"Preserve me, O God, for in Thee I take refuge. Thou art my Lord; I have no good apart from Thee. I love Thee, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer..."
Sister Megan glanced up to see Felix Carpio watching her, a concerned expression on his face.
She's really frightened, he thought.
Ever since they started their journey, he had seen Sister Megan's deep anxiety. Of course. It's only natural She's been locked up in a convent for God only knew how many years, and now she's suddenly thrown out into a strange, terrifying world. We'll have to be very gentle with the poor girl
Sister Megan was indeed frightened. She had been praying hard ever since she left the convent.
Forgive me, Lord, for I love the excitement of what is happening to me, and I know that it is wicked of me.
But no matter how hard Sister Megan prayed, she could not help thinking. I don't remember when I've had such a good time. It was the most amazing adventure she had ever had. In the orphanage she had often planned daring escapes, but that was child's play. This was the real thing. She was in the hands of terrorists, and they were being pursued by the police and the army. But instead of being terrified, Sister Megan felt strangely exhilarated.
After traveling all night they stopped at dawn. Megan and Amparo Jiron stood by as Jaime Miro and Felix Carpio huddled over a map.
"It's four miles to Medina del Campo," Jaime said. "Let's avoid it. There's a permanent army garrison stationed there. We'll keep heading northeast to Valladolid. We should reach it by early afternoon."
Easily, Sister Megan thought happily.
It had been a long and grueling night, without rest, but Megan felt wonderful. Jaime was deliberately pushing the group, but Megan understood what he was doing. He was testing her, waiting for her to crack. Well, he's in for a surprise, she thought.
As a matter of fact, Jaime Miro found himself intrigued with Sister Megan. Her behavior was not at all what he would have expected of a nun. She was miles away from her convent, traveling through strange territory, being hunted, and she seemed to be actually enjoying it. What kind of nun is she? Jaime Miro wondered.
Amparo Jiron was less impressed. I'll be glad to be rid of her, she thought. She stayed close to Jaime, letting the nun walk with Felix Carpio.
The countryside was wild and beautiful, caressed by the soft fragrance of the summer wind. They passed old villages, some of them deserted and forlorn, and saw an ancient abandoned castle high on a hill.
Amparo seemed to Megan like a wild animal - gliding effortlessly over hills and valleys, never seeming to tire.
When, hours later, Valladolid finally loomed up in the distance, Jaime called a halt.
He turned to Felix. "Everything is arranged?"
"Yes."
Megan wondered exactly what had been arranged, and found out very quickly.
"Tomas is instructed to contact us at the bullring."
"What time does the bank close?"
"Five o'clock. There will be plenty of time."
Jaime nodded. "And today there should be a fat payroll."
Good Lord, they're going to rob a bank, Megan thought.
"What about a car?" Amparo was asking.
"No problem," Jaime assured her.
They're going to steal one, Megan thought. It was a little more excitement than she had bargained for. God isn't going to like this.
When the group reached the outskirts of Valladolid, Jaime warned, "Stay with the crowds. Today is bullfight day and there will be thousands of people. Let's not get separated."
Jaime Miro had been right about the crowds. Megan had never seen so many people. The streets were swarming with pedestrians and automobiles and motorcycles, for the bullfight had drawn not only tourists but citizens from all the neighboring towns. Even the children on the street were playing at bullfighting.
Megan was fascinated by the crowds, the noise, and the bustle around her. She looked into the faces of passersby and wondered what their lives were like. Soon enough I'll be back in the convent where I won't be allowed to look at anyone's face again. I might as well take advantage of this while I can.
The sidewalks were filled with vendors displaying trinkets, religious medals and crosses, and everywhere was the pungent smell of fritters frying in boiling oil.
Megan suddenly realized how hungry she was.
It was Felix who said, "Jaime, we're all hungry. Let's try some of those fritters."
Felix bought four of them and handed one to Megan. "Try this, Sister. You'll like it."
It was delicious. For so many of her years, food was meant not to be enjoyed, but to sustain the body for the glory of the Lord. This one's for me, Megan thought irreverently.
"The arena is this way," Jaime said.
They followed the crowds past the park in the middle of town to the Plaza Poinente, which flowed into the Plaza de Toros. The arena itself was inside an enormous adobe structure, three stories high. There were four ticket windows at the entrance. Signs on the left said SOL, and on the right, SOMBRA. Sun or shade. There were hundreds of people standing in the lines waiting to purchase tickets.
"Wait here," Jaime ordered.
They watched him as he walked over to where half a dozen scalpers were hawking tickets.
Megan turned to Felix. "Are we going to watch a bullfight?"
"Yes, but don't worry, Sister," Felix reassured her. "You will find it exciting."
Worry? Megan was thrilled by the idea. At the orphanage, one of her fantasies had been that her father had been a great torero, and Megan had read every book on bullfighting that she could get her hands on.
Felix told her, "The real bullfights are held in Madrid and Barcelona. The bullfight here will be by novilleros, instead of professionals. They are amateurs. They have not been granted the altemativa."
Megan knew that the altemativa was the accolade given only to the top-ranked matadors.
"The ones we will see today fight in rented costumes, instead of the gold-encrusted suit of lights, against bulls with filed, dangerous horns that the professionals refuse to fight."
"Why do they do it?"
Felix shrugged. "Hambre hace mas dano que las cuemas. Hunger is more painful than horns."
Jaime returned holding four tickets. "We're all set," he said. "Let's go in."
Megan felt a growing sense of excitement.
As they approached the entrance to the huge arena, they passed a poster plastered to the wall. Megan stopped and stared at it.
"Look!"
There was a picture of Jaime Miro, and under it:
WANTED FOR MURDER
JAIME MIRo
ONE MILLION PESETAS REWARD
FOR HIS CAPTURE
DEAD OR ALIVE.
Suddenly it brought back to Megan the sober realization of the kind of man she was traveling with, the terrorist who held her life in his hands.
Jaime was studying the picture. Brazenly he pulled off his hat and dark glasses and faced his portrait. "Not a bad likeness." He ripped the poster off the wall, folded it, and put it in his pocket.
"What good will that do?" Amparo said. "They must have posted hundreds of them."
Jaime grinned. "This particular one is going to bring us a fortune, querida." He put his hat and glasses back on.
What a strange remark, Megan thought. She could not help admiring his coolness. There was an air of solid competence about Jaime Miro that Megan found reassuring. The soldiers will never catch him, she thought.
"Let's go inside."
There were twelve widely spaced entrances to the building. The red iron doors had been flung open, each one numbered. Inside the entrance there were puestos selling Coca-Cola and beer, and next to them were small toilet cubicles. In the stands, each section and seat was numbered. The tiers of stone benches made a complete circle, and in the center was the large arena covered with sand. There were commercial signs everywhere: BANCO CENTRAL...BOUTIQUE CALZADOS...SCHWEPPES...RADIO POPULAR...
Jaime had purchased tickets for the shady side, and as they sat down on the stone benches, Megan looked around in wonder. It was not at all as she had imagined it. When she was a young girl, she had seen romantic color photographs of the bullring in Madrid, huge and elaborate. This was a makeshift ring. The arena was rapidly filling up with spectators.
A trumpet sounded. The bullfight began.
Megan leaned forward in her seat, her eyes wide. A huge bull charged into the ring, and a matador stepped out from behind a small wooden barrier at the side of the ring and began to tease the animal.
"The picadors will be next," Megan said excitedly.
Jaime Miro looked at her in wonder. He had been concerned that the bullfight would make her ill and that she would attract attention to them. Instead, she seemed to be having a wonderful time. Strange.
A picador was approaching the bull, riding a horse covered with a heavy blanket. The bull lowered its head and charged at the horse, and as it buried its horns in the blanket, the picador drove an eight-foot lance into the bull's shoulder.
Megan was watching, fascinated. "He's doing that to weaken the bull's neck muscles," she explained, remembering the well-loved books she had read all those years ago.
Felix Carpio blinked in surprise. "That's right, Sister."
Megan watched as the pairs of colorfully decorated banderillas were slammed into the bull's shoulders.
Now it was the matador's turn. He stepped into the ring holding at his side a red cape with a sword inside it. The bull turned and began to charge.
Megan was getting more excited. "He will make his passes now," she said. "First the pose veronica, then the media-veronica, and last the rebolera."
Jaime could contain his curiosity no longer. "Sister - where did you learn all this?"
Without thinking, Megan said, "My father was a bullfighter. Watch!"
The action was so swift, Megan could barely follow it. The maddened bull kept charging at the matador, and each time he neared him, the matador swung his red cape to the side and the bull followed the cape. Megan was concerned.
"What happens if the bullfighter gets hurt?"
Jaime shrugged. "In a place like this, the town barber will take him over to the barn and sew him up."
The bull charged again, and this time the matador leaped out of the way. The crowd booed.
Felix Carpio said apologetically, "I am sorry this is not a better fight, Sister. You should see the great ones. I have seen Manolete and el Cordobes and Ordonez. They made bullfighting a spectacle never to be forgotten."
"I have read about them," Megan said.
Felix asked, "Have you ever heard the wonderful story about Manolete?"
"Which story?"
"At one time, the story goes, Manolete was just another bullfighter, no better and no worse than a hundred others. He was engaged to a beautiful young girl, but one day when Manolete was in the ring, a bull gored him in the groin and the doctor patched him up and told him that he would no longer be able to have children. Manolete loved his fiancee so much that he didn't tell her, because he was afraid she wouldn't marry him. They married and a few months later she proudly told Manolete that she was going to have a baby. Well, of course he knew that it wasn't his baby, and he left her. The heartbroken girl killed herself. Manolete reacted like a madman. He had no more desire to live, so he went into the bullring and did things that no matador had ever done before. He kept risking his life, hoping to be killed, and he became the greatest matador in the world. Two years later he fell in love again and married a young lady. A few months after the wedding she came to him and proudly announced that she was going to have his baby. And that's when Manolete discovered that the doctor had been wrong."
Megan said, "How awful."
Jaime laughed aloud. "That's an interesting story. I wonder if there is any truth to it."
"I would like to think so," Felix said.
Amparo was listening, her face impassive. She had watched Jaime's growing interest in the nun with resentment. The sister had better watch her step.
Aproned food vendors were moving up and down the aisles calling out their wares. One of them approached the row where Jaime and the others were seated.
"Empanadas," he called out. "Empanadas caliente."
Jaime raised a hand. "Aqui."
The vendor skillfully tossed a wrapped package across the crowd into Jaime's hands. Jaime handed ten pesetas to the man next to him to be passed to the vendor. Megan watched as Jaime lowered the wrapped empanada to his lap and carefully opened it. Inside the wrapping was a piece of paper. He read it, then read it again, and Megan saw his jaw tighten.
Jaime slipped the paper into his pocket. "We're leaving," he said curtly. "One at a time." He turned to Amparo. "You first. We'll meet at the gate."
Wordlessly, Amparo got up and made her way across to the aisle.
Jaime then nodded to Felix, and Felix rose and followed Amparo.
"What is happening?" Megan asked. "Is something wrong?"
"We're leaving for Logrono." He rose. "Watch me, Sister. If I'm not stopped, go to the gate."
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 Tomas," 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 Logrono."
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 attache 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 Miro 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, senor. 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, senor."
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, senor. 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 attache 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 attache case. His hands were trembling.
When the attache case was full, the teller said, "There you are, senor. 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 attache 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, senor - 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 attache 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, senor, 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 Logrono. 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?