Manuel Alvarez Lerdo, Wilfredo's father, and his partner, Raul Garcia Mallea, liked best to operate in the more fashionable steam baths. It was a safe bet that a man who paid seven pesos to get in, and five more for a private cabin, would not be a pauper, and could cough up some money when the time for it came. (Regularly, every Saturday night, the partners would arrest a few jotos, engaging in a grossly indecent act right under the trees in Parque Chapultapec. No great loss, these! They usually had no money, were easy to apprehend, and filled the weekly arrest quota required from every detective.) In the bath the whole thing had to be timed very carefully. The owner paid enough to the Station jefe in order not to be molested by the police. However, on Thursday and Friday nights he was never in, and the attendant gave the two policemen the run of the place, for a consideration of twenty-five pesos.

The bait usually was Paco. Manuel thought his nephew was a marvel. It seemed that Paco could produce an erection at will, which was, among the jotos, a sign of availability and readiness throughout the country and, for this matter, the whole world. It never occurred to Manuel that his nephew might be a joto too. Paco loved to talk about his wild escapades with the viejas-the gals and everybody believed that "showing a hard" was a trick he mastered.

Manuel and Raul entered the bath and sat behind the front desk, seemingly part of the staff. Paco undressed, checked his clothes, and entered the dry steam room. Like a released switchknife-blade his organ jumped to life—a vibrant, pulsating signal that Paco was an entendido. He wasn't particularly handsome, nor was his body especially well-proportioned; but he appeared eager, and was young and healthy-looking. He must have been in that particular bath at least thirty times, without once failing in his mission. Sooner or later someone would approach him and, after a brief conversation, the two would go into a private cabin. Paco was no fool. He always got ten percent of the mordida (his uncle never cheated him) and had quite a knack for spotting the rich jotos, while rejecting the overtures of the poor ones. It wasn't easy. How can one tell the rich from the poor among a naked lot? Paco knew a few rules of thumb: foreigners were easier prey than Mexicans, and older men tended to have more money than younger ones.

Sometimes, however, Paco would grow impatient with the heat and steam, and take on the first joto to approach him. This time it was a young Mexican, with pronounced Indian features, who certainly wasn't older than twenty-three. Manuel and Raul who sat behind the desk, watching through the glass panel, saw the man moving towards Paco and lying down next to him, on the marblelike bench. He was saying something to Paco, and then handled his golden. medallion. (Like most Mexicans Paco sported a medallion around his neck. His was rather unusual-an exquisite, pure gold image of the Blessed Virgin of Guadalupe. Most jotos started their conversation with Paco by admiring the medallion, which gave them an opportunity to talk to him, as well as establish bodily contact, without being too forward.)

Some five minutes later the two policemen saw Paco and his newly-found friend getting up, their organs erect. They took a shower, and entered a private cabin. As the door closed, Manuel and Raul grew tense. These were the most critical moments of the operation. Paco must be found in a compromising situation, when they would burst into the cabin. The correct timing was a most delicate maneuver. Once they had been too eager. A crazy gringo joto sat on a chair and serenaded Paco with his guitar. The gringo refused to pay, and it turned out to be a waste of time and money. Another time they had

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