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Luis was lying facedown across him, like an X. McCaskey bent his head and looked at Luis. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. His normally dark face was pale. The bullet had struck the right side of his neck about two inches below the ear. Blood was dripping onto the stone blocks. It streamed toward the pool of the captain's blood and they mingled thickly.

McCaskey stood slowly and straddled the men. He put his arms under Luis and lifted him up. As he rose he heard a commotion at the gate. McCaskey and the Spanish soldier both looked over.

A sergeant at the gatepost had his hand around a priest's arm. The priest was speaking quietly and pointing toward the wounded men. The sergeant was yelling. After a moment, the priest simply wrested his arm away and stormed forward. The sergeant continued to yell at him. He shouted for the priest to stop.

The priest shouted back that he would not. He pointed toward the palace, where there were still the sounds of gunfire and clouds of yellow smoke. He said he was going to see if he could be of any assistance.

The sergeant warned him that there was danger.

The priest said he didn't care.

So that was what the debate was all about, McKaskey thought. The priest's safety. Never assume.

McCaskey didn't want to stand there while Luis bled. Cradling him gently to his chest, he turned and started walking toward the arches. The soldier let him go. McCaskey turned and saw him attending to the wounded captain.

McCaskey returned to the arch. Carefully, he set Luis down beside María. He looked back. The priest was kneeling beside the captain. He turned back to the injured man.

"Poor Luis," María said. She set the gun down and touched his cheek.

McCaskey felt a pinch of jealousy. Not for María's touch but for the concern he saw in her eyes. The look came from deep inside her, pushing aside her own pain. He had been such a damn fool to lose her. He noticed, now, how pale she looked as well. He had to get help for her.

McCaskey unbuttoned his cuff and ripped off the bottom of his sleeve. He lay the cloth on Luis's wound.

"You both need medical help," McCaskey announced. "I'm going to try and get to a telephone-call for an ambulance. As soon as I do that, I'll look for your friend Juan."

María shook her head. "It may be too late-"

She tried to get up. McCaskey pushed down firmly on her shoulders.

"María-"

"Stop it!" she shouted.

"María, listen to me," McCaskey said. "Give me just a little time. With any luck this assault will make it unnecessary to rescue Juan or anyone else from General Amadori's thugs."

"I don't believe in luck," María said. She used her free hand to push aside his arms. "I believe in the lousiness of people. And so far I've never been disappointed. Amadori may execute his prisoners just to keep them from talking about what he's been doing-"

María stopped. She glanced past McCaskey. As she did, her eyes widened.

"What is it?" McCaskey asked, turning around.

"I know that man," she said.

McCaskey gazed into the courtyard. The priest was hurrying toward them. He slowed as he neared. He obviously recognized her as well.

"María," the priest said as he reached the arch.

"Father Norberto," she replied. "What are you doing here?"

"It was strange fortune brought me," he said. He squatted and touched her head comfortingly. Then he looked at her wound. "My poor girl."

"I'll live," she said.

"You've lost a lot of blood," Norberto said.

He glanced at Luis. "So has this man. Has a doctor been summoned?"

"I'm going now," McCaskey said.

"No!" María shouted.

"It's all right," Norberto said, "I'll stay with you."

"It isn't that," María said. "There's a prisoner-he must be helped!"

"Where?" Norberto asked.

"He's in a room over there," she said. She pointed toward the doorway along the palace wall. "I'm afraid they'll kill him."

Norberto took her hand. He patted it as he rose. "I will go to him, María," he said. "You stay here and try not to move."

María looked from the priest to McCaskey. The concern McCaskey