"Yeah. And thousands of people knew it, too!"

At two o'clock that afternoon, Warden Gomez de la Fuente and his two assistants, Juanito Molinas and Pedros Arrango,

appeared at the office of Prime Minister Martinez.

"I want to congratulate you," the prime minister said.

"The execution went perfectly."

The warden spoke. "Mr. Prime Minister, we're not here to receive your congratulations. We're here to resign."

Martinez stared at them, baffled. "I—I don't understand.

What—?"

"It's a matter of humanity, Your Excellency. We just watched a man die. Perhaps he deserved to die. But not like that. It—it was barbaric. I want no more part of this or anything like it, and my colleagues feel the same way."

"Perhaps you should give this more thought. Your pensions—"

"We have to live with our consciences." Warden de la

Fuente handed the prime minister three pieces of paper.

"Here are our resignations."

Late that night, the van crossed the French border and headed for the village of Bidache, near Bayonne. It pulled up before a neat farmhouse.

"This is the place. Let's get rid of the body before it starts to smell."

The door to the farmhouse was opened by a woman in her middle fifties. "You brought him?"

"Yes, ma'am. Where would you like it—er—him?"

"In the parlor, please."

"Yes, ma'am. I—I wouldn't wait too long to bury him. You know what I mean?"

She watched the two men carry in the body bag and set it on the floor.

"Thank you."

"De nada."

She stood there watching as they drove away.

Another woman walked in from the other room and ran toward the body bag. She hastily unzipped it.

Jaime Miró was lying there smiling up at them. "Do you know something? That garrote could be a real pain in the neck." ,

"White wine or red?" Megan asked.

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

At Barajas Airport in Madrid, former Warden Gomez de la

Fuente, his former assistants, Molinas and Arrango, Dr.

Anunción, and the giant who had worn the mask were in the departure lounge.

"I still think you're making a mistake not coming with me to Costa Rica," de la Fuente said. "With your five million dollars, you can buy the whole fucking country."

Molinas shook his head. "Arrango and I are going to

Switzerland. I'm tired of the sun. We're going to buy ourselves a few dozen snow bunnies."

"Me too," the giant said.

They turned to Miguel Anunción.

"What about you, Doctor?"

"I'm going to Bangladesh."

"What?"

"That's right. I'm going to use the money to open a hospital there. You know, I thought about it a long time before I accepted Megan Scott's offer. But I figured that if

I can save a lot of innocent lives by letting one terrorist live, it's a good trade-off. Besides, I must tell you, I liked Jaime Miró."

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

It had been a good season in the French countryside,

showering farmers with an abundance of crops. I wish that every year could be as wonderful as this, Rubio Arzano thought. It has been a good year in more ways than one.

First, his marriage, and then, a year ago, the birth of the twins. Whoever dreamed a man could be this happy?

It was starting to rain. Rubio turned the tractor around and headed for the barn. He thought about the twins. The boy was going to be big and strapping. But his sister! She was going to be a handful. She's going to give her man a lot of trouble, Rubio grinned to himself. She takes after her mother. He drove the tractor into the barn and headed for the house, feeling the cool rain against his face. He opened the door and stepped inside. "You're just in time." Lucia smiled.

"Dinner's ready."

The Reverend Mother Prioress Betina awakened with a premonition that something wonderful was about to happen.

Of course, she thought, enough good things have already happened.

The Cistercian convent had long since been reopened, under the protection of King Don Juan Carlos. Sister Graciela and the nuns who had been taken to Madrid were safely returned to the convent, where they were allowed to retreat once again into the blessed solitude and silence.

Shortly after breakfast, the Mother Prioress walked into her office and stopped, staring. On her desk, shining with a dazzling brightness, lay the gold cross.

It was accepted as a miracle.

AFTERWORD

Madrid has tried to buy peace by offering the Basques limited autonomy, allowing them to have their own flag, their own language, and a Basque police department. ETA replied by assassinating Constantin Ortin Gil, Madrid's military governor, and later Luis Carrero Blanco, the man chosen by

Franco to be his successor.

The violence keeps escalating.

In a three-year period, ETA terrorists have killed more than six hundred people. The slaughter continues and the retaliation by the police has been equally ruthless.

Not so many years ago, ETA had the sympathy of the two and a half million Basque people, but continued terrorism has eroded their support. In Bilbao, the very heart of the Basque homeland, one hundred thousand people took to the streets to demonstrate against ETA. The Spanish people feel it is time for peace, time to heal the wounds.

The OPUS MUNDO is more powerful than ever, but few people are willing to discuss it.

As for the Cistercian convents of the Strict Observance,

there are in existence today fifty-four convents worldwide,

seven of them in Spain.

Their timeless ritual of eternal silence and seclusion remains unchanged.