“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 attaché 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 attaché 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.”