The large white room had marble cornices and appointments. It was located in the southeastern sector of the palace, not far from the king's bedchamber. María reached it by moving cautiously from doorway to doorway. Most of the rooms along the way were unoccupied; those that were, she skipped. If an alarm of any kind had been raised about her escape, the search was confined to the area around the music room and the throne room. It was an appropriate use of manpower. They knew she had to try to get to Amadori eventually. The trick was to make sure they didn't notice her.

The uniform came to her courtesy of a young sergeant. He had entered the changing room with two other men. When he opened the door, María was crouched on the toilet with both pistols pointed toward him.

"Come in and lock the door," she snarled in a low voice. The hum of the ceiling fan prevented her voice from carrying outside the stall.

There's a moment when most people who are confronted with a gun will freeze. During that brief time, the individual holding the weapon must give an instruction. If the command is given immediately and emphatically it will usually be obeyed. If it isn't, if the target panics, then the decision must be made whether to withdraw or fire.

María had already decided that she'd shoot to disable everyone in the room before allowing herself to be caught. Fortunately, the wide-eyed soldier did as he'd been ordered.

As soon as the door had been locked, María motioned the soldier over with one of the guns. She held the other one pointed up, toward his forehead.

"Lock your fingers behind your head," she said. "Then turn around and back toward me."

He clasped his fingers tightly behind his cap. María reached behind her without taking her eyes from him. She put one of her guns on the toilet tank, relieved him of his pistol, and tucked it in her belt, behind her. Then she retrieved the gun she'd put on the toilet.

María stepped back on the seat.

"Drop these." She poked his butt with the gun. "Sit on the edge on your hands."

The soldier obeyed.

"When your friends leave," she whispered in his ear, "tell them to go without you. Otherwise, you all die."

María and the sergeant-his nameplate said García-waited. She swore she could hear his heartbeat. He did as he was instructed when the others called to him, and when they were gone María told him to rise. Still facing front, he was told to take off his uniform.

He did. María then turned him around so he was facing the toilet. She told him to kneel in front of it.

"Please don't shoot me," he said. "Please."

"I won't," she said, "if you do as you're told."