Sidney Sheldon - The sands of time

Mercedes Angeles beamed. "That is very generous of you, señor. I will go get the file."

I've done it, he thought jubilantly. Jesus Christ, I've done it! She stole Scott Industries for herself. If it hadn't been for me, she would have gotten away with it.

When he confronted Ellen Scott with his evidence, there was no way she could deny it. The plane crash happened on

October 1. Megan was in the hospital for ten days. So she would have been brought into the orphanage around October 11.

Mercedes Angeles returned to the office holding a file in her hands. "I found it," she said proudly.

It was all Alan Tucker could do to keep from grabbing it out of her hands. "May I look at it?" he asked politely.

"Certainly. You have been so generous." She frowned. "I hope you will not mention this to anyone. I should not be doing this at all."

"It will be our secret, señora."

She handed him the file.

He took a deep breath and opened it. At the top it said:

"Megan. Baby girl. Parents unknown." And then the date. But there was some mistake.

"It says here that Megan was brought in here on June 14,

1948."

"Sн, señor."

"That's impossible!" He was almost screaming. The plane crash happened on October 1, four months later.

There was a puzzled expression on her face. "Impossible, señor! I do not understand."

"Who—who keeps these records?"

"I do. When a child is left here, I put down the date and whatever information is given to me."

His dream was collapsing. "Couldn't you have made a mistake? About the date, I mean—couldn't it have been October tenth or eleventh?"

"Señor," she said indignantly. "I know the difference between June fourteenth and October eleventh."

It was over. He had built a dream on too flimsy a foundation. So Patricia Scott had really died in the plane crash. It was a coincidence that Ellen Scott was searching for a girl who had been born around the same time.

Alan Tucker rose heavily and said, "Thank you, señora."

"De nada, señor."

She watched him leave. He was such a nice man. And so generous. His five hundred dollars would buy many things for the orphanage. So would the hundred-thousand-dollar check sent by the kind lady who had telephoned from New York.

October eleventh was certainly a lucky day for our orphanage.

Thank You, Lord.

Alan Tucker was reporting.

"Still no hard news, Mrs. Scott. They're rumored to be heading north. As far as I know, the girl is safe."

The tone of his voice has completely changed, Ellen Scott thought. The threat is gone. So he's visited the orphanage.

He's back to being an employee. Well, after he finds

Patricia, that will change too.

"Report in tomorrow."

"Yes, Mrs. Scott."

"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 Jirón stood by as Jaime Miró 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 Miró 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 Miró wondered.

Amparo Jirón 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.

"Tomás 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 Miró 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.