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 Córdobes and Ordónez. 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 fiancйe 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 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?"