“A while ago I was driving my car in El Calvario. It was late, the road was dark, I’d probably had a little too much to drink, and I was certainly driving too fast. I lost control of my car and skidded off the road. At first I thought I had a flat or a broken axle, and I got out to take a look with a flashlight. In fact, my tires had churned up a lot of dirt and broken through some wooden planks that were covering up something buried underneath. I lifted one plank, shone the flashlight inside, and saw a box of Mark 2 FHGs and a Browning M19. Probably there was a whole lot more, only I didn’t figure it was safe to stay there for very long. So I covered the boards with earth again and marked the spot with some stones so that I could find it. Anyway, last night I went to check, and the stones hadn’t been moved, which leads me to suppose that the cache is still there.”

“Why didn’t you report this at the time?”

“I certainly intended to, Lieutenant. But by the time I got back home I decided that if I told the authorities, someone might get the idea that there was a lot more to tell than I’ve told you, and I lost my nerve.”

Quevedo shrugged. “There doesn’t seem to be much that’s wrong with your nerves now.”

“Don’t be too sure of that. Inside, my stomach is turning over like a washing machine. But as I told you, I owe López a favor.”

“He’s a lucky man to have a friend like you.”

“That’s for him to say.”

“True.”

“Well? Do we have a trade?”

“You’ll take us to where this arms cache is hidden?”

I nodded.

“Then, yes. We have a trade. But how shall we do this?” He stood up and walked around his office thoughtfully. “Let’s see now. I know. We’ll take López with us, and if the weapons are where you say they are, then you can take him with you. As simple as that. Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

“All right. I’ll need a little time to organize everything. Why don’t you wait in here and watch the television while I go and set things up? Do you like baseball?”

“Not particularly. I can’t relate to it. In real life there are no third chances.”

Quevedo shook his head. “It’s a cop’s game. Believe me, I’ve thought about it. You see, when you hit something with a club, it changes everything.” Then he went out.