By Ben Harding BILBAO, Spain, June 8 (Reuters) - Bodyguards protecting Daniel Arranz cast a discreet eye from the corner of a plush Bilbao bar as the town councillor talks about the latest broken ceasefire by armed Basque separatists ETA. His minders check for car bombs before driving him to work by a different route each day across the region's rolling green hills. The jovial 55-year-old politician from Spain's ruling socialist party accepts the threat of assassination with a shrug and a smile -- this is just part of politics in the Basque Country. But armed protection is likely to become an increasingly common sight after the end of a 15-month truce on Wednesday by ETA guerrillas, who have killed over 800 people in four decades of fighting for independence from Spain. The ceasefire effectively ended when ETA bombed Madrid airport in December, killing two people, but the armed group's statement that it would attack "on all fronts" has sent shockwaves through regional politics. Breaking with past statements, ETA's communique accused regional rulers, the Basque National Party (PNV), of selling out to the Spanish government in Madrid -- in what some interpret as a threat to party members. Basques are holding their breaths. No one knows who, where or when ETA will attack but few are in any doubt the leftist group will strike. "I think it's going to be something big. A politician perhaps," says Maria Angeles as she sips a beer in bar frequented by supporters of banned political party Batasuna, its walls lined with pictures of ETA prisoners and with a collection pot for them on the counter. She declined to give her surname. RELIC? As if to underline the complex nature of Basque politics, Maria Angeles is a supporter of Batasuna -- banned for its links to ETA -- but describes ETA violence as "disgusting" and backs autonomy rather than an independent Basque nation. Across town, fellow Batasuna supporters wield placards outside the PNV's headquarters, protesting at being locked out of recent local elections. Inside, PNV leaders angrily denounce ETA's latest move. In the shopping district of Bilbao, the region's biggest city, ETA's campaign is such a part of daily life that many express a simple weariness over news that a fifth ceasefire had come and gone. Arranz, the councillor, said ETA was increasingly seen as a relic from the radical socialism of the 1960s and at odds with modern Bilbao -- a former coal, steel and shipping powerhouse whose image has been transformed by a stunning Guggenheim Museum. "It's an anachronism. They don't even bother making the political claims they used to," he said. But that does not diminish the threat to politicians, judges, businessmen and journalists he warned. Arranz's friend, Juan Maria Jauregui -- who like him used to be one of Madrid's governors in region -- was shot by an ETA gunman while drinking coffee in a village bar seven years ago. Jauregui's widow, Maizabel Lasa, works for a group helping families of government employees killed by ETA. This week has been especially difficult, knowing ETA could start killing again. "There are moments when I can't speak," she said, describing the depth of her grief, before adding the oft-repeated plea from Basques for a solution without violence. (Additional reporting by Arantza Goyoaga and Vincent West)
