As the group approached the entrance, Jaime said to the two women, “Wait here.” He nodded to Felix Carpio and the two men disappeared.
“Where are they going?” Megan asked.
Amparo Jirón gave her a contemptuous look. “Maybe they went looking for your God.”
“I hope they find Him,” Megan said evenly.
Ten minutes later the men were back.
“All clear,” Jaime told Amparo. “You and the sister will share a room. Felix will stay with me.” He handed her a key.
Amparo said petulantly, “Querido, I want to stay with you, not—”
“Do as I say. Keep an eye on her.”
Amparo turned to Megan. “Bueno. Come along, Sister.”
Megan followed Amparo into the parador and up the stairs.
The room was one of a dozen set in a row along the gray, bare upstairs corridor. Amparo unlocked the door and the two women entered. The room was small and drab and sparsely furnished, with wooden floors, stucco walls, a bed, a small cot, a battered dressing table, and two chairs.
Megan looked around the room and exclaimed, “It’s lovely.”
Amparo Jirón swung around in anger, thinking that Megan was being sarcastic. “Who the hell are you to complain about—?”
“It’s so large,” Megan went on.
Amparo looked at her a moment, then laughed. Of course it would seem large compared to the cells that the sisters lived in.
Amparo started to get undressed.
Megan could not help staring at her. It was the first time she had really looked at Amparo Jirón in the daylight. The woman was beautiful, in an earthy way. She had red hair, white skin, and was fullbreasted, with a small waist and hips that swayed as she moved.
Amparo saw her watching. “Sister—would you tell me something? Why would anyone join a convent?”
It was a simple question to answer. “What could be more wonderful than to devote oneself to the glory of God?”
“Offhand, I could think of a thousand things.” Amparo walked over to the bed and sat down. “You can sleep on the cot. From what I’ve heard about convents, your God doesn’t want you to be too comfortable.”
Megan smiled. “It doesn’t matter. I’m comfortable inside.”
In their room across the corridor, Jaime Miró was stretching out on the bed. Felix Carpio was trying to get settled on the small cot. Both men were fully dressed. Jaime’s gun was under his pillow. Felix’s gun was on the small, battered table next to him.
“What do you think makes them do it?” Felix wondered aloud. “Do what, amigo?”
“Lock themselves up in a convent all their lives like prisoners.”
Jaime Miró shrugged. “Ask the sister. I wish to hell we were traveling alone. I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Jaime, God will thank us for this good deed.”
“Do you really believe that? Don’t make me laugh.”
Felix did not pursue the subject. It was not tactful to discuss the Catholic Church with Jaime. The two men were silent, each preoccupied with his own thoughts.
Felix Carpio was thinking: God put the sisters in our hands. We must get them to a convent safely.
Jaime was thinking about Amparo. He wanted her badly now. That damned nun. He started to pull up the covers when he realized there was something he still had to do.
In the small, dark lobby downstairs, the room clerk sat quietly, waiting until he was sure that the new guests were asleep. His heart was pounding as he picked up the telephone and dialed a number.
A lazy voice answered, “Police headquarters.”
The clerk whispered into the telephone to his nephew, “Florian, I have Jaime Miró and three of his people here. How would you like the honor of capturing them?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ninety miles to the east, in a wooded area along the way to Peñafiel, Lucia Carmine was asleep.
Rubio Arzano sat watching her, reluctant to awaken her. She sleeps like an angel he thought.
But it was almost dawn, time to be moving on.
Rubio leaned over and whispered gently in her ear, “Sister Lucia…”
Lucia opened her eyes.
“It is time for us to go.”
She yawned and stretched lazily. The blouse she was wearing had become unbuttoned and part of her breast was showing. Rubio hastily looked away.