The baby carriage had been abandoned at the corner. The quarreling couple had vanished.

Thirty minutes later, Megan walked through the front door of the house. Amparo was nervously pacing up and down.

"Where have you been?" Amparo demanded. "You shouldn't have left the house without telling me."

"I had to go out to take care of something."

"What?" Amparo asked suspiciously. "You don't know anyone here. If you—"

Jaime walked in, and the blood drained from Amparo's face.

But she quickly regained her composure.

"What—what happened?" she asked. "Didn't you go to the park?"

Jaime said quietly, "Why, Amparo?"

And she looked into his eyes and knew it was over.

"What made you change?"

She shook her head. "I haven't changed. You have, I've lost everyone I loved in this stupid war you're fighting. I'm sick of all the bloodshed. Can you stand hearing the truth about yourself, Jaime? You're as bad as the government you're fighting. Worse, because they're willing to make peace, and you're not. You think you're helping our country? You're destroying it. You rob banks and blow up cars and murder innocent people, and you think you're a hero. I loved you, and I believed in you once, but—" Her voice broke. "This bloodshed has to end."

Jaime walked up to her, and his eyes were ice. "I should kill you."

"No," Megan gasped. "Please! You can't."

Felix had come into the room and was listening to the conversation. "Jesus Christ! So she's the one. What do we do with the bitch?"

Jaime said, "We'll have to take her with us and keep an eye on her." He took Amparo by the shoulders and said softly,

"If you try one more trick, I promise you you'll die." He shoved her away and turned to Megan and Felix. "Let's get out of here before her friends arrive."

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

"You had Miró in your hands and you let him escape?"

"Colonel—with all due respect—my men—"

"Your men are assholes. You call yourselves policemen?

You're a disgrace to your uniforms."

The chief of police stood there, cringing under the withering scorn of Colonel Acoña. There was nothing else he could do, for the colonel was powerful enough to have his head. And Acoña was not yet through with him.

"I hold you personally responsible. I'll see that you're relieved from duty."

"Colonel—"

"Get out. You make me sick to my stomach."

Colonel Acoña was boiling with frustration. There had not been enough time for him to reach Vitoria and catch Jaime

Miró. He had had to entrust that to the local police. And they had bungled it. God alone knew where Miró had gone to now.

Colonel Acoña went to the map spread out on a table in front of him. They will be staying in Basque country, of course. That could be Burgos or Logroño or Bilbao or San

Sebastian. I'll concentrate on the northeast. They'll have to surface somewhere.

He recalled his conversation with the prime minister that morning.

"Your time is running out, Colonel. Have you read the morning papers? The world press is making us look like clowns. Miró and those nuns have made us a laughingstock."

"Prime Minister, you have my assurance—"

"King Juan Carlos has ordered me to set up an official inquiry board into the whole matter. I can't hold it off any longer."

"Delay the inquiry for just a few more days. I'll have

Miró and the nuns by then."

There was a pause. "Forty-eight hours."

It was not the prime minister whom Colonel Acoña was afraid of disappointing, nor was it the king. It was the OPUS

MUNDO. When he had been summoned to the paneled office of one of Spain's leading industrialists, his orders had been explicit: "Jaime Miró is creating an atmosphere harmful to our organization. Stop him. You will be well rewarded."

And Colonel Acoña knew what the unspoken part of the conversation was: Fail and you will be punished. Now his career was in jeopardy. And all because some stupid policemen had let Miró walk away under their noses. Jaime Miró might hide anywhere. But the nuns… A wave of excitement coursed through Colonel Acoña. The nuns! They were the key. Jaime

Miró might hide anywhere, but the sisters could find sanctuary only in another convent. And it would almost certainly be in a convent of the same order.

Colonel Acoña turned to study the map again. And there it was: Mendavia. There was a convent of the Cistercian order at

Mendavia. That's where they're headed, Acoña thought triumphantly. Well, so am I.

Only I'll be there first, waiting for them.

The journey for Ricardo and Graciela was coming to an end.

The last few days had been the happiest Ricardo had ever known. He was being hunted by the military and the police,

his capture meant certain death, and yet none of that seemed to matter. It was as though he and Graciela had carved out an island in time, a paradise where nothing could touch them.

They had turned their desperate journey into a wonderful adventure that they shared together.

They talked endlessly, exploring and explaining, and their words were tendrils that drew them even closer together. They spoke of the past, the present, and the future. Particularly the future.

"We'll be married in church," Ricardo said. "You'll be the most beautiful bride in the world…"

And Graciela could visualize the scene and was thrilled by it.

"And we'll live in the most beautiful house…"

And she thought: I've never had a house of my own, or a real room of my own.

There was the little casa she had shared with her mother and all the uncles, and then the convent cell, living with the sisters.

"And we'll have handsome sons and beautiful daughters…"

And I will give them all the things I never had. They will be so loved.

And Graciela's heart soared.

But there was one thing troubling her. Ricardo was a soldier fighting for a cause he passionately believed in.

Would he be content living in France, withdrawing from the battle? She knew she had to discuss this with him.

"Ricardo—how much longer do you think this revolution is going to go on?"

It's already gone on too long, Ricardo thought. The government had made peace overtures, but ETA had done worse than reject them. It had responded to the offers with a series of increased terrorist attacks. Ricardo had tried to discuss it with Jaime.

"They're willing to compromise, Jaime. Shouldn't we meet them halfway?"

"Their offer is a trick—they want to destroy us. They're forcing us to go on fighting."

And because Ricardo loved Jaime and believed in him, he continued to support him. But the doubts refused to die. And as the bloodshed increased, so did his uncertainty. And now

Graciela was asking, How much longer do you think this revolution is going to go on?

"I don't know," Ricardo told her. "I wish it were over.

But I will tell you this, my darling. Nothing will ever come between us—not even a war. There will never be words enough to tell you how much I love you." And they went on dreaming.

They traveled during the night, making their way through the fertile, green countryside, past El Burgo and Soria. At dawn, from the top of a hill, they saw Logroño in the far distance. To the left of the road was a stand of pine trees and beyond that a forest of electric-power lines. Graciela and Ricardo followed the winding road down to the outskirts of the bustling city.

"Where are we going to meet the others?" Graciela asked.

Ricardo pointed to a poster on a building they were passing. It read:

CIRQUE JAPON!

THE WORLD'S MOST

SENSATIONAL CIRCUS FRESH FROM JAPAN!

JULY 24TH

FOR ONE WEEK

AVENTOA CLUB DEPORTTVO.