The answer came while she slept. Sophie awoke to a knock at the bedroom door and men's voices. She rose from her siesta, opened the door, and rubbed her eyes against the light. A gasp escaped her when she discovered Emanuel waiting there. He had feared for them when he saw the washed-out road, and was looking for them when he happened on the old man and his daughter walking away from the house.
The man's timing came from the hand of God. He not only reassured Walt that he wanted to help, but he'd already prepared a hiding place for the truck and had "obtained" fuel for their journey.
Now the truck rumbled down the road, with four passengers crammed in the front seat. They neared the hills surrounding Granada, and Sophie saw a castle on a tall hill. Emanuel directed them through the mountains, but Sophie questioned every turn. The roads were no more than wide paths, winding through the hills. Eventually, just as Emanuel had promised, the narrow road opened up to a series of caves.
"It was the long way, but it got us here." Emanuel jumped down from the truck.
Sophie followed, with Philip's help. He took her hand as she jumped to the ground. Sadness filled his eyes.
"Are you worried about Badger? He'll be taken care of." She gave his hand a squeeze.
Philip pushed his hands into his pockets. "I know, I know. And that's why I agreed he should stay at the village. He'll be fine there . . . ."
Walt parked the truck in a large cave.
Emanuel approached Walt as he climbed down from the truck. "Although you cannot see them, there are friendly guards posted all along the road. Most of Franco's soldiers don't come in this area because it's too easy to get lost. Others don't come for the reason that those who do enter these hills often don't return."
He smiled as he spoke, and Sophie's eyes widened as she wondered how someone so friendly could also be so fierce.
Emanuel swept his arm in the direction of a smaller cave. "Follow me. I would like to introduce you to the others." He took two steps and paused. "They are willing to help, even though they do not know the nature of your shipment."
"I appreciate this." Walt placed a hand on Emanuel's shoulder. "Just trust that your group will be richly rewarded for their help."
Philip stayed back. "I can wait here." He glanced toward the truck.
"Nonsense. We're safe. The truck is safe." Walt motioned him forward.
Sophie entered the cave, and the first thing she noticed was a handsome man stirring a fire. The glow lit his face. He had a thin moustache, and a black and red bandanna graced his neck. A huge pistol hung from a belt over his shoulder. His face was kind, though she could imagine from his muscular frame and square jaw that he could be fierce if necessary.
Sophie sidled up to Walt. "I don't understand what this place is."
Emanuel answered. "It is the center of our partisan activity. We are teaching people to sabotage behind enemy lines."
"Those on the front can only do so much, and much of their effort is thwarted because the soldiers see them coming," Walt added. "These men work behind the lines—and they have great success because the element of surprise is on their side."
"Come, I will show you." Emanuel motioned to the back of the cave. "I will teach you first to make switches. Then detonate fuses. Finally, to set them."
Sophie turned to Philip.
He held back a laugh. "You prayed for this, didn't you? Prayed that we'd be able to transport all the gold and use it to help the people?"
Sophie crossed her arms and then rubbed them, as if trying to brush away the damp, eerie feeling of the cave. "Well, if I did, I surely didn't expect this answer."
Philip placed a hand on the small of her back and led her forward. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll do fine. Your fingers are used to the delicate touch of a paintbrush. How different do you think working with thin wires can be?"
José eased back on the reins, motioning for Calisto to stop. In the distance, dense columns of smoke rose from the town of Ca-margo. He'd witnessed the bombers descending mere hours ago and hoped the damage would be minimal . . . but the destruction surpassed his worst fears. His heart pounded as he wondered if he'd arrived too late.
Townspeople were leaving with suitcases and bundles on their backs as they toiled in the mud from last night's rain. The feet of one man, burdened under his load, slid backward on the uphill path, and José's heart hurt for him—for all of them.
He motioned Calisto forward, approaching a different man. "Excuse me. Is the hospital still in town?"
"Hospital? No. There is nothing. Just an occasional patrol."
It wasn't until Calisto trotted away that José realized he hadn't thanked the man. He hurried toward the town, staying close to hedgerows, taking advantage of every bit of cover he could find. He saw a large oak and guessed he'd get a better look into town from its branches. He dismounted, then climbed up the tree. But another sight caught his attention—Petra coming up the road on Erro.
José cursed under his breath and then scampered down. As he ran to her he chided himself for trusting the girl. She was too strong-willed for her own good. Just like Ramona.
"What are you doing? Do you want Erro to get taken? If the enemy sees him . . ."
"Wait, José. Just listen. I wanted to help. I've discovered something. There is some type of truck up ahead, with nurses in it. I saw it from where I was. It is stuck in a muddy pit leading out of town."
"Nurses?"
"They were wearing uniforms and caring for injured men. I thought perhaps . . ."
"Sí. You leave this to me." He nodded, hoping she understood he was thankful. He turned his horse. "Head back into the hills with Erro. I'll meet you there."
"Can't I go with you?"
He slowed and turned. "No. Petra, please, won't you listen?"
"Sí, José. I'm sorry." She turned and rode the horse back up the hill.
José watched till she disappeared from view within the covering of trees. He shook his head. He didn't know why he so easily grew angry with the girl.
He rode in a field along the road, past a small farmhouse on the edge of town. Pink roses rambled across the dark fence. Behind him, from near the church, he could hear the crack of bullets fired. José hoped it wasn't at him, and he signaled with the sides of his calves for Calisto to pick up his pace.
Up ahead, he noticed the truck Petra spoke of, but now there was only a driver keeping guard.
"The nurses, where have they gone?" José asked hurriedly.
The driver eyed him cautiously. Eyed Calisto, too.
"Señor, one of them is my wife. Ramona . . ."
"Ramona, yes." The driver nodded down the road. "They moved the patients there."
José spotted a small house half hidden behind an overgrown and untended hedge.
"Thank you." José motioned Calisto forward.
Reaching it, he tied up the horse and walked around the corner of the house, looking cautiously through a window. More rifle fire sounded from where he'd just come. He thought about moving Calisto, finding a safer place, but he knew he couldn't waste time. Through the window he indeed spotted nurses, but Ramona was not one of them.
José hurried to the door and entered without knocking. Before he could speak, a man—the doctor most likely—lifted a gun toward José's chest. José stopped in his tracks.
"José!" came a voice from somewhere in the back of the room.
A woman hurried toward him, but it was not Ramona. His heart sank. It was Ramona's friend—a bridesmaid at their wedding, if he remembered right.
"José, what are you doing here? Why aren't you with Ramona?"
"What do you mean? I came to find her. To take her with me."
The woman's face scrunched into a frown. "But I don't understand. Your friend, he came to get her not more than an hour ago."
"My friend?"
"Yes, the American. He said you were taking care of the horses, and he had come for her. He was taking her to you."
"Michael. Are you talking about Michael?"
The nurse nodded. "Yes, that was his name. He said you'd been friends since you were children. He had a camera. He said he was a correspondent or something."
The energy drained from José's limbs.
"José? Are you okay?"
"Tell me; did he say where they were going?"
The woman turned to another nurse. "You heard the conversation. Did the American say?"
"No, I'm sorry," the woman answered. "All he said was he was taking her to you."
José hurried out of the house, trying to think of all the possibilities. He rounded the corner, then stopped in his tracks. Calisto was gone.