”

  Sophie could see heartache in his gaze. He truly believed in Franco’s cause.

  With one slow step Michael approached her, placing a firm kiss on her lips. Sophie jerked her head away.

  “Goodbye, Divina,” he whispered.

  Sophie refused to respond as she watched Cesar help Michael to the cargo plane. Tears came, but they were not for Michael. What had her actions brought on Walt and Philip?

  In silence they watched as the aircraft prepared for takeoff, then disappeared into the night sky.

  Sophie ’s knees trembled as she wondered what would happen next. It was easy to talk brave—harder to accept where those words led.

  Without a word, the soldiers led Sophie and Walt inside the building. One soldier, who appeared to be in charge, approached the men guarding Philip. “Untie him. And hurry.”

  “What’s going on? Don’t hurt him,” she called out.

  “Sophie?” Philip’s head lifted and he turned his face to her voice.

  A soldier removed the blindfold from his eyes.

  Philip blinked a few times, then focused on her face. “What’s happening? Where are we?” Then his blue eyes widened. “Who was that man you were with? Was it Michael? Is your fiancé alive?”

  Even though they were held at gunpoint by soldiers, Sophie realized this was the question that burned in Philip’s mind.

  “It was my fiancé. And, yes, he lives. He staged his death, along with other lies. He ’s gone now . . . out of my life for good.”

  Sophie waited for the soldiers to silence them, but instead they continued to untie Philip. When he was free, the soldier in charge motioned for Philip to stand.

  She took a step toward him. “Are you all right?”

  He shrugged. “If you call being held by enemy soldiers for a week, continually reliving that moment I saw you with . . . with him in my mind ‘all right,’ then I guess I’m dandy.” He glanced at the others, as if waiting for what would happen next.

  Even Walt stood silent, waiting.

  “Michael lied to me,” she explained. “He said if I helped him you’d go free.”

  “And you believed him?” Philip shook his head. “And you managed to get mixed up in the middle of this?”

  Sophie nodded. “Yes, I did—to both questions.” She could read more in his gaze, and knew what he really wanted to ask.

  Instead Philip turned to Walt. “And the gold . . . did you find it?”

  “How did you know about the gold?”

  “I overheard the men talking.”

  “We found some, but not all of it,” Sophie answered for him.

  “They sold it . . . to fund Franco’s work?”

  “Yes. Most likely they sold it for weapons at a fraction of its value. But there are a few things that are more important right now. Like our lives . . .” She looked at the soldier in charge.

  Walt cleared his throat. “Can you hurry this up? I’m waiting for you to kiss and make up.” With a wave of his hand he motioned to the soldiers. Without a word, they left the room.

  Sophie turned to him and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  Walt shrugged. “I knew the shipment was set to leave Spain. And there was only one airport planning to transport heavy cargo to France. Once I found the right tunnel, with your help, I knew this had to be the right place. Then it was just a matter of calling my contacts to make sure the soldiers would work to my best interest . . . without Michael finding out, of course.”

  “Those thugs work for you?” Philip rubbed the red marks on his arms left by the ropes.

  “Yes, though we don’t have much time to chat.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know about the police. They aren’t on my payroll. We need to go immediately.” Walt turned to leave.

  “But the gold.” Sophie grasped Walt’s arm. “You let him fly away with it. After all that?”

  Walt readjusted his fedora. “Now, does that sound like something I’d do?” He motioned to the door. “Follow me.”

  Philip took Sophie ’s hand, rubbing his fingers over the back of it as they hurried to the trucks parked outside. Walt moved to the third one in line and opened the canvas. Sophie gasped as she saw it was filled with white ammunition boxes. Walt lifted the lid on one, and Sophie saw that it was filled with gold.

  Philip picked up a handful of gold coins. “I don’t understand. How did you do it?”

  “I saw them . . . the soldiers.” Sophie peered closer in disbelief. “I watched them load the boxes into the plane.”

  “Yes, they loaded boxes. But not these.” He pointed to a second truck parked right beside the one they drove from the tunnel. Walt patted her shoulder. “You, my dear, made a wonderful distraction. I’m sorry to use you like that, but with his attention on you, Michael didn’t even notice they unloaded the wrong truck.”

  “You counted on that . . . that confrontation?”

  “I hoped.” Walt smiled. “And you did not disappoint. I wish I could see Michael’s face when his gold is unloaded in France. Won’t his buyers be surprised, too?”

  A shiver ran down Sophie ’s spine. “How come I have a feeling that isn’t the last We’ll see of Michael?” She clung tighter to Philip’s hand and took a step toward him, pressing her cheek against his jacket.

  Walt motioned to the cab of the truck. “I have no doubt that we will. But for now, he isn’t our greatest concern.”

  Sophie hurried to the cab and climbed in. Philip slid in beside her.

  Walt started the truck, then turned to her. “Any ideas for getting out of Nationalist territory with three Republican sympathizers and a truckload of priceless gold? If so, I’d love to hear them.” Then he drove the truck toward the gates. Two soldi
ers motioned him through with a wave. Walt turned to the right onto a main road.

  “Are you serious?” Philip’s eyes widened. “You don’t have a plan?”

  “What about your contacts?” Sophie asked. “You have a hand in everything when it comes to Spain.”

  Philip blew out another breath as he looked out the window. Sophie followed his gaze and noticed in the distance the smallest line of pink sunlight brightening the horizon. “And just think. I came to Spain to help a friend run a race. . . .”

  “That ’s it.” Walt snapped his fingers in the air. Then he glanced to Philip. “I might just have an idea.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Sophie commented. She turned to Philip. “I’m sorry to get you into the middle of all this.”

  Philip shook his head. “I don’t know . . . it ’s as if you planned it.” He took her hand again. “For some reason we’ve all been called to Spain to help in ways we’ve never expected. Called by Someone with a greater plan than our own.”

  Epilogue

  Weeks after the other exhibits of the World ’s Fair had opened, Father Manuel heard that the Spanish Pavilion was being unveiled. Even though it wasn’t on the map, he had no problem finding it—he ’d walked by it on numerous occasions during the previous week, watching its construction. Though it seemed a long shot, he hoped that he ’d see someone familiar. It felt strange for him to think only of himself, care for only himself, in such a large city.

  He sucked in a breath as he noticed the Nazi Germany Pavilion standing erect next to the Spanish one. Numerous flags waved in the breeze, and the image of the black swastika caused anger to boil inside his chest. He balled his fists, remembering those very symbols on the wings of the bombers as they had swept down over his town. Never had such intense hatred filled his soul, and Father Manuel didn’t know how to face it. God asked that he forgive, but how could he? How could anyone after such atrocities?

  The Nazi Germany Pavilion rose like a tall tower into the air. A large eagle rested on the top. Its magnificent presence seemed to dare anyone who attempted to bring down its glory. Crowds milled around the entrance, and Father Manuel thought of the idols worshiped by the Israelites numerous times during their history. History repeated itself, he supposed. Idols rising into the sky. Symbols of the evil schemes of men’s hearts. A shudder traveled down his spine just thinking about it.