“Small.”

Alicia turned on the desk lamp. A warm, powdery light filled the room. She opened the first drawer in the desk and found a carved wooden box.

Vargas walked over and sat on a corner of the table. “If it’s a humidor, I want the first Montecristo,” he said.

Alicia opened the box. The inside was lined with blue velvet and seemed shaped to hold a revolver, but now it was empty. Vargas leaned over and stroked the edge of the box. He smelled his fingers, then nodded.

She pulled open the next drawer. It contained a collection of cases, all neatly lined up as if they were part of an exhibition. “They seem like little coffins,” she said.

“Show me the corpse,” said Vargas.

Alicia opened one of the cases. It contained a black-lacquered fountain pen with a white star on the tip of its cap. She pulled it out and smiled as she felt its weight, then pulled off the cap and slowly twisted one of the ends. A gold and platinum nib that seemed wrought by a cabal of wise men and goldsmiths shone in her hands.

“Is that the magic fountain pen of Fantômas?” asked Vargas.

“Almost. This is the first fountain pen produced by Montblanc. It dates back to 1905. A very expensive piece.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Leandro has one exactly like it.”

“It’s more your sort of thing.”

Alicia put the pen back in the case and closed the drawer. “I know. Leandro promised he’d give it to me the day I retired.”

“And that will be?”

“Soon.”

She tugged at the third and last drawer, but it was locked. She glanced at Vargas.

He shook his head. “If you want the key, go down and ask your friend Doña Mariana.”

“I wouldn’t like to bother her when she’s so busy with ‘Don Mauricio’s affairs.’”

“So?”

“I thought at headquarters you were given courses on breaking and entering.”

Vargas sighed. “Move out of the way.”

The policeman knelt down in front of the set of drawers and pulled out of his jacket an ivory handle, from which he then unfolded a double-edged serrated blade. “Don’t think you’re the only one who knows about collectors’ pieces. Pass me that paper knife.”

Alicia handed it to him, and he began to force the lock with the blade, at the same time using the paper knife to push at the gap between the drawer and the desk.

“Something tells me this isn’t the first time you’ve done this,” Alicia observed.

“Some people go to soccer games, and others force locks. You’ve got to have some hobby.”

The operation took a little over two minutes. With a metallic snap, the lock gave way and the paper knife sank into the drawer. Vargas pulled out the blade. There wasn’t a single scratch or dent on it.

“Tempered steel?” asked Alicia.

Vargas folded the knife neatly by pressing the tip of the blade on the floor, and put it back in the inside pocket of his jacket.