Quevedo nodded. “Castro is a natural criminal. Some of the newspapers compare him to Robin Hood, but I myself don’t see it. The man is quite ruthless and dangerous, like all communists. Probably he has been a communist since 1948, when he was still a student. But in his heart he’s worse than a communist. He’s a communist and a natural autocrat. He’s a Stalinist.”

“I’m sure I agree with you, Lieutenant. I certainly have no desire to see this country collapse into communism. I despise all communists.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.”

“As I said, I’m hoping to do López a good turn, is all. It just happens that I might be able to do you a good turn too.”

“A quid pro quo, so to speak.”

“Maybe.”

Quevedo grinned. “Well, now I’m intrigued.” He collected the pack of Trend off the desk and lit one of the little cigars. It seemed almost unpatriotic to smoke such a diminutive cigar. “Please, do go on.”

“According to what I read in the newspapers, the Moncada Barracks rebels were poorly armed. Shotguns, a few M1 rifles, a Thompson, a bolt-action Springfield.”

“That’s quite correct. Most of our efforts are directed toward preventing ex-President Prío from getting arms to the rebels. So far we’ve been very successful. In the last couple of years we’ve seized over one million dollars’ worth of arms.”

“What if I was to tell you the location of an arms cache that contains everything from grenades to a belt-fed machine gun?”

“I should say that it was your duty as a guest in my country to tell me where those arms can be found.” He sucked on the little cigar for a moment. “Then I should also say that I could certainly arrange for your friend to be freed immediately once the arms cache is found. But might I inquire how it is you come to know about these weapons?”