The Sands of Time. Sidney Sheldon

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       Chapter Four

      Colonel Ramón Acoca had the instincts of a hunter. He loved the chase, but it was the kill that gave him a deep visceral satisfaction. He had once confided to a friend, ‘I have an orgasm when I kill. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a deer or a rabbit or a man – there’s something about taking a life that makes you feel like God.’

      Acoca had been in military intelligence, and he had quickly achieved a reputation for being brilliant. He was fearless, ruthless and intelligent, and the combination brought him to the attention of one of General Franco’s aides.

      Acoca had joined Franco’s staff as a lieutenant, and in less than three years he had risen to the rank of colonel, an almost unheard-of feat. He was put in charge of the Falangists, the special group used to terrorize those who opposed Franco.

      It was during the war that Acoca had been sent for by a member of the OPUS MUNDO.

      ‘I want you to understand that we’re speaking to you with the permission of General Franco.’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘We’ve been watching you, Colonel. We are pleased with what we see.’

      ‘Thank you, sir.’

      ‘From time to time we have certain assignments that are – shall we say – very confidential. And very dangerous.’

      ‘I understand, sir.’

      ‘We have many enemies. People who don’t understand the importance of the work we’re doing.’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘Sometimes they interfere with us. We can’t permit that to happen.’

      ‘No, sir.’

      ‘I believe we could use a man like you, Colonel. I think we understand each other.’

      ‘Yes, sir. I’d be honoured to be of service.’

      ‘We would like you to remain in the army. That will be valuable to us. But from time to time, we will have you assigned to these special projects.’

      ‘Thank you, sir.’

      ‘You are never to speak of this.’

      ‘No, sir.’

      The man behind the desk had made Acoca nervous. There was something overpoweringly frightening about him.

      In time, Colonel Acoca was called upon to handle half a dozen assignments for the OPUS MUNDO. As he had been told, they were all dangerous. And very confidential.

      On one of the missions Acoca had met a lovely young girl from a fine family. Up to then, all of his women had been whores or camp followers, and Acoca had treated them with savage contempt. Some of the women had genuinely fallen in love with him, attracted by his strength. He reserved the worst treatment for them.

      But Susana Cerredilla belonged to a different world. Her father was a professor at Madrid University, and Susana’s mother was a lawyer. Susana was seventeen years old, and she had the body of a woman and the angelic face of a Madonna. Ramón Acoca had never met anyone like this woman-child. Her gentle vulnerability brought out in him a tenderness he had not known he was capable of. He fell madly in love with her, and for reasons which neither her parents nor Acoca understood, she fell in love with him.

      On their honeymoon, it was as though Acoca had never known another woman. He had known lust, but the combination of love and passion was something he had never previously experienced.

      Three months after they were married, Susana informed him that she was pregnant. Acoca was wildly excited. To add to their joy, he was assigned to the beautiful little village of Castilbanca, in the Basque country. It was in the autumn of 1936 when the fighting between the Republicans and Nationalists was at its fiercest.

      On a peaceful Sunday morning, Ramón Acoca and his bride were having coffee in the village plaza when the square suddenly filled with Basque demonstrators.

      ‘I want you to go home,’ Acoca said. ‘There’s going to be trouble.’

      ‘But you –?’

      ‘Please. I’ll be all right.’

      The demonstrators were beginning to get out of hand.

      With relief, Ramón Acoca watched his bride walk away from the crowd towards a convent at the far end of the square. And as she reached it, the door to the convent suddenly swung open and armed Basques who had been hiding inside, swarmed out with blazing guns. Acoca had watched helplessly as his wife went down in a hail of bullets, and it was on that day that he had sworn vengeance on the Basques. The Church had also been responsible.

      And now he was in Ávila, outside another convent. This time they’ll die.

      Inside the convent, in the dark before dawn, Sister Teresa held the Discipline tightly in СКАЧАТЬ