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Whoever had run an organ farm in this building would not want to be discovered, and there was a lot of money in such evil businesses. That was how the devil rewarded his friends -- lots of money, up to the moment he betrayed them and left them to face the agony of hell alone.
Outside the building, she spoke again to Pablo. "He really hid in there?"
"He was very tiny," said Pablo de Noches. "He was crawling when I found him, but he was soaking wet up to his shoulder on one side, and his chest. I thought he peed himself, but he said no. Then he showed me the toilet. And he was red here, here, where he pressed against the mechanism."
"He was talking," she said.
"Not a lot. A few words. So tiny. I could not believe a child so small could talk."
"How long was he in there?"
Pablo shrugged. "Shriveled up skin like old lady. All over. Cold. I was thinking, he will die. Not warm water like a swimming pool. Cold. He shivered all night."
"I can't understand why he *didn't* die," said Sister Carlotta.
Pablo smiled. "No hay nada que Dios no puede hacer."
"True," she answered. "But that doesn't mean we can't figure out *how* God works his miracles. Or why."
Pablo shrugged. "God does what he does. I do my work and live, the best man I can be."
She squeezed his arm. "You took in a lost child and saved him from people who meant to kill him. God saw you do that and he loves you."
Pablo said nothing, but Sister Carlotta could guess what he was thinking -- how many sins, exactly, were washed away by that good act, and would it be enough to keep him out of hell?
"Good deeds do not wash away sins," said Sister Carlotta. "Solo el redentor puede limpiar su alma."
Pablo shrugged. Theology was not his skill.
"You don't do good deeds for yourself," said Sister Carlotta. "You do them because God is in you, and for those moments you are his hands and his feet, his eyes and his lips."
"I thought God was the baby. Jesus say, if you do it to this little one, you do it to me."