The Sands of Time (17 page)

Milo felt the room begin to sway.

Mr. Gray looked up. “Are you all right?”

Milo was finding it difficult to breathe.
Good God, what have we done? We’ve taken away her birthright, and it wasn’t necessary at all Now we can give it back to her.

He turned to say something to Ellen, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

“There has to be
something
we can do, Ellen. We can’t just leave Patricia there. Not now.”

They were in their Fifth Avenue apartment getting dressed to go to a charity dinner.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Ellen told him. “Unless you’d like to bring her back here and try to explain why we said she was burned to death in the airplane crash.”

He had no answer to that. After thinking a moment he said, “All right, then. We’ll send her money every month so she—”

“Don’t be a fool, Milo.” Her voice was curt. “Send her money? And have the police start checking on why someone is sending her money and trace it back to us? No. If your conscience bothers you, we’ll have the company give money to charity. Forget about the child, Milo. She’s dead. Remember?”

Remember…remember…remember…

The words echoed in Ellen Scott’s mind as she looked out at the audience in the Waldorf-Astoria ballroom and finished her speech. There was another standing ovation.

You’re standing up for a dead woman,
she thought.

That night the ghosts came back. She thought she had exorcised them long ago. In the beginning, after the memorial services for her brother- and sister-in-law and Patricia, the night visitors had come frequently. Pale mists hovered over her bed and voices whispered in her ear. She would awaken, her pulse racing, but there would be nothing to see. She had told none of this to Milo. He was weak, and it might have terrified him into doing something foolish, something that would jeopardize the company. If the truth got out, the scandal would destroy Scott Industries, and Ellen was determined that that must never happen. And so she suffered the ghosts in silence, until finally they went away and left her in peace.

Now, the night of the banquet, they returned. She awakened and sat up in her bed and looked around. The room was empty and quiet, but she knew they had been there. What were they trying to tell her? Did they know she would be joining them soon?

Ellen rose and walked into the spacious, antique-filled drawing room of the beautiful townhouse she had bought after Milo passed away. She looked around the lovely room and thought:
Poor Milo.
He had not had time to enjoy any of the benefits of his brother’s death. He had died of a heart attack a year after the plane crash, and Ellen Scott had taken over the company, running it with an efficiency and expertise that had catapulted Scott Industries into greater international prominence.

The company belongs to the Scott family,
she thought.
I’m not going to turn it over to faceless strangers.

And that led her thoughts to Byron and Susan’s daughter. The rightful heiress to the throne that had been stolen from her. Was there fear in her thoughts? Was it a wish to make an atonement before her own death?

Ellen Scott sat in her drawing room all night, staring into nothingness, thinking and planning. How long ago had it been? Twenty-eight years. Patricia would be a grown woman now, assuming that she was still alive. What had her life become? Had she married a farmer or a merchant in the village? Did she have children? Was she still living in Ávila, or had she gone away to some other place?

I must find her,
Ellen thought.
And quickly. If Patricia is still alive, I’ve got to see her, talk to her. I have to finally set the account straight Money can turn lies into truth. I’ll find a way to solve the situation without ever letting her know what really happened

The following morning, Ellen sent for Alan Tucker, chief of security for Scott Industries. He was a former detective in his forties, a thin, balding, sallow-looking man, hard-working and brilliant.

“I want you to go on a mission for me.”

“Yes, Mrs. Scott.”

She studied him a moment, wondering how much she could tell him.
I can tell him nothing
she decided.
As long as I am alive, I refuse to put myself or the company in jeopardy. Let him find Patricia first, and then I’ll decide how to handle her.

She leaned forward. “Twenty-eight years ago, an orphan was left on the doorstep of a farmhouse outside Ávila, Spain. I want you to find out where she is today and bring her back here to me as quickly as possible.”

Alan Tucker’s face remained impassive. Mrs. Scott did not like her employees to show emotion.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll leave tomorrow.”

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

C
olonel Ramón Acoca was in an expansive mood. All the pieces were finally falling into place.

An orderly came into his office. “Colonel Sostelo has arrived.”

“Show him in.”

I won’t be needing him anymore,
Acoca thought.
He can go back to his tin soldiers.

Colonel Fal Sostelo walked in. “Colonel.”

“Colonel.”

It’s ironic,
Sostelo thought.
We hold the same rank, but the scarred giant has the power to break me. Because he’s connected to the OPUS MUNDO.

It was an indignity for Sostelo to have to answer Acoca’s summons as though he were some unimportant subordinate. But he managed to show none of his feelings. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” Acoca waved him to a chair. “Sit down. I have some news for you. Jaime Miró has the nuns.”

“What?”

“Yes. They’re traveling with Miró and his men. He’s split them up into three groups.”

“How—how do you know that?”

Ramón Acoca leaned back in his chair. “Do you play chess?”

“No.”

“Pity. It’s a very educational game. In order to be a good player, it’s necessary to get into the mind of your opponent. Jaime Miró and I play chess with each other.”

Fal Sostelo was staring at him. “I don’t understand how—”

“Not literally, Colonel. We don’t use a chess board. We use our minds. I probably understand Jaime Miró better than anyone in the world. I know how his mind works. I knew that he would try to blow up the dam at Puente la Reina. We captured two of his lieutenants there, and it was only by luck that Miró himself got away. I knew that he would try to rescue them, and Miró knew that I knew it.” Acoca shrugged. “I didn’t anticipate that he would use the bulls to effect their escape.” There was a note of admiration in his voice.

“You sound as though you—”

“Admire him? I admire his mind. I despise the man.”

“Do you know where Miró is headed?”

“He is traveling north. I will catch him within the next three days.”

Colonel Sostelo was gaping at him, stunned.

“It will finally be checkmate.”

It was true that Colonel Acoca understood Jaime Miró, and the way his mind worked, but it was not enough for him. The colonel wanted an edge, to ensure victory, and he had found it.

“How—?”

“One of Miró’s terrorists,” Colonel Acoca said, “is an informant.”

Rubio, Tomás, and the two sisters avoided the large cities and took side roads, passing old stone villages with grazing sheep and goats, and shepherds listening to music and soccer games on their transistor radios. It was a colorful juxtaposition of the past and the present, but Lucia had other things on her mind.

She stayed close to Sister Teresa, waiting for the first opportunity to get the cross and leave. The two men were always at their side. Rubio Arzano was the more considerate of the two, a tall, pleasant-looking, cheerful man.
A simple-minded peasant,
Lucia decided. Tomás Sanjuro was slight and balding.
He looks more like a shoe clerk than a terrorist It will be easy to outwit them both.

They walked across the plains north of Ávila by night, cooled by the winds blowing down from the Guadarrama mountains. There was a haunting emptiness about the plains by moonlight. They passed
granjas
of wheat, olive trees, grapevines, and maize, and they foraged for potatoes and lettuce, fruit from the trees, and eggs and chickens from the hen coops.

“The whole countryside of Spain is a huge market,” said Rubio Arzano.

Tomás Sanjuro grinned. “And it’s all for free.”

Sister Teresa was totally oblivious to her surroundings. Her only thought was to reach the convent at Mendavia. The cross was getting heavy, but she was determined not to let it out of her hands.
Soon,
she thought.
We’ll be there soon. We’re fleeing from Gethsemane and our enemies to the new mansion He has prepared for us.

Lucia said, “What?”

Sister Teresa was unaware that she had spoken aloud.

“I—nothing,” she mumbled.

Lucia took a closer look at her. The older woman seemed distracted and vaguely disoriented, unaware of what was happening around her. She nodded toward the canvas package that Sister Teresa carried. “That must be heavy,” Lucia said sympathetically. “Wouldn’t you like me to carry it for a while?”

Sister Teresa clutched it to her body more tightly. “Jesus carried a heavier burden. I can carry this for Him. Does it not say in Luke: ‘If any man would come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me’? I’ll carry it,” she said stubbornly.

There was something odd in her tone.

“Are you all right, Sister?”

“Of course.”

Sister Teresa was far from all right. She had not been able to sleep. She felt dizzy and feverish. Her mind was playing tricks again.
I mustn’t let myself become ill,
she thought.
Sister Betina will scold me.
But Sister Betina was not there. It was so confusing. And who were these men?
I don’t trust them. What do they want with me?

Rubio Arzano had attempted to strike up a conversation with Sister Teresa, trying to make her feel at ease.

“It must seem strange to you, being out in the world again, Sister. How long were you in the convent?”

Why did he want to know?
“Thirty years.”

“My, that’s a long time. Where are you from?”

It was painful for her even to say the word. “Èze.”

His face brightened. “Èze? I spent a summer there once on a holiday. It’s a lovely town. I know it well. I remember…”

I know it well. How well? Does he know Raoul? Did Raoul send him here?
And the truth hit her like a bolt of lightning. These strangers had been sent to bring her back to Èze, to Raoul Giradot. They were kidnapping her. God was punishing her for deserting Monique’s baby. She was certain now that the baby she had seen in the village square in Villacastín was her sister’s. “But it couldn’t have been, could it? That was thirty years ago,” Teresa muttered to herself. “They’re lying to me.”

Rubio Arzano was watching her, listening to her mumbling.

“Is something wrong, Sister?”

Sister Teresa shrank away from him. “No.”

She was onto them now. She was not going to let them take her back to Raoul and the baby. She had to get to the convent at Mendavia and hand over the gold crucifix, and then God would forgive her for the terrible sin she had committed.
I must be clever. I must not let them know I am onto their secret.

She looked up at Rubio. “I am fine,” she said.

Moving on across the dry, sunbaked plains, they came to a small village where peasant women dressed in black were doing their wash at a spring covered by a roof resting on four ancient beams. The water poured into a long wooden trough and out again, so that it was always fresh, and the women scrubbed their wash on stone slabs and rinsed it clean in the running water.

It’s such a peaceful scene,
Rubio thought. It reminded him of the farm he had left behind.
It’s what Spain used to be like. No bombs, no killing. Will we ever know peace again?

“Buenos días.”

“Buenos días.”

“I wonder if we might have a drink? Traveling is thirsty work.”

“Certainly. Please help yourselves.”

The water was cold and refreshing.

“Gracias. Adiós.”

“Adiós.”

Rubio hated to leave.

The two women and their escorts moved on, past cork and olive trees, the summer air filled with the smells of ripe grapes and oranges. They went by orchards of apple, cherry, and plum trees, and farms noisy with the sounds of chickens, pigs, and goats.

Rubio and Tomás walked ahead, talking quietly together.

They are talking about me. They think I do not know their plan.
Sister Teresa moved nearer to them so she could hear what they were saying.

“…a reward of five hundred thousand pesetas on our heads. Of course Colonel Acoca would pay more for Jaime, but he doesn’t want his head. He wants his
cojones.
”

The men laughed.

As Sister Teresa listened to them talk, her conviction grew stronger.
These men are killers doing Satan’s work, messengers of the devil sent to damn me to everlasting hell But God is stronger than they are. He will not let them take me back home.

Raoul Giradot was at her side, smiling the smile that she knew so well.

The voice!

I beg your pardon?

I heard you sing yesterday. You are magnificent.

May I help you?

I would like three yards of muslin, please.

Certainly. This way…My aunt owns this shop and she needed help, so I thought I’d work for her for a while.

I’m sure you could have any man you want, Teresa, but I hope you will choose me.

He looked so handsome.

I have never known anyone like you, my darling.

Raoul took her in his arms and was kissing her.

You’re going to make a beautiful bride

But now I’m Christ’s bride. I can’t return to Raoul

Lucia was watching Sister Teresa closely. She was talking to herself, but Lucia could not make out the words.

She’s cracking up,
Lucia thought.
She’s not going to make it I’ve got to get hold of that cross soon.

It was dusk when they saw the town of Olmedo in the distance.

Rubio stopped. “There will be soldiers there. Let’s move up to the hills and skirt the city.”

They moved off the road and left the plains, heading for the hills above Olmedo. The sun was skipping across the mountaintops and the sky was beginning to darken.

“We’ve only a few more miles to go,” Rubio Arzano said reassuringly. “Then we can rest.”

They had reached the top of a high ridge when Tomás Sanjuro suddenly held up a hand. “Hold it,” he whispered.

Rubio walked over to his side and together they moved to the edge of the ridge and looked down into the valley below. There was an encampment of soldiers there.

“¡Mierda!”
Rubio whispered. “There must be a whole platoon. We’ll stay up here for the rest of the night. They’ll probably pull out in the morning and we can move on.” He turned to Lucia and Sister Teresa, trying not to show how worried he was. “We’ll spend the night here, Sisters. We must be very quiet. There are soldiers down there and we don’t want them to find us.”

It was the best news Lucia could have heard.
It’s perfect,
she thought.
I’ll disappear with the cross during the night They won’t dare try to follow me because of the soldiers.

To Sister Teresa, the news had a different meaning. She had heard the men say that someone named Colonel Acoca was searching for them.
They called Colonel Acoca the enemy. But these men are the enemy, so Colonel Acoca must be my friend. Thank You, dear God, for sending me Colonel Acoca.

The tall man called Rubio was speaking to her.

“Do you understand, Sister? We must all be very, very quiet.”

“Yes, I understand.”
I understand more than you think.
They had no idea that God permitted her to see into their evil hearts.

Tomás Sanjuro said kindly, “I know how difficult this must be for both of you, but don’t worry. We’ll see that you get safely to the convent.”

To Èze, he means. Oh, but he is cunning. He speaks the honeyed words of the devil But God is within me, and He is guiding me.
She knew what she must do. But she had to be careful.

The two men arranged the sleeping bags for the women, next to each other.

“Both of you get some sleep now.”

The women got into the unfamiliar sleeping bags. The night was incredibly clear and the sky was spangled with glimmering stars. Lucia looked up at them and thought happily:
In just a few hours now, I’ll be on my way to freedom. As soon as they’re all asleep.
She yawned. She had not realized how tired she was. The long, hard journey and the emotional strain had taken their toll. Her eyes felt heavy.
I’ll just rest for a little while,
Lucia thought.

She slept.

Sister Teresa lay near Lucia, wide awake, fighting the demons that were trying to possess her, to send her soul to hell.
I must be strong. The Lord is testing me. I have been exiled so that I can find my way back to Him. And these men are trying to stop me I must not let them.

At four o’clock in the morning, Sister Teresa silently sat up and looked around. Tomás Sanjuro was asleep only a few feet from her. The tall, dark man called Rubio was keeping watch at the edge of the clearing, his back to her. She could see his silhouette against the trees.

Very quietly, Sister Teresa rose. She hesitated, thinking about the cross.
Should I carry it with me? But I’ll be coming back here very soon. I must find a place where it will be safe until I return.
She looked over to where Sister Lucia lay sleeping.
Yes. It will be safe with my sister in God,
Sister Teresa decided.

Silently she moved over to Lucia’s sleeping bag and gently slipped the wrapped cross inside. Lucia did not stir. Sister Teresa turned and moved into the woods, out of Rubio Arzano’s sight, and carefully began to make her way downhill toward the soldiers’ camp. The hill was steep and slippery with dew, but God gave her wings and she sped downhill without stumbling or falling, hurrying toward her salvation.

In the darkness ahead, the figure of a man suddenly materialized.

A voice called out, “Who goes there?”

“Sister Teresa.”

She approached the sentry, who was wearing an army uniform and pointing a rifle at her.