get out of here. There was no way out of the convent except through the front door.
She hurriedly rose and peered out into the corridor. The sight that met her eyes was astonishing. The corridor was filled not with policemen, but with men in civilian clothes, carrying weapons, smashing lamps and tables. There was confusion everywhere as they raced around.
The Reverend Mother Betina was standing in the centre of the chaos, praying silently, watching them desecrate her beloved convent. Sister Megan moved to her side, and Lucia joined them.
‘What the h – what’s happening? Who are they?’ Lucia asked. They were the first words she had spoken aloud since entering the convent.
The Reverend Mother put her right hand under her left armpit three times, the sign for hide.
Lucia stared at her unbelievingly. ‘You can talk now. Let’s get out of here, for Christ’s sake. And I mean for Christ’s sake.’
Patricio Arrieta, the Colonel’s key aide, hurried up to Acoca. ‘We’ve searched everywhere, Colonel. There’s no sign of Jaime Miró or his men.’
‘Search again,’ Acoca said stubbornly.
It was then that the Reverend Mother remembered the one treasure that the convent had. She hurried over to Sister Teresa and whispered, ‘I have a task for you. Remove the gold cross from the chapel and take it to the convent at Mendavia. You must get it away from here. Hurry!’
Sister Teresa was shaking so hard that her wimple fluttered in waves. She stared at the Reverend Mother, paralyzed. Sister Teresa had spent the last thirty years of her life in the convent. The thought of leaving it was beyond imagining. She raised her hand and signed, I can’t.
The Reverend Mother was frantic. ‘The cross must not fall into the hands of these men of Satan. Now do this for Jesus.’
A light came into Sister Teresa’s eyes. She stood very tall. She signed, for Jesus. She turned and hurried towards the chapel.
Sister Graciela approached the group, staring in wonder at the wild confusion around her.
The men were getting more and more violent, smashing everything in sight. Colonal Acoca watched them, approvingly.
Lucia turned to Megan and Graciela. ‘I don’t know about you two, but I’m getting out of here. Are you coming?’
They stared at her, too dazed to respond.
Sister Teresa was hurrying towards them, carrying something wrapped in a piece of canvas. Some of the men were herding more nuns into the refectory.
‘Come on,’ Lucia said.
Sisters Teresa, Megan and Graciela hesitated for a moment, then followed Lucia towards the front door. As they turned at the end of the long corridor, they could see that the huge door had been smashed in.
A man suddenly appeared in front of them. ‘Going somewhere, ladies? Get back. My friends have plans for you.’
Lucia said, ‘We have a gift for you.’ She picked up one of the heavy metal candlesticks that lined the hallway tables and smiled.
The man was looking at it, puzzled. ‘What can you do with that?’
‘This.’ Lucia swung the candelabra against his head, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.
The three nuns stared in horror.
‘Move!’ Lucia said.
A moment later Lucia, Megan, Graciela and Teresa were outside in the front courtyard, hurrying through the gate into the starry night.
Lucia stopped. ‘I’m leaving you. They’re going to be searching for you, so you’d better get away from here.’
She turned and started towards the mountains that rose in the distance, high above the convent. I’ll hide out up there until the search cools off and then I’ll head for Switzerland. Of all the rotten luck. Those bastards blew a perfect cover.
As Lucia made her way towards higher ground, she glanced down. From her vantage point she could see the three sisters. Incredibly, they were still standing in front of the convent gate, like three black-clad statues. For God’s sake, she thought. Get going before they catch you. Move!
They could not move. It was as though all their senses had been paralyzed for so long that they were unable to take in what was happening to them. The nuns stared down at their feet. They were so dazed they could not think. They had been cloistered for so long behind the gates of God, secluded from the world, that now that they were outside the protective gates, they were filled with feelings of confusion and panic. They had no idea where to go or what to do. Inside, their lives had been organized for them. They had been fed, clothed, told what to do and when to do it. They had lived by the Rule. Suddenly there was no Rule. What did God want from them? What was His plan? They stood huddled together, afraid to speak, afraid to look at one another.
Hesitantly, Sister Teresa pointed to the lights of Ávila in the distance and signed, that way. Uncertainly, they began to move towards the town.
Watching them from the hills above, Lucia thought: No, you idiots! That’s the first place they’ll look for you. Well, that’s your problem. I have my own problems. She stood there for a moment, watching them walk towards their doom, going to their slaughter. Shit.
Lucia scrambled down the hill, stumbling over the loose scree, and ran after them, her cumbersome habit slowing her down. ‘Wait a minute,’ she called. ‘Stop!’
The sisters stopped and turned.
Lucia hurried up to them, out of breath. ‘You’re going the wrong way. The first place they’ll search for you is in town. You’ve got to hide out somewhere.’
The three sisters stared at her in silence.
Lucia said impatiently, ‘The mountains. Get up to the mountains. Follow me.’
She turned and started back towards the mountains. The others watched, and after a moment, they began to trail after her, one by one.
From time to time Lucia looked back to make sure they were following. Why can’t I mind my own business? she thought. They’re not my responsibility. It’s more dangerous if we’re all together. She kept climbing, making sure they stayed in sight.
The others were having a difficult time of it, and every time they slowed down, Lucia stopped to let them catch up with her. I’ll get rid of them in the morning.
‘Let’s move faster,’ Lucia called.
At the Abbey, the raid had come to an end. The dazed nuns, their habits wrinkled and bloodstained, were being rounded up and put into unmarked, closed trucks.
‘Take them back to my headquarters in Madrid,’ Colonel Acoca ordered. ‘Keep them in isolation.’
‘What charge –?’
‘Harbouring terrorists.’
‘Yes, Colonel,’ Patricio Arrieta said. He hesitated. ‘Four of the nuns are missing.’
Colonel Acoca’s eyes turned cold. ‘Find them.’
Colonel Acoca flew back to Madrid to report to the Prime Minister. ‘Jaime Miró escaped before we reached the convent.’
Prime Minister Martinez nodded. ‘Yes, I heard.’ And he wondered whether Jaime Miró had ever been in the convent to begin with. There was no doubt about it. Colonel Acoca was getting dangerously out of control. There had been angry protests about the brutal attack on the convent. The Prime Minister chose his words carefully, ‘The newspapers have been hounding me about what happened.’
‘The newspapers are making a hero of this terrorist,’ Acoca said, stone faced. ‘We must not let them pressure us.’
‘He’s