Behind the Mask (3 page)

“My life savings,” Georg answered, only mildly facetious. “Now, don’t waste your strength. Tell me what happened.”

“Nikolaus came . . . with Wurtzur.” His resignation didn’t begin to express his deepest fears. Looking up at his friend he added firmly, “I’m not going to get a fair trial, Georg—if I get one at all. It’s over for me.”

“Not if I have my way,” Georg insisted.

Cameron snapped at him. “You’re not in charge here and neither am I.” He groaned and hung his head. “Heaven help me, Georg. What have I done?”

“You haven’t
done
anything. Which is one of many reasons we’ve got to get you out of here.”

Cameron felt a little panicked at the implication. “Don’t do something stupid and land yourself in here, too. A fat lot of good that would do us.”

“You should know me better than that.” A key turned in the lock and he added quickly, in a whisper, “I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

Georg paused to look long and hard into Cameron’s eyes before leaving the cell. He hoped that Cameron knew he would stop at nothing to see this disaster undone. Georg knew Cameron was innocent because he knew him so well. But his own knowledge couldn’t change the evidence that was about to destroy an innocent man’s life unless something was done, and soon. There was only one choice as far as Georg could see, and God willing, it would succeed.

During the next few days Georg was able to contact certain people who were willing to help him, and he had to believe prayers were being answered. His belief that God had to be on their side was the only reason he had to hope that this was going to work.

Cameron was lying on the cold bunk as he had been for days now, looking hopelessly into the darkness above him. He wondered if they were just going to let him rot, or if they wanted him to heal enough to stand up straight when they shot him. He was hoping for the latter when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. A key turned begrudgingly in the lock and Cameron came to his feet, surprised to see two officers of the Guard and a priest wearing a hooded robe.

“What is this?” Cameron asked. “Last rites?”

No one responded. The officers took his arms firmly, and they followed the hooded figure down the hallway and out of the keep. Cameron was forced onto a horse, then told to follow the priest, who was already leaving the castle gate. His heart beat hard as the officers slipped unobtrusively back inside, and he knew this was far from any standard procedure. But he did as he’d been told, hoping this was an answer to his prayers. Catching up to his leader, he heard Georg’s voice come soberly from beneath the robe. “Just keep riding. When we hit the bottom of the hill and you hear the signal, jump into the river.”

“What?” he protested.

“You’re not in the keep anymore, Cameron, so shut up and be grateful. And do what you’re told.”

“You always had the brains.” Cameron had to chuckle. “What do I do once I’m in the river? Isn’t it a little cold to go swimming?”

“Just float downstream a little and I’ll catch up with you.”

“Just
float?”
Cameron asked skeptically, not liking the sound of this plan in the least.

“Leave the rest to me. Just listen for the signal,” he said as they approached the bridge at the bottom of the hill.

“What signal?” Cameron had to ask just before a gunshot rang out in the stillness of the night. He realized he was being shot at.

“That’s it!” Georg said. “Jump, you fool!” he added before galloping away.

Cameron had little choice but to do as he’d been told. He barely missed the bridge on his way down and wondered what other obstacles might be lurking in the darkness. The fall plunged him deeply into water that was so cold he felt certain the shock would stop his heart. No amount of summer air ever warmed water that came from a high mountain source. He came up gasping for breath and heard more gunfire, which prompted him to go back under. Following Georg’s order to
just float
didn’t prove terribly difficult when the current was far too wild to possibly attempt swimming. He focused on simply getting an occasional gulp of air that might keep him breathing. He was beginning to think that death by firing squad might be preferable to drowning when he heard Georg give a whistle that he recognized as one of their childhood signals. A minute later he felt the current slowing, and he knew exactly where he was. He and Georg had often played here on summer days in their youth, when lying in the hot sun had pleasantly compensated for swimming in the cold water. He swam toward shore and caught sight of Georg on the bank. His shivering prevented him from expressing gratitude for the strong hands that helped him out of the water. Georg just ushered him into a cluster of trees and provided him with a change of clothes. But it quickly became evident that Cameron was too cold to do anything at all. Unable to speak due to violent shivering, he was grateful when Georg picked up on the problem.

“Good heavens,” he muttered and frantically opened the buttons of Cameron’s shirt. “We’ve got to get you out of these wet clothes before you freeze to death.” Their eyes met, and Cameron knew that their thoughts had been drawn to the same memory. When they had been children, Georg had once ended up in the river at a time of year when the water was far too cold, and the results had been almost disastrous. But because of that experience Georg knew exactly what to do, and within minutes he had Cameron warmed up enough to believe that he might actually recover.

Pulling on a pair of dry breeches with only minor difficulty, Cameron finally managed to speak through chattering teeth. “What’s . . . going to happen to . . . those men who were supposed to . . . keep me locked up?”

“If they beat each other up enough, it’ll look like you fought your way out.”

Cameron groaned at the thought, wondering why anyone would make such sacrifices for him. “Now what?” he asked, still shivering. “The entire force will be out looking for me. They’ll catch up with me sooner or later. I can’t run forever.”

“You don’t have to run,” Georg said. “They think you’re dead.”

“What?”
he demanded, pausing in his effort to button his shirt with icy fingers.

“You were shot, and your body went down the river.”

“Oh, that’s just great!” Cameron’s sarcasm was intense.

“Just be glad your life is in my hands and not theirs,” Georg said as Cameron pulled on his boots. “Like you said, a fair trial just isn’t going to happen under the circumstances.”

Cameron sighed and swallowed hard, attempting to digest what this meant to his future. “All right,” he ventured, “if my life is in your hands, then tell me where I go now.”

“There’s only one place you
can
go,” Georg said, and Cameron wished he could see his expression. But if it hadn’t been such a dark night, they probably couldn’t have pulled this off.

“You can’t be serious,” Cameron said, perceiving the implication. “It’ll never work.”

“It’ll buy us time, Cam. That’s the best we can do for now.”

“They’ll find me eventually and—”

“Not necessarily. Think about it. You told me yourself that no one beyond you or me knows that place exists. At least no one still living. I just need to figure out who did this to you and why, and then—”

“And what if you can’t?” Cameron snapped.

“I’m giving you the best I could come up with,” Georg said with nothing but compassion. “Better this than a firing squad.”

“I’m sorry,” Cameron returned. “I am grateful to you, Georg. It’s just so . . .”

“I understand,” Georg said gently and Cameron made no response. What could the man possibly say? He was being banished from everything that mattered to him, and his only compensation was the gratitude he felt for at least being alive. “I didn’t kill her,” Cameron said, feeling the need to voice it.

“You don’t have to tell me that.” Georg glanced down and sighed. “I know you didn’t kill her.” Feeling the urgency of time passing, he went on quickly. The officers scouring the woods couldn’t be too far away. “I’ve left enough supplies to last for several weeks. I’ll leave more if it becomes necessary. Everything is there that you could possibly need. We’ll keep in touch the way we always have when you’ve been there.”

Cameron blew out a long breath. “I knew that would come in handy someday.” He chuckled in an effort to lighten the mood, but Georg only bowed his head and Cameron swallowed again, trying to grasp what his life might be like from this day forward.

“I also managed to get some of your things that I knew you would want.” Georg smiled. “Keepsakes, you might say.”

“How did you manage that?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“You’re amazing as always, Georg,” Cameron said, astounded freshly by his friend’s cunning and perception. “How can I thank you?” he added quietly, reaching out to grip Georg’s forearm firmly.

“Just take care of yourself and be patient. We’ll find a way.”

“Thank you, Georg,” Cameron said and his voice trembled. “I owe you my life.”

“Now we’re even,” Georg answered.

The two men embraced, then Cameron mounted the waiting horse and rode further into the forest.

Throughout the following days Abbi spent a great deal of time with Blaze, but she found her thoughts preoccupied with the documents hidden in her drawer. More than once she almost opened them, wanting so badly to know what they contained. But lives were at stake, and she was determined to heed her father’s instructions in every respect. Even Elsa, who was more a friend to her than a personal maid, did not share Abbi’s knowledge in this matter.

Abbi tried to imagine what could have possibly happened to make her father do something so bizarre. Trying to comprehend what it meant, she contemplated all she knew of him, and realized it was little. Since his wife’s death more than ten years earlier, Gerhard Albrecht had shown little interest in his daughter’s life. Abbi had been raised by her grandfather, who spoke of his son, Gerhard, grudgingly and with contempt when he mentioned him at all. Abbi had no idea what her father did to make a living; she only knew he had been disowned. She felt no real emotion for her father, simply because she hardly knew him. To her he was little more than a visitor, who rarely visited except on occasional holidays. Her only tender feelings for him were connected to the imperfect black pearl he’d given her soon after her mother’s death. The gift she wore around her neck was the only tangible connection she had to her father, but her sentiment was tied more into the symbolism he’d shared with her concerning the gift, rather than its being given to her by a man she hardly knew. But now he was in some kind of trouble, and Abbi felt afraid for him. As the seventeenth of the month drew closer, she began to watch for him at every turn. When the specified morning came and she hadn’t seen him, Abbi had to resign herself to carrying out her father’s assignment.

“I believe I’ll go into town this morning,” she said cautiously to her grandfather.

From the other end of the dining table Josef Albrecht looked up from his breakfast. “Alone?” he asked.

“You’ve let me do that before. You know I’ll be careful and—”

“Meeting that father of yours, I presume.”

Abbi was surprised. She wondered how he knew, but didn’t dare ask. “Yes,” she stated.

“I don’t know what kind of trouble that boy of mine has gotten himself into this time, but mind that you don’t get too caught up in it.”

“I’ll be careful, Papa.”

“I know you will, Princess,” he conceded. “Just mind how you go now. If you’re not back by noon, I’m sending Georg after you.”

“Yes, Papa.” She smiled warmly and he returned the gesture, but she didn’t miss the concern in his eyes.

Abbi rode quickly in order to arrive by ten. She wondered what to expect, and felt an ominous fear that he wouldn’t be there. As much as she wanted to know what was in that sealed packet of papers, the thought of having to open it according to his instructions frightened her. She was relieved to find her father waiting on a particular bench. He rose to greet her with a kiss on the cheek, but his smile couldn’t hide the fact that he was nervous.

“You’re safe,” Abbi said. “I’m so glad.”

Gerhard looked into her eyes, and Abbi’s relief waned. Despair washed over his expression, making her heart beat faster.