Sidney Sheldon - The sands of time

Fal Sostelo was staring at him. "I don't understand how—"

"Not literally, Colonel. We don't use a chess board. We use our minds. I probably understand Jaime Miró better than anyone in the world. I know how his mind works. I knew that he would try to blow up the dam at Puente la Reina. We captured three of his lieutenants there, and it was only by luck that Miró himself got away. I knew that he would try to rescue them, and Miro knew that I knew it." Acoña shrugged.

"I didn't anticipate that he would use the bulls to effect their escape." There was a note of admiration in his voice.

"You sound as though you—"

"Admire him? I admire his mind. I despise the man."

"Do you know where Miró is headed?"

"He is traveling north. I will catch him within the next three days."

Colonel Sostelo was gaping at him, stunned.

"It will finally be checkmate."

It was true that Colonel Acoña understood Jaime Miró, and the way his mind worked, but it was not enough for him. The colonel wanted an edge, to ensure victory, and he had found it.

"How—?"

"One of Miró's terrorists," Colonel Acoña said, "is an informant."

Rubio, Tomás, and the two sisters avoided the large cities and took side roads, passing old stone villages with grazing sheep and goats, and shepherds listening to music and soccer games on their transistor radios. It was a colorful juxtaposition of the past and the present, but Lucia had other things on her mind.

She stayed close to Sister Teresa, waiting for the first opportunity to get the cross and leave. The two men were always at their side. Rubio Arzano was the more considerate of the two, a tall, pleasant-looking, cheerful man. A simple-minded peasant, Lucia decided. Tomás Sanjuro was slight and balding. He looks more like a shoe clerk than a terrorist. It will be easy to outwit them both.

They walked across the plains north of Ávila by night,

cooled by the winds blowing down from the Guadarrama mountains. There was a haunting emptiness about the plains by moonlight. They passed granjas of wheat, olive trees,

grapevines, and maize, and they foraged for potatoes and lettuce, fruit from the trees, and eggs and chickens from the hen coops.

"The whole countryside of Spain is a huge market," said

Rubio Arzano.

Tomás Sanjuro grinned. "And it's all for free."

Sister Teresa was totally oblivious to her surroundings.

Her only thought was to reach the convent at Mendavia. The cross was getting heavy, but she was determined not to let it out of her hands. Soon, she thought. We'll be there soon.

We're fleeing from Gethsemane and our enemies to the new mansion He has prepared for us.

Lucia said, "What?"

Sister Teresa was unaware that she had spoken aloud.

"I—nothing," she mumbled.

Lucia took a closer look at her. The older woman seemed distracted and vaguely disoriented, unaware of what was happening around her. She nodded toward the canvas package that Sister Teresa carried. "That must be heavy," Lucia said sympathetically. "Wouldn't you like me to carry it for a while?"

Sister Teresa clutched it to her body more tightly."Jesus carried a heavier burden. I can carry this for Him. Does it not say in Luke: 'If any man would come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me'?

I'll carry it," she said stubbornly.

There was something odd in her tone.

"Are you all right, Sister?"

"Of course."

Sister Teresa was far from all right. She had not been able to sleep. She felt dizzy and feverish. Her mind was playing tricks again. I mustn't let myself become ill, she thought. Sister Betina will scold me. But Sister Betina was not there. It was so confusing. And who were these men? I don't trust them. What do they want with me?

Rubio Arzano had attempted to strike up a conversation with Sister Teresa, trying to make her feel at ease.

"It must seem strange to you, being out in the world again, Sister. How long were you in the convent?" Why did he want to know? "Thirty years."

"My, that's a long time. Where are you from?" It was painful for her even to say the word. "Иze." His face brightened. "Иze? I spent a summer there once on a holiday.

It's a lovely town. I know it well. I remember…"

I know it well. How well? Does he know Raoul? Did Raoul send him here? And the truth hit her like a bolt of lightning. These strangers had been sent to bring her back to

Иze, to Raoul Giradot. They were kidnapping her. God was punishing her for deserting Monique's baby. She was certain now that the baby she had seen in the village square in

Villacastin was her sister's. "But it couldn't have been,

could it? That was thirty years ago," Teresa muttered to herself. "They're lying to me."

Rubio Arzano was watching her, listening to her mumbling.

"Is something wrong, Sister?" Sister Teresa shrank away from him. "No." She was onto them now. She was not going to let them take her back to Raoul and the baby. She had to get to the convent at Mendavia and hand over the gold crucifix,

and then God would forgive her for the terrible sin she had committed. I must be clever. I must not let them know I am onto their secret.

She looked up at Rubio. "I am fine," she said. Moving on across the dry, sunbaked plains, they came to a small village where peasant women dressed in black were doing their wash at a spring covered by a roof resting on four ancient beams. The water poured into a long wooden trough and out again, so that it was always fresh, and the women scrubbed their wash on stone slabs and rinsed it clean in the running water.

It's such a peaceful scene, Rubio thought. It reminded him of the farm he had left behind. It's what Spain used to be like. No bombs, no killing. Will we ever know peace again?

"Buenos dias."

"Buenos dias."

"I wonder if we might have a drink? Traveling is thirsty work."

"Certainly. Please help yourselves."

The water was cold and refreshing.

"Gracias. Adios."

"Adios."

Rubio hated to leave.

The two women and their escorts moved on, past cork and olive trees, the summer air filled with the smells of ripe grapes and oranges. They went by orchards of apple, cherry,

and plum trees, and farms noisy with the sounds of chickens,

pigs, and goats.

Rubio and Tomás walked ahead, talking quietly together.

They are talking about me. They think I do not know their plan. Sister Teresa moved nearer to them so she could hear what they were saying.

"…a reward of five hundred thousand pesetas on our heads.

Of course Colonel Acoña would pay more for Jaime, but he doesn't want his head. He wants his cojones."

The men laughed.

As Sister Teresa listened to them talk, her conviction grew stronger. These men are killers doing Satan's work,

messengers of the devil sent to damn me to everlasting hell.

But God is stronger than they are. He will not let them take me back home.

Raoul Giradot was at her side, smiling the smile that she knew so well.

The voice!

I beg your pardon?

I heard you sing yesterday. You are magnificent.

May I help you?

I would like three yards of muslin, please.

Certainly. This way… My aunt owns this shop and she needed help, so I thought I'd work for her for a while.

I'm sure you could have any man you want, Teresa, but I hope you will choose me.

He looked so handsome.

I have never known anyone like you, my darling.

Raoul took her in his arms and was kissing her.

You're going to make a beautiful bride.

But now I'm Christ's bride. I can't return to Raoul.

Lucia was watching Sister Teresa closely. She was talking to herself, but Lucia could not make out the words.

She's cracking up, Lucia thought. She's not going to make it. I've got to get hold of that cross soon.