“And after we get to France?”
She was thinking of what would happen to Jaime, but when he replied, he said, “Don’t worry. There’s a Cistercian convent just a few hours across the border.” He hesitated. “If that’s what you still want.”
So he had understood her doubts. Is that what I want? They were coming to more than a border that divided two countries. This border would divide her old life from her future life…which would be…what? She had been desperate to return to a convent, but now she was filled with doubts. She had forgotten how exciting the world outside the walls could be. I’ve never felt so alive. Megan looked over at Jaime and admitted to herself: And Jaime Miró is a part of it
He caught her glance and looked into her eyes, and Megan thought: He knows it.
The expreso stopped at every hamlet and village along the track. The train was packed with farmers and their wives, merchants and salesmen, and at each stop passengers noisily embarked and disembarked.
The expreso made its way slowly through the mountains, fighting the steep grades.
When the train finally pulled into the station in San Sebastian, Jaime said to Megan, “The danger is over. This is our city. I’ve arranged for a car to be here for us.”
A large sedan was waiting in front of the station. A driver wearing a chapella, the big, wide-brimmed beret of the Basques, greeted Jaime with warm hugs, and the group got into the car.
Megan noticed that Jaime stayed close to Amparo, ready to grab her if she tried to make a move. What’s he going to do to her? Megan wondered.
“We were worried about you, Jaime,” the driver said. “According to the press, Colonel Acoca is conducting a big hunt for you.”
Jaime laughed. “Let him keep hunting, Gil. I am out of season.”
They drove down the Avenida Sancho el Savio, toward the beach. It was a cloudless summer day and the streets were crowded with strolling couples bent on pleasure. The harbor was awash with yachts and smaller craft. The distant mountains formed a picturesque backdrop for the city. Everything seemed so peaceful.
“What are the arrangements?” Jaime asked the driver.
“The Hotel Niza. Largo Cortez is waiting for you.”
“It will be good to see the old pirate again.”
The Niza was a medium-class hotel in the Plaza Juan de Olezabal, off the Calle de San Martin on the corner of a busy square. It was a white building with brown shutters and a big blue sign at the top. The rear of the hotel backed onto a beach.
When the car pulled up in front of the hotel, the group got out and followed Jaime into the lobby.
Largo Cortez, the hotel owner, ran up to greet them. He was a large man. He had only one arm as the result of a daring exploit, and he moved awkwardly, as though off-balance.
“Welcome,” he said, beaming. “I have been expecting you for a week now.”
Jaime shrugged. “We had a few delays, amigo.”
Largo Cortez grinned. “I read about them. The papers are full of nothing else.” He turned to look at Megan and Graciela. “Everyone is rooting for you, Sisters. I have your rooms all prepared.”
“We’ll be staying overnight,” Jaime told him. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning and cross into France. I want a good guide who knows all the passes—either Cabrera Infante or José Cebrián.”
“I will arrange it,” the hotel owner assured him. “There will be six of you?”
Jaime glanced at Amparo. “Five.”
Amparo looked away.
“I suggest that none of you registers,” Cortez said. “What the police don’t know won’t hurt them. Why don’t you let me take you to your rooms, where you can refresh yourselves? Then we’ll have a magnificent supper.”
“Amparo and I are going to the bar to have a drink,” Jaime said. “We’ll join you later.”
Largo Cortez nodded. “As you wish, Jaime.”
Megan was watching Jaime, puzzled. She wondered what he planned to do with Amparo. Is he going to cold-bloodedly—? She could not bear even to think about it.