The teller shook his head. “No, no, no.”
He began to pull money out of the cash drawer and stuff it into the attaché case. His hands were trembling.
When the attaché case was full, the teller said, “There you are, señor. I—I promise you I won’t raise any alarm.”
“That’s very wise of you,” Jaime said. “I’ll tell you why, amigo.” He turned around and pointed to a middle-aged woman standing near the end of the line carrying a package wrapped in brown paper. “Do you see that woman? She is one of us. There is a bomb in that package. If the alarm should sound, she will set off the bomb instantly.”
The teller turned even paler. “No, please!”
“You will wait until ten minutes after she leaves the bank before you make a move,” Jaime warned.
“On my children’s life,” the teller whispered.
“Buenas tardes.”
Jaime took the attaché case and moved toward the door. He felt the teller’s eyes riveted on him.
He stopped beside the woman with the package.
“I must compliment you,” Jaime said. “That is a most becoming dress you are wearing.”
She blushed. “Why thank you, señor—gracias.”
“De nada.”
Jaime turned to nod to the teller, then strolled out of the bank. It would be at least fifteen minutes before the woman finished her business and left. By that time, he and the others would be long gone.
As Jaime came out of the bank and walked toward the car, Megan almost fainted with relief.
Felix Carpio grinned. “The bastard got away with it.” He turned to Megan. “I beg your pardon, Sister.”
Megan had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. He did it, she thought. And all by himself. Wait until I tell the sisters what happened. And then she remembered. She could never tell this to anyone. When she went back to the convent, there would be only silence for the rest of her life. It gave her an odd feeling.
Jaime said to Felix, “Move over, amigo. I’ll drive.” He tossed the attaché case into the backseat.
“Everything went well?” Amparo asked.
Jaime laughed. “Couldn’t have gone better. I must remember to thank Colonel Acoca for his calling card.”
The car started down the street. At the first corner, Calle de Tudela, Jaime made a left turn. Suddenly, appearing out of nowhere, a policeman moved in front of the car and held out a hand signaling him to stop. Jaime stepped on the brake. Megan’s heart began to pound.
The policeman walked over to the car.
Jaime asked calmly, “What’s the problem, Officer?”
“The problem, señor, is that you are driving the wrong way down a one-way street. Unless you can prove you are legally blind, you are in trouble.” He pointed to the sign at the entrance. “The street is clearly marked. Motorists are expected to respect a sign like that. That is the reason it has been placed there.”
Jaime said apologetically, “A thousand pardons. My friends and I were in such a serious discussion that I did not see the sign.”
The policeman was leaning into the driver’s window. He was studying Jaime, a puzzled expression on his face.
“You will be so good as to let me see your registration, please.”
“Of course,” Jaime said.
He reached down for the revolver that was under his jacket. Felix was ready to spring into action. Megan held her breath.
Jaime pretended to be searching his pockets. “I know I have it here somewhere.”
At that moment from across the plaza came a loud scream and the policeman turned to look. A man on the street corner was beating a woman, hitting her about the head and shoulders with his fists.
“Help!” she cried. “Help me! He’s killing me!”
The policeman hesitated for only an instant. “Wait here,” he commanded.
He raced back down the street toward the man and woman.
Jaime put the car in gear and slammed down on the accelerator. The car shot down the one-way street, scattering traffic headed toward them, horns angrily blaring at them. When they reached the corner, Jaime made another turn toward the bridge that led out of town on the Avenida Sanchez de Arjona.