The Sands of Time (26 page)

Megan watched, tense, as Jaime made his way to the aisle and started toward the exit. No one seemed to pay any attention to him. When Jaime had disappeared from sight, Megan rose and started to leave. There was a roar from the crowd and she turned to look back at the bullring. A young matador was lying on the ground being gored by the savage bull. Blood was pouring onto the sand. Megan closed her eyes and offered up a silent prayer:
Oh, blessed Jesus, have mercy on this man. He shall not die, but he shall live. The Lord has chastened him sorely, but he has not given him over to death. Amen.
She opened her eyes, turned, and hurried out.

Jaime, Amparo, and Felix were waiting for her at the entrance.

“Let’s move,” Jaime said.

They started walking.

“What’s wrong?” Felix asked Jaime.

“The soldiers shot Tomás,” he said tersely. “He’s dead. And the police have Rubio. He was stabbed in a bar fight.”

Megan crossed herself. “What’s happened to Sister Teresa and Sister Lucia?” she asked anxiously.

“I don’t know about Sister Teresa. Sister Lucia has also been detained by the police.” Jaime turned to the others. “We have to hurry.” He looked at his watch. “The bank should be busy.”

“Jaime, maybe we should wait,” Felix suggested. “It’s going to be dangerous for just the two of us to hold up the bank now.”

Megan listened to what he was saying and thought:
That won’t stop him.
She was right.

The three of them were headed for the huge parking lot behind the arena. When Megan caught up with them, Felix was examining a blue Seat sedan.

“This should do,” he said.

He fumbled with the lock on the door for a moment, opened it, and put his head inside. He crouched down under the wheel, and a moment later the engine started.

“Get in,” Jaime told them.

Megan stood there uncertainly. “You’re stealing a car?”

“For Christ’s sake,” Amparo hissed. “Stop acting like a nun and get in the car.”

The two men were in the front seat, with Jaime at the wheel. Amparo scrambled into the back.

“Are you coming or not?” Jaime demanded.

Megan took a deep breath and got into the car next to Amparo. They started off. She closed her eyes.
Dear Lord, where are You leading me?

“If it makes you feel any better, Sister,” Jaime said, “we’re not stealing this car. We’re confiscating it in the name of the Basque army.”

Megan started to say something, then stopped. There was nothing she could say that would make him change his mind. She sat there in silence as Jaime drove toward the center of town.

He’s going to rob a bank,
Megan thought,
and in the eyes of God, I’ll be as guilty as he is.
She crossed herself and silently began to pray.

The Banco de Bilbao was on the ground floor of a nine-story apartment building on the Calle de Cervantes at the Plaza de Circular.

When the car pulled up in front of the building, Jaime said to Felix, “Keep the engine running. If there’s any trouble, take off and meet the others in Logroño.”

Felix stared at him in surprise. “What are you talking about? You’re not going in there
alone
? You can’t. The odds are too great, Jaime. It’s too dangerous.”

Jaime slapped him on the shoulder. “If they get hurt, they get hurt,” he said with a grin. He stepped out of the car.

They watched as Jaime walked into a leather-goods shop several doors down from the bank. A few minutes later he emerged carrying an attaché case. He nodded to the group in the car and entered the bank.

Megan could hardly breathe. She began to pray:

Prayer is a calling.

Prayer is a listening.

Prayer is a dwelling.

Prayer is a presence.

Prayer is a lamp aflame

with Jesus.

I am calm and filled with peace.

She was not calm and filled with peace.

Jaime Miró walked through the two sets of doors that led to the marble lobby of the bank. Inside the entrance, mounted high on the wall, he noted a security camera. He gave it a casual glance, then looked the room over. Behind the counters a staircase led to a second floor, where bank officers were working at desks. It was near closing time and the bank was filled with customers eager to finish transacting their business. There were lines of people in front of the three tellers’ cages, and Jaime noticed that several of the customers were carrying packages. He stepped into a line and patiently waited his turn.

When he reached the teller’s cage, he smiled pleasantly and said,
“Buenas tardes.”

“Buenas tardes, señor.
What can we do for you today?”

Jaime leaned against the window and pulled out the folded wanted poster. He handed it to the teller. “Would you take a look at this, please?”

The teller smiled. “Certainly,
señor.
”

He unfolded it, and when he saw what it was, his eyes widened. He looked up at Jaime, and panic was in his eyes.

“It’s a nice likeness, isn’t it?” Jaime said softly. “As you can tell from that, I have killed many people, so one more really won’t make a difference to me. Do I make myself understood?”

“P-perfectly,
señor.
P-perfectly. I have a family. I beg of you—”

“I respect families, so I will tell you what I want you to do to save your children’s father.” Jaime pushed the attaché case toward the teller. “I want you to fill this for me. I want you to do it quickly and quietly. If you truly believe that the money is more important than your life, then go ahead and raise the alarm.”

The teller shook his head. “No, no, no.”

He began to pull money out of the cash drawer and stuff it into the attaché case. His hands were trembling.

When the attaché case was full, the teller said, “There you are,
señor.
I—I promise you I won’t raise any alarm.”

“That’s very wise of you,” Jaime said. “I’ll tell you why,
amigo.
” He turned around and pointed to a middle-aged woman standing near the end of the line carrying a package wrapped in brown paper. “Do you see that woman? She is one of us. There is a bomb in that package. If the alarm should sound, she will set off the bomb instantly.”

The teller turned even paler. “No, please!”

“You will wait until ten minutes after she leaves the bank before you make a move,” Jaime warned.

“On my children’s life,” the teller whispered.

“Buenas tardes.”

Jaime took the attaché case and moved toward the door. He felt the teller’s eyes riveted on him.

He stopped beside the woman with the package.

“I must compliment you,” Jaime said. “That is a most becoming dress you are wearing.”

She blushed. “Why thank you,
señor—gracias.
”

“De nada.”

Jaime turned to nod to the teller, then strolled out of the bank. It would be at least fifteen minutes before the woman finished her business and left. By that time, he and the others would be long gone.

As Jaime came out of the bank and walked toward the car, Megan almost fainted with relief.

Felix Carpio grinned. “The bastard got away with it.” He turned to Megan. “I beg your pardon, Sister.”

Megan had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.
He did it,
she thought.
And all by himself. Wait until I tell the sisters what happened.
And then she remembered. She could never tell this to anyone. When she went back to the convent, there would be only silence for the rest of her life. It gave her an odd feeling.

Jaime said to Felix, “Move over,
amigo.
I’ll drive.” He tossed the attaché case into the backseat.

“Everything went well?” Amparo asked.

Jaime laughed. “Couldn’t have gone better. I must remember to thank Colonel Acoca for his calling card.”

The car started down the street. At the first corner, Calle de Tudela, Jaime made a left turn. Suddenly, appearing out of nowhere, a policeman moved in front of the car and held out a hand signaling him to stop. Jaime stepped on the brake. Megan’s heart began to pound.

The policeman walked over to the car.

Jaime asked calmly, “What’s the problem, Officer?”

“The problem,
señor,
is that you are driving the wrong way down a one-way street. Unless you can prove you are legally blind, you are in trouble.” He pointed to the sign at the entrance. “The street is clearly marked. Motorists are expected to respect a sign like that. That is the reason it has been placed there.”

Jaime said apologetically, “A thousand pardons. My friends and I were in such a serious discussion that I did not see the sign.”

The policeman was leaning into the driver’s window. He was studying Jaime, a puzzled expression on his face.

“You will be so good as to let me see your registration, please.”

“Of course,” Jaime said.

He reached down for the revolver that was under his jacket. Felix was ready to spring into action. Megan held her breath.

Jaime pretended to be searching his pockets. “I know I have it here somewhere.”

At that moment from across the plaza came a loud scream and the policeman turned to look. A man on the street corner was beating a woman, hitting her about the head and shoulders with his fists.

“Help!” she cried. “Help me! He’s killing me!”

The policeman hesitated for only an instant. “Wait here,” he commanded.

He raced back down the street toward the man and woman.

Jaime put the car in gear and slammed down on the accelerator. The car shot down the one-way street, scattering traffic headed toward them, horns angrily blaring at them. When they reached the corner, Jaime made another turn toward the bridge that led out of town on the Avenida Sanchez de Arjona.

Megan looked at Jaime and crossed herself. She could hardly breathe.

“Would you—would you have killed the policeman if that man had not attacked the woman?”

Jaime did not bother to answer.

“The woman wasn’t being attacked, Sister,” Felix explained. “Those were our people. We are not alone. We have many friends.”

Jaime’s face was grim. “We’re going to have to get rid of this car.”

They were leaving the outskirts of Valladolid. Jaime turned onto N620, the highway to Burgos, on the way to Logroño. He was careful to stay within the speed limit.

“We’ll get rid of the car as soon as we get past Burgos,” he announced.

I can’t believe this is happening to me,
Megan thought.
I escaped from the convent, I’m running away from the army, and I’m riding in a stolen car with terrorists who just robbed a bank. Lord, what else do You have in mind for me?

C
HAPTER
THIRTY-ONE

C
olonel Ramón Acoca and half a dozen members of the GOE were in the middle of a strategy meeting. They were studying a large map of the countryside.

The scarred giant said, “It’s obvious that Miró is heading north toward Basque country.”

“That could mean Burgos, Vitoria, Logroño, Pamplona, or San Sebastián.”

San Sebastián,
Acoca thought.
But I have to catch him before he reaches there.

He could hear the voice on the phone:
You’re running out of time.

He could not afford to fail.

They were driving through the rolling hills that heralded the approach to Burgos.

Jaime was quiet behind the wheel. When he finally spoke, he said, “Felix, when we get to San Sebastian, I want to make arrangements to get Rubio away from the police.”

Felix nodded. “It will be a pleasure. It will drive them crazy.”

Megan said, “What about Sister Lucia?”

“What?”

“Didn’t you say that she had been captured too?”

Jaime said wryly, “Yes, but your Sister Lucia turned out to be a criminal wanted by the police for murder.”

The news shook Megan. She remembered how Lucia had taken charge and persuaded them to hide in the hills. She liked Sister Lucia.

She said stubbornly, “As long as you’re going to rescue Rubio, you should save them both.”

What the devil kind of nun is this?
Jaime wondered.

But she was right. Smuggling Rubio and Lucia out from under the nose of the police would be wonderful propaganda and would make headlines.

Amparo had sunk into a sullen silence.

Suddenly, in the distance on the road ahead of them were three army trucks filled with soldiers.

“We’d better get off this road,” Jaime decided.

At the next intersection he turned off the highway and headed east.

“Santo Dominga de la Calzada is up ahead. There’s an old deserted castle there. We can spend the night in it.”

Before long they could see its outline from the distance, high on a hill. Jaime took a side road, avoiding the town, and the castle loomed larger and larger as they approached it. A few hundred yards from it was a lake.

Jaime stopped the car. “Everybody out, please.”

When they were all out of the car, Jaime pointed the steering wheel down the hill toward the lake, jammed the accelerator down, released the hand brake, and jumped clear. They stood there watching as the car disappeared into the water.

Megan was about to ask him how they were going to get to Logroño. She stopped herself.
Foolish question. He will steal another car, of course.

The group turned to examine the abandoned castle. There was a huge stone wall circling it, and it had crumbling turrets on each corner.

“In the old days,” Felix told Megan, “princes used these castles as prisons for their enemies.”

And Jaime is an enemy of the state, and if he is caught, there will be no prison for him. Only death,
Megan thought.
He has no fear.
She remembered his words:
I have faith in what I’m fighting for. I have faith in my men, and in my guns.

They walked up the stone steps that led to the front gate, which was made of iron. It had rusted away so badly that they were able to push it open and squeeze through into a courtyard paved in stone.

The inside of the castle seemed enormous to Megan. There were narrow passageways and rooms everywhere, and facing the outside were gunports, from which the defenders of the castle could repel attackers.

Stone steps led to a second floor, where there was another
claustro,
an inner patio. The stone steps narrowed as they walked up to a third floor, and then a fourth. The castle was deserted.

“Well, at least there are plenty of places to sleep here,” Jaime said. “Felix and I will go forage for food. Pick out your rooms.”

The two men started downstairs again.

Amparo turned to Megan. “Come on, Sister.”

They walked down the hall and the rooms all looked alike to Megan. They were empty stone cubicles, cold and austere, some larger than others.

Amparo picked out the largest. “Jaime and I will sleep here.” She looked at Megan and asked slyly, “Would you like to sleep with Felix?”

Megan looked at her and said nothing.

“Or perhaps you’d rather sleep with Jaime.” Amparo stepped closer to Megan. “Don’t get any ideas, Sister. He’s much too much man for you.”

“You don’t have to concern yourself. I’m not interested.” And even as she said it, Megan wondered whether Jaime Miró was much too much man for her.

When Jaime and Felix returned to the castle an hour later, Jaime was clutching two rabbits and Felix was carrying firewood. Felix bolted the front door behind them. Megan watched as the men made a fire in the large fireplace. Jaime skinned and cooked the rabbits on a spit over the fire.

“Sorry we can’t offer you ladies a real feast,” Felix said, “but we’ll eat well in Logroño. Meanwhile—enjoy.”

When they had finished their meager meal, Jaime said, “Let’s get to sleep. I want to get an early start in the morning.”

Amparo said to Jaime, “Come,
querido.
I have our bedroom picked out.”

“Bueno.
Let’s go.”

Megan watched them go upstairs, hand in hand.

Felix turned to Megan. “Do you have your bedroom, Sister?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“All right, then.”

Megan and Felix walked up the stairs together.

“Good night,” Megan said.

He handed Megan a sleeping bag. “Good night, Sister.”

Megan wanted to ask Felix about Jaime, but she hesitated. Jaime might think she was prying, and for some reason, Megan wanted very much for him to have a good opinion of her.
That’s really odd,
Megan thought.
He’s a terrorist, a murderer, a bank robber, and heaven only knows what else, and I’m worried about whether the man thinks well of me.

But even as Megan thought it, she knew that there was another side to it.
He’s a freedom fighter. He robs banks to finance his cause. He risks his life for what he believes in. He’s a brave man.

As Megan passed their bedroom, she heard Jaime and Amparo inside laughing. She walked into the small, bare room where she was to sleep and knelt on the cold stone floor. “Dear God, forgive me for—”
Forgive me for what? What have I done?

For the first time in her life, Megan was unable to pray. Was God up there listening?

She crawled into the sleeping bag Felix had given her, but sleep was as remote as the cold stars she could see through the narrow window.

What am I doing here?
Megan wondered. Her thoughts drifted back to the convent…the orphanage. And before the orphanage?
Why was I left there? I don’t really believe that my father was a brave soldier or a great bullfighter. But wouldn’t it be wonderful to know?

It was almost dawn before Megan drifted off to sleep.

At the prison in Aranda de Duero, Lucia Carmine was a celebrity.

“You’re a big fish in our little pond,” the guard told her. “The Italian government is sending someone to escort you home. I’d like to escort you to my house,
puta bonita.
What bad thing did you do?”

“I cut off a man’s balls for calling me
puta bonita.
Tell me—how is my friend?”

“He’s going to live.”

Lucia said a silent prayer of gratitude. She looked around the stone walls of her grim, gray cell and thought:
How the hell do I get out of here?