Hesitantly, Sister Teresa pointed to the lights of avila in the distance and signed, That way. Uncertainly, they began to move toward the town.
Watching them from the hills above, Lucia thought: No, you idiots! That's the first place they'll look for you. Well, that's your problem. I have my own problems. She stood there a moment, watching them walk toward their doom, going to their slaughter. Shit
Lucia scrambled down the hill, stumbling over the loose scree, and ran after them, her cumbersome habit slowing her down.
"Wait a minute," she called. "Stop!"
The sisters stopped and turned.
Lucia hurried up to them, out of breath. "You're going the wrong way. The first place they'll search for you is in town. You've got to hide out somewhere."
The three sisters stared at her in silence.
Lucia said impatiently, "The mountains. Get up to the mountains. Follow me."
She turned and started back toward the mountains. The others watched, and after a moment they began to trail after her, one by one.
From time to time Lucia looked back to make sure they were following. Why can't I mind my own business? she thought. They're not my responsibility. It's more dangerous if we're all together. She kept climbing, making sure they stayed in sight.
The others were having a hard time of it, and every time they slowed down, Lucia stopped to let them catch up with her. I'll get rid of them in the morning.
"Let's move faster," Lucia called.
At the convent, the raid had come to an end. The dazed nuns, their habits torn and blood-stained, were being rounded up and put into unmarked, closed trucks.
"Take them back to my headquarters in Madrid," Colonel Acoca ordered. "Keep them in isolation."
"What charge - ?"
"Harboring terrorists."
"Yes, Colonel," Patricio Arrieta said. He hesitated. "Four of the nuns are missing."
Colonel Acoca's eyes turned cold. "Find them."
Colonel Acoca flew back to Madrid to report to the prime minister.
"Jaime Miro escaped before we reached the convent."
Prime Minister Martinez nodded. "Yes, I heard." And he wondered whether Jaime Miro had ever been there to begin with. There was no doubt about it. Colonel Acoca was getting dangerously out of control. There had been angry protests about the brutal attack on the convent. The prime minister chose his words carefully. "The newspapers have been hounding me about what happened."
"The newspapers are making a hero of this terrorist," Acoca said, stone-faced. "We must not let them pressure us."
"He's causing the government a great deal of embarrassment, Colonel. And those four nuns - if they talk - "
"Don't worry. They can't get far. I'll catch them and I'll find Miro."
The prime minister had already decided that he could not afford to take any more chances. "Colonel, I want you to be sure the thirty-six nuns you have are well treated, and I'm ordering the army to join the search for Miro and the others. You'll work with Colonel Sostelo."
There was a long, dangerous pause. "Which one of us will be in charge of the operation?" Acoca's eyes were icy.
The prime minister swallowed. "You will be, of course."
Lucia and the three sisters traveled through the early dawn, moving northeast into the mountains, heading away from avila and the convent. The nuns, used to moving in silence, made little noise. The only sounds were the rustle of their robes, the clicking of their rosaries, an occasional snapping twig, and their gasps for breath as they climbed higher and higher.
They reached a plateau of the Guadarrama mountains and walked along a rutted road bordered by stone walls. They passed fields with sheep and goats. By sunrise they had covered several miles and found themselves in a wooded area outside the small village of Villacastin.
I'll leave them here, Lucia decided. Their God can take care of them now. He sure took great care of me, she thought bitterly. Switzerland is farther away than ever. I have no money and no passport, and I'm dressed like an undertaker. By now those men know we've escaped. They'll keep looking until they find us. The sooner I get away by myself, the better.
But at that instant, something happened that made her change her plans.
Sister Teresa was moving through the trees when she stumbled and the package she had been so carefully guarding fell to the ground. It spilled out of its canvas wrapping and Lucia found herself staring at a large, exquisitely carved gold cross glowing in the rays of the rising sun.
That's real gold, Lucia thought. Someone up there is looking after me. That cross is manna. Sheer manna. It's my ticket to Switzerland
Lucia watched as Sister Teresa picked up the cross and carefully put it back in its wrapping. She smiled to herself. It was going to be easy to take it. These nuns would do anything she told them.
The town of avila was in an uproar. News of the attack on the convent had spread quickly, and Father Berrendo was elected to confront Colonel Acoca. The priest was in his seventies, with an outward frailty that belied his inner strength. He was a warm and understanding shepherd to his parishioners. But at the moment he was filled with a cold fury.
Colonel Acoca kept him waiting for an hour, then allowed the priest to be shown into his office.
Father Berrendo said without preamble, "You and your men attacked a convent without provocation. It was an act of madness."
"We were simply doing our duty," the colonel said curtly. "The convent was sheltering Jaime Miro and his band of murderers, so the sisters brought this on themselves. We're holding them for questioning."
"Did you find Jaime Miro in the convent?" the priest demanded angrily.