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For what? Norberto wondered with bitter indignation. For information? For vengeance? For amusement?

Whatever the reason, it couldn't justify this. And in a Catholic nation, a nation that purportedly lived by the Decalogue and by the teachings of Jesus Christ, what his captors had done was a mortal sin. For their crimes they would live outside of God's grace for eternity.

Not that that would help this poor man. Father Norberto lowered himself to his knees beside the dying prisoner. He pushed the man's sweat-dampened hair from his forehead and touched his bloody cheek.

The prisoner opened his eyes. There was no sparkle in them; only confusion and pain. They drifted down the priest's robe and then returned to his eyes. He tried to lift his arm. Father Norberto caught his trembling hand and held it between his own hands.

"My son," said Norberto. "I am Father Norberto."

The man looked up. " 'Father-what is happening?"

"You've been hurt," Norberto said. "Just rest quietly."

"Hurt? How badly?"

"Be still," Norberto said softly. He squeezed the man's hand and smiled down at him. "What is your name?"

"I am Juan Martinez."

"I am Father Norberto. Do you wish to make a confession?"

Juan looked around. His eyes were darting and afraid. "Father am I dying?"

Norberto did not reply. He only held Juan's hand tighter.

"But how can this be?" Juan asked. "There is no pain."

"God is merciful," Norberto said.

Juan clutched the priest's fingers. His eyes shut slowly. "Father-if God is merciful, then I pray He will forgive my sins."

"He will forgive only if you repent sincerely," Norberto replied. In the distance he heard guns popping with less frequency. There would be many others who needed God's comfort-and His forgiveness. Pressing his cross to the lips of the wounded man, Norberto asked, "Are you truly sorry for having offended God with all the sins of your past life?"

Juan kissed the cross. "I am truly sorry," he said contritely and with great effort. "I have killed many men. Some at a radio station. Another in a room-a fisherman."

Norberto felt Death turn and laugh at him. He had never experienced anything so cruel or punishing as this moment-the realization that the hand nestled in his was the hand that had slain his brother.

Norberto's eyes were points of rage in a sea of ice. They burned into the man before him as though he were the Devil himself. Father Norberto wanted desperately to throw the man's hand aside and watch him slide into eternal damnation, unconfessed and unsaved.

This man murdered my brother-

"The killings had to be," Juan choked. His hand was shaking and he clutched Norberto's fingers harder. "But I am truly sorry for them."

Norberto shut his eyes. His teeth were locked and trembling, his hand unresponsive to Juan's touch. Yet he fought the urge to drop this hand that had snuffed out Adolfo's life. As much as he was a grieving brother he was also a father ordained in the sight of God.

"Father-" Juan coughed. "Help me to say the words."

Norberto drew air through his teeth. It is not necessary that I forgive him. Forgiveness is the province of God.

The priest opened his eyes and glared down at the bruised face and broken body sprawled before him. "Father, forgive me my transgressions," Norberto said coldly, "for which I am truly repentant."

"I repent," Juan rasped. "I repent truly." Juan shut his eyes. His breath came in short gasps.

"Sins forgiven are removed from the soul, restoring the sinner to a state of sanctifying grace," Norberto said. "May God forgive you your trespasses and deliver you unto salvation."

Juan's lips parted slowly. There was a short sigh. Then there was nothing more.

Norberto continued to stare down at the dead man. Juan's hand was cold. Blood continued to trickle from his chest and cheek.

Norberto could not justify or forgive what this man had done. But Adolfo had gone fishing in a sea where the prey fight back. If Juan had not slain his brother then someone else would have. Tears filled Norberto's eyes. He should have stopped it with Adolfo.

If only