I started to bear off, with him still locked out. Now there was a real danger that he might not get any of his checkers back to his own home board before I finished bearing off. This was called a “gammon” and would have cost him double the stake on the cube.

García was throwing like a madman now, and there was no sign of his earlier sangfroid. With each roll of the dice he remained locked out. The game was lost, with nothing left to play for but the possibility of saving the gammon. Finally he was back on the board and racing for home, with me left with only six checkers to bear off. But low throws continued to dog his progress. A few seconds later, the game and gammon were mine.

“That’s gammon,” I said quietly. “That makes double what’s on the cube. I make that thirty-two hundred pesos. Plus the eleven hundred forty you already owe me, and that makes—”

“I can add,” he said brusquely. “There’s nothing wrong with my math.”

I resisted the temptation to point out that it was his skill at backgammon that was at fault, not his math.

García looked at his watch. And so did I. It was ten-forty.

“I have to leave,” he said, closing the board abruptly.

“Are you coming back?” I asked. “After you’ve been to your club?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’ll be here for a while. To give you a chance to win it back.”

But we both knew he wouldn’t be returning. He counted out forty-three hundred-peso notes from a fifty-note bundle and handed them over.

I nodded and said, “Plus ten percent for the house, that’s two hundred each.” I riffled my fingers at his remaining cash. “I’ll pay for the drinks myself.”

Sullenly he thumbed another couple of bills at me. Then he closed the catches on top of the ugly backgammon set, tucked it under his arm, and quickly walked away, shouldering his way through the other gamblers like a character in a horror movie.

I pocketed my winnings and went to find the casino manager again. He looked as if he’d hardly moved since I’d last spoken to him.

“Is the game over?” he asked.

“For the moment. Señor García has to visit his club. And I have a meeting upstairs with Señor Reles. After that we may resume. I said I’d wait here to give him a chance to win back his money. So we’ll see.”

“I’ll keep the table free,” said the manager.

“Thank you. And perhaps you’d be kind enough to let Señor Reles know that I’m on my way up to see him now.”

“Yes, of course.”

I handed him four hundred pesos. “Ten percent of the table stakes. I believe that’s normal.”