Sidney Sheldon - The sands of time

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This is a work of fiction. And yet…
The romantic land of flamenco and Don Quixote and exotic-looking señoritas with tortoises hell combs in their hair is also the land of Torquemada, the Spanish Inquisition, and one of the bloodiest civil wars in history. More than half a million people lost their lives in the battles for power between the Republicans and the rebel Nationalists in Spain.
In 1936, between February and June, 269 political murders were committed, and the Nationalists executed Republicans at the rate of a thousand a month, with no mourning permitted. One hundred sixty churches were burned to the ground, and nuns were removed forcibly from convents, "as though," wrote Due de Saint-Simon of an earlier conflict between the Spanish government and the Church, "they were whores in a bawdy house." Newspaper offices were sacked and strikes and riots were endemic throughout the land. The Civil War ended in a victory for the Nationalists under Franco, and following his death, Spain became a monarchy.
The Civil War, which lasted from 1936 to 1939, may be officially over, but the two Spains that fought it have never been reconciled. Today another war continues to rage in Spain, the guerrilla war fought by the Basques to regain the autonomy they had won under the Republic and lost under the Franco regime. The war is being fought with bombs, bank robberies to finance the bombs, assassinations, and riots. When a member of ETA, a Basque guerrilla underground group, died in a Madrid hospital after being tortured by the police, the nationwide riots that followed led to the resignation of the director general of Spain's police force, five security chiefs, and two hundred senior police officers. In 1986, in Barcelona, the Basques publicly burned the
Spanish flag, and in Pamplona thousands fled in fear, when Basque Nationalists clashed with police in a series of mutinies that eventually spread across Spain and threatened the stability of the government. The paramilitary police retaliated by going on a rampage, firing at random at homes and shops of the Basques. The terrorism that goes on is more violent than ever.
This is a work of fiction. And yet…

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Jaime then nodded to Felix, and Felix rose and followed

Amparo.

"What is happening?" Megan asked. "Is something wrong?"

"We're leaving for Logroño." 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 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 attachй 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 attachй 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.

"Buenos tardes."

Jaime took the attachй 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 attachй case into the backseat.

"Everything went well?" Amparo asked.

Jaime laughed. "Couldn't have gone better. I must remember to thank Colonel Acoña for his calling card."

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