“Money laundering. Is it the legacy of Mexico and the grand Aragon name to be the conduit for drug cartels and brutal dictators and other criminals throughout the world? Do we need to make our money that way? If, to run a successful business, we need to violate laws and help others violate laws, there are big problems with the management of that business. If we don’t, let’s not.
“These are just some of my thoughts, gentlemen. I know you all to be gentlemen, honorable men. I ask nothing less for business done in Groupo Aragon’s name. I accept my grandfather’s destiny for me in that spirit.”
The twelve men gathered around the conference table just stared at her, silently. Slowly, expressions formed. David Colon, director of banking and finance, betrayed a wry smile, lips turned up. Gerardo Aguirre, the board’s vice chair and managing director, veteran of twenty years of Aragon combat and victories, revealed in eyelids that folded into narrow slits his anger at such impudence. Some heads turned to look at other heads, a slight twist of a neck, a cough and sudden glance. Isabel, expecting shock waves, held steady for them. She was determined to wait out the silence for a reaction.
It came from Javier Carmona.
“Señora,” he said quietly, his voice at a volume and intensity no different from his introduction of her, with a matter-of-factness associated with the announcement of a lunch break.
“Señora,” he repeated. You have given us much to consider and I promise you that we will. We now have a very long and detailed agenda of other matters. We thank you for your time and suggestions and after the board completes its business today I will be in contact to discuss our next steps. Please, let us all thank Señora Aragon Tennyson for her appearance with us today.”
Carmona rose from his chair and began applauding. Others reluctantly followed his lead. Isabel wanted to talk more, to exchange views, to bring matters to a conclusion. But Carmona would not have it. In the gentlest of ways, he told her to get lost. It was an instruction she could not refuse.
She returned to the family compound in mental turmoil but pleased with herself for being true to her intentions. She spoke truth to some of the most powerful people in Mexico, ruthless, cunning people. Would they admire her for the guts she displayed in calling them out? Would they hate her for interfering with a longstanding game at which they were most proficient and clearly successful? Ground that had seemed so solid to her just a few days earlier now felt dangerously unstable. Her idyllic life was threatened. Her idol destroyed. The wealth all around her now appeared to be dripping with the sweat and misery and blood of her family’s victims.
Two messages waited for her when she returned home. One was a request that she meet with Javier Carmona at 10:00 a.m. the next morning. The waves roiled in the wake of Isabel’s meeting with the board had rippled quickly. The board apparently had lost no time reaching agreement about how to deal with her.
The second message was an envelope. Inside, on a silver chain, was a Saint Benedictine medal, worn not just by Roman Catholics but by those of many denominations to ward off evil and temptation. Isabel recognized it as Federico’s. It was accompanied by a brief hand-written note from her brother. “God be with you. I will always be there for you, even if you never ask...” Federico had disappeared back into the land of Groupo Aragon’s victims.
8
“Señora, so good to see you again. Thank you for being here on such short notice. I am certain that you would like to resolve questions about your future as quickly as possible, and that also is our wish for the stability of Groupo Aragon.”
“Yes, certainly,” Isabel responded. “I hope the members of the board accepted my comments in a positive spirit. That’s what I intended.”
“We all appreciated your candor. It’s so much easier to do business when all parties are as forthright.”
“I respect the achievements of the board members and look forward to working with them and learning from them.”
Why not assume the best, thought Isabel.
“Ah, señora, that is what we must discuss. In your American baseball you have what are called veterans who have been playing the game for a long time and rookies who are new to the game, yes?”
“Yes, and you don’t have to convince me, I’m a rookie.”
“But yesterday you spoke to a group of veterans. A group that includes many who would be in a business hall of fame, if we had such an institution. You spoke in a way that was most disturbing, as a rookie.”
“I certainly regret if any took offense. I meant none. I just didn’t want to surprise anyone later with my views on how the business should be run.”
“It was not an offense. It’s very hard to offend people like us who have been through so many difficult and delicate business experiences. It was actually helpful. We all understood from your remarks that there would be too deep a divide between us to have a successful long-term relationship. It is much better that we know that now than later. We all appreciate that you have made that clear.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“As are we. It would have been an honor to have had a member of the great Aragon family in leadership again.”
“What do you mean, would have?”
“The members of the board have decided to terminate our relationship with you immediately, on cordial terms, of course, before any misunderstandings arise that might compromise the business later.”
“But you can’t do that. My grandfather’s will.... you yourself said it was his wish.”
“Forgive me, señora. At yesterday’s meeting of the board I was reminded of an amendment to the will, signed and executed while I was traveling in China. Your grandfather used an outside counsel. The amendment provides that the board must ratify any decision for succession. At yesterday’s meeting the board declined to ratify your status and instructed me to reach a termination agreement with you.”
Federico anticipated this would be the most likely outcome. They won’t let you, he had said. She had hoped for better but since it came as no surprise, she managed to maintain a rigid composure. She had overcome her weaknesses yesterday, confronting the entire board. She could certainly go one-on-one with Carmona.
“Javier, you have invented this barrier haven’t you? You said nothing about this when we first spoke. There is no such addendum. I do not believe it and I will challenge legally. I will not be bullied.”
“It hurts me, señora, that you believe I am dishonoring your grandfather and his trust. He’s a man I loved and honored as I would my own brother. Yes, there is an addendum. Here’s a copy.”
Carmona had the document ready on his desk and handed it to her. As she scanned it he said, “It’s all properly executed and registered. It was created by one of Mexico’s leading law firms.”
Isabel saw that this track had closed before she even left the building yesterday. She moved to another, one of conciliation.
“Javier, I’ve had time to study the business. And, yes, I’ve spoken with my brother. What I said yesterday, about being able to grow and profit and do that without exploiting the weak or skirting the law or making a mockery of ethical behavior, I believe that. I have no way of knowing what my grandfather faced in building Groupo Aragon. But I know today’s business. You say one of my strengths would be to expand our enterprise into the United States. To do that, we would have to comply with much more rigorous ethical codes and legal restraints than you have in Mexico. Let’s work together to migrate Groupo Aragon into being a good citizen rather than a corrupt one.”
“But señora, we already are good citizens. In the last year alone we supported such causes as the nation’s soccer team, the national opera, thousands of scholarships for bright young students to attend colleges anywhere in the world, and local causes in every state and community in Mexico. We are good citizens.”
“We are a corrupt monopoly,” Isabel pressed on, “We can change that. Everyone at the table yesterday is rich beyond any fortune they could po
ssibly spend in their lifetime. Billions and billions of pesos are in Groupo Aragon’s accounts just waiting to be distributed to those of us who privately own shares. Meanwhile we starve workers and grab their homes when they can’t make a mortgage payment. As a monopoly we charge far more than we need to charge for services people can’t live without. The reduction of profit by even a small amount could make huge differences in the lives of tens of millions of people. And we would have a healthier economy—more money to spend, better educated people, housed better, lower health costs.
Isabel paused, looking for a signal from Carmona’s passive expression to see whether she was making an impression. There was none. He was the veteran. The pro. Probably the hall of famer.
She continued. “We have it in our power to reduce all the killings from the cartels and make a significant reduction in violence, lawlessness, the transport of illegal money. That’s all I’m talking about, and it should neither upset you and the board nor disqualify me from a leadership role in this company.”
Carmona retained his demeanor of cordiality. He offered her more coffee. He weighed his response carefully. She waited. The next move would be his.
“Señora, it is not for us to say what the culture of an entire nation or continent will be. We live in the time and the place where we find ourselves. There are fantasies and realities. Your grandfather operated extremely successfully in this world. Should you try to change this now, others would only fill that vacuum and most likely would do it with less concern for those you hope to help. If you value Don Miguel’s memory, the good man that he was, the loving family patriarch, the bearer of all the things brought to you and your family, listen to those with far more experience and knowledge than you have. I am so sorry señora. I’m afraid there will be no possibility of the enterprise allowing you to participate in our management. You have told the directors of Groupo Aragon of your vision for the company. Now they have told you that your vision is not theirs. We will have to part ways.”
Conciliation track ended, Isabel moved to round three.
“You should know that I will challenge this.”
Carmona was silent for a moment, apparently in deep thought.
“Does that disturb you?” she asked.
“Forgive me, señora, I was just thinking, trying to recommend a law firm in Mexico substantial enough and courageous enough to accept a management control case against Groupo Aragon. So many firms would find conflicts with business they already do with us and with the companies of those who serve on our board.”
“I’ll find an American firm.”
“Ah, yes, an American firm. They would cost you a great deal more, of course. I hope you have the resources to pay them.”
“I’m rich. You told me that yourself. I’m worth a billion American dollars.”
“You certainly are, as soon as we transfer the stock to you. Unfortunately, the employment agreement you signed with us years ago includes a provision that anything of value owed to an employee by the company will be frozen until any litigation between the company and the employee is resolved. It’s a standard clause, for the company’s protection. And of course it would be applied if you litigate. You certainly are free to make any claim you wish against the company. And once those issues are resolved we will release what’s due to you. That may be in, what, three, five, ten years? The Mexican judicial system isn’t known for its speed and efficiency.”
Carmona’s handling of her was relentlessly proper and cordial, with even the most dire threats positively framed. She was only now realizing how masterful an adversary he was. But she was not finished.
“Javier,” I have contacts. I’ve been dealing with people of wealth for many years. I can afford to hire counsel. Eventually you will have to release my money. Everyone who works with me will know they will be paid.”
“As you wish, Señora Tennyson. But before you go, it would be in your best interest, in your family’s best interest, to know that we have been investigating many irregularities that seem to be connected with Southern California Trust and Savings, our bank that your dear father has so ably managed for many years.”
That threat sent an instant chill up Isabel’s back, and for the first time in the conversation she lost control.
“My father! He has nothing to do with this!”
“Of course he doesn’t. I am just mentioning it as a friend, so it will not come as a surprise to you and your family.”
“What type of......irregularities?” She spit out the word.
“Some missing funds. Possibly nothing. Perhaps clerical error. But we cannot be certain. It would be most unfortunate if your father, so close to retirement, were to be held responsible for any problems found by our examiners. Such things, you know, can lead to time in prison as well as dismissals.”
Carmona had this card in his hand all along. She had never considered it. Ruthlessness to her had been an abstract concept. Now she saw its face. She had a lot to learn.
She just sat and stared at Carmona, who, with kindly eyes, didn’t blink.
Hall of famer is all she could think of. Hall of famer. Game over. Rookie loses.
They understood one another. No more words needed to pass between them. But Carmona tried never to leave a defeated foe lying wounded and unattended after a negotiation. Angry losers were dangerous.
“Señora Tennyson. Because of the affection your grandfather held for you he left you a sizable portion of his own fortune. When all the papers are properly filed and money is transferred you will be one of the richest women in the entire world. You can do anything you want. You can buy yachts. You can have your own personal jet plane. You can buy your own island. You can buy your own bank and operate it any way you wish. You can give it all away if that’s your choice. The one thing in this entire world you will not be able to do is have any position in authority with Groupo Aragon. Welcome your good fortune. Don’t grieve for any loss.
“The enterprise will accept your resignation from your current position with regret and understanding after a proper mourning period. Your father’s good name will be secure. Sizable donations will be made to the charities important to your mother in your grandfather’s name. “Life will continue, and likely much better for you than before. We wish you only the best.”
Her energy spent, understanding her defeat, the tight ball of determination that had been Isabel Aragon Tennyson unraveled into the cushions that had been her battle station. She looked at him for a silent moment, a look that simultaneously conveyed both admiration and disgust.
“Who will become the chief executive of Groupo Aragon,” she asked, quietly, curiously.
Carmona stood, signaling that the meeting was over. He extended his hand. Reflexively she allowed him to help her rise, not a handshake, more of a splint for her broken spirit.
“Yesterday the board elected me to that position,” said Carmona. “I will try to honor your dear grandfather, my best friend, Don Miguel, by managing Groupo Aragon just as he would.”
Political Years
9
For most, the bulging bank account that accompanied Isabel on her return to Los Angeles would have been life’s defining experience. For Isabel, conflicted by feelings of love for and betrayal by her grandfather, and the tainted source of her new fortune, the money was not enough to cure her sense of defeat and loss, feelings that traveled with her from Mexico City and remained despite all remedies she used to get past the black days just endured. Loss of Papa Miguel, and the obliteration of his revered pedestal. Loss of self-confidence. She felt adrift. No goal to aim for. No job to go to. For the past six years her work had been her life. Her home was the 6,000-mile sea of air between Los Angeles and the southern coast of Chile, with ports of call in between. Fun, excitement, her ego polished with each new business and romantic conquest. Now it had ended, abruptly. In little more than a week, her triumph with the Banco Temuco deal had spiraled into Miguel’s death, Federico’s shocking revelations and, finally, h
er humiliating failure to secure the Aragon legacy Miguel had intended for her.
She filled the first weeks of her return with busy work, some necessary, like finding ways to secure and invest her new fortune, some frivolous, like replacing most of her furniture and dressing her kitchen in a happier shade of blue. She wanted her new world to look different than the painful one she was leaving behind. Though she kept herself occupied with mail, phone calls, family, nothing weakened her consuming sense of sorrow. Until she thought of Carmie. Once again, Carmie.
So many times it was Carmie she had turned to when they were both young and things went badly at home, or a boyfriend dumped her, or she just felt teenage blah. Carmie had helped her get past Andres and her miscarriages. Now the need for Carmie welled as an imperative. Once the thought entered her head there was no denying it. A phone call, a plane ticket, and within two days the old friends were together in New York City, sharing margaritas at the Gramercy Park Hotel bar, near Carmie’s apartment.
While Tenny was becoming a force in Latin American finance, Carmie had been growing her own reputation on Wall Street as a trusted and perceptive financial analyst. Carmie knew enough about Groupo Aragon from street talk not to be surprised at Tenny’s story. What did surprise her was the courage and naivety her friend showed trying to upend that corporate behemoth. She loved Tenny for it.
“You know of course,” said Carmie, “Carmona was right.”
“Not from you, too, Carmie!”
“No. Hear me out. Even if Carmona agreed to let you stay there and try to change the culture, your chances of doing it would be worse than zero. The other barracudas in the company would do you in. I fight turf and control battles every day, and that’s right here in New York, where the rule book means more. If you hadn’t lost to Carmona, it would have been to whoever’s under him gunning for his job, or some competitor, or judge, or politician. It’s the system. No. You have to pick fights you can win.”
The Latina President...and the Conspiracy to Destroy Her Page 6
