The Hidden Light of Mexico City

by Carmen Amato

  “I never took 250 pesos,” Luz protested.

  “You were given 250 pesos to buy food for la señora’s party,” Hector said. “You didn’t bring the food and you haven’t given back the money.”

  Luz looked at him in utter disbelief.

  Hector shrugged impassively, as if to say he was only the messenger.

  “This isn’t even enough finiquito,” Luz pointed out. “They owe me six years worth.”

  Hector looked around the room and made a small motion. His meaning was clear. The rest of her finiquito was paying for the hospital.

  Anything you want, Tomás had said. Luz had eaten gourmet dinners, had her hair done, and watched movies without a thought as to who was paying for all this luxury. She’d been el jefe’s lady for a while, cared for by the best in Eddo’s world, but it had been just another charade.

  “I didn’t know,” Luz said dully.

  She signed the paper. Hector took it and gave her the other envelope. He nodded at her without expression and left.

  '

  In the afternoon Luz convinced Diego to get them each a cappuccino from the shop in the lobby. The kind with chocolate on top. She’d be fine by herself for a minute or two.

  When he left Luz got out of bed and dressed, wincing from the effort. She left a note on the dresser. There were no nurses at the desk as she wheeled the big suitcase down the hall and out the back entrance of the hospital, avoiding the lobby. She managed to walk around the big building to the sitio stand where a driver took her suitcase and put it in the trunk of his taxi.

  The sitio took her to the bus station. Luz was in a pain-filled daze as the bus bounced along the highway. A cheap libre taxi took her home. Dragging the big suitcase across the concrete yard and up the steps took more strength than she had. She passed out as she walked into the living room.

  Chapter 46

  Gomez Mazzo toggled through the files again, once more impressed with the information that Cortez had put together and the nerve the man had shown. Fortune had showed up and he had again grabbed it with both hands. Without Lorena as a distraction, Romero almost certainly would win the presidential election. Cortez would be the best asset El Toro ever had.

  There just remained the problem of Hugo and what to do about Site 1. And certain other things that were no longer useful.

  “Chino.” Gomez Mazzo gestured to the cabinet.

  Chino got up, selected a rum cooler, and opened it.

  Gomez Mazzo took a long pull from the bottle. He belched with satisfaction then pointed at Chino. “When we get to shore call Pepe. He and the boys can take a holiday.”

  “How long?”

  Gomez Mazzo smiled. “Find something else for them to do.”

  Chino looked at him quizzically.

  Gomez Mazzo closed the laptop and drank more rum cooler. “Send the intruder team up there.”

  Understanding spread across Chino’s face. “A test, eh?”

  “They’re useless now.” Gomez Mazzo grinned at his own cleverness. “Except to show us what kind of guts Cortez really has.”

  Chino made a sound like a dry cough.

  Gomez Mazzo handed Chino the empty cooler bottle. “Go tell the captain to come here. See if we can’t pick up the speed a bit.”

  Chino left the cabin and Gomez Mazzo stared out the window. The sky was a brilliant blue and the sea was a sheet of glass.

  The feeling of freedom and power was exhilarating. There was nothing in El Toro’s way.

  Chapter 47

  The army convoy sounded like a swarm of bees as the trucks drove over the unpaved road northwest of Anahuac. Tomás and Eddo were in the third truck, wearing the same camouflage uniforms and body armor as the soldiers. As they bounced in the ruts and the army sergeant driving the heavy vehicle swore, Eddo checked his phone. No service.

  The vehicle’s GPS unit showed that they were almost to the coordinates.

  The radio crackled with instructions. Together with the soldiers in the truck bed, Eddo and Tomás pulled on the black fabric balaclavas that masked their faces and prevented them from being identified. Metal clicked as everyone did a weapons check.

  The convoy passed a small village tucked into the sparse shadow of a rocky hill. There were a few houses, a sheltered well, a store, and an outdoor restaurant. The place seemed empty. No one came outside to wonder at so many trucks or to sell drinks to the soldiers. Doors swung open in the ripple of wind caused by the passing of the trucks.

  “Look,” Tomás said over the noise of the trucks. “Whole fucking place is empty.”

  They’d seen no sign of humanity as they’d traveled the narrow road between Anahuac and the GPS coordinates. A few stray dogs and a goat, but that was it. The trucks rumbled on for a few more minutes and then a gray smudge appeared in the distance.

  “Think we found it,” the driver called.

  Some of the trucks moved off the road now, allowing the convoy to approach in a fan arrangement. The gray smudge composed itself into a long steel warehouse backing up to a rocky rise.

  Eddo knew the soldiers were sweating in anticipation of an ambush. But it wasn’t a good location for that; it was open and any potential threat could be seen from quite a distance. The place seemed deserted but his scalp prickled with anticipated danger.

  The trucks slowed and stopped about a quarter of a mile in front of the warehouse. As the air stilled around the stopped trucks, the acrid smell of human feces was an immediate assault.

  “Madre de Dios,” Eddo said.

  “Latrines,” Tomás said and jerked a thumb toward a line of open pits.

  Vultures circled overhead, lazy black harbingers of fear against the dry blue sky. The windowless warehouse made of corrugated steel glinted like molten metal, broken only by a black door with exposed tracks wide enough for a vehicle to go in and out. Tire patterns were ground into the dirt in front of it. Along one side of the building a few scrubby pines sheltered a collection of plastic tables and chairs, most toppled over in the dirt. Piles of trash bags were torn apart, likely by scavenging birds and desert animals. Debris was everywhere.

  Someone was sitting in a plastic chair in front of the wide black door. The figure didn’t move or acknowledge the convoy in any way. Vultures stalked between the chair and the trash.

  The colonel gave the signal and everyone spilled out of the vehicles and took up assigned positions. Two small units moved ahead, circling around the hills on either side of the warehouse. Eddo’s body armor was surprisingly light as he and Tomás grouped with the colonel and the group approached the warehouse.

  A gasp snaked along the lines of men from those in front all the way to the back. There were exclamations until the colonel barked out an order for silence.

  The figure in the chair held its head in its lap. The hands were arranged to hold it in place. The body was dressed in a suit that had once been gray and a shirt that was a solid sheet of dried blood. The sandy ground beneath the chair was stained dark brown.

  Most of the face had been pecked apart. A pair of metal spectacles was half buried in the sandy dirt by one foot.

  “Miguel,” Eddo said.

  “Played and lost,” Tomás muttered.

  Soldiers moved the body to one side, the birds fluttering away in angry protest. The wide metal door was padlocked and a soldier with huge metal cutters stepped forward to snap apart the lock.

  It took three soldiers to roll open the door. The tracks squealed a metallic protest until the door clanged into the fully open position.

  The colonel entered first, flanked by Eddo and Tomás. The stench and heat were almost unbearable.

  Eddo was startled to see people blinking in the light suddenly pouring through the open doorway. Dozens and dozens of people. Many were children.

  Everyone looked dazed and listless. No one said a word.

  As they moved further inside the space Eddo tried to assess the numbers. At least 200 people were jammed into the space, along with meager belonging
s. Backpacks, blankets, dishes and plastic bottles were strewn about. Toys. A child started to cry.

  “What the fuck,” Tomás said, his voice muffled by the balaclava. “What are all these kids doing here?”

  The colonel turned to a man sitting on a pallet with a young girl in his arms. “Why are these children here?”

  “She’s seven,” the man replied.

  There was movement at the back of the warehouse. A man holding a gun to the neck of a child approached. Even in the dim light the sharp features Luz had drawn were unmistakable.

  “We got a lot of hostages here,” the man said.

  The man was quite a bit taller than the child. Eddo had a clear head shot.

  He wondered if the army would back him up or cut and run.

  Chapter 48

  Carmelita came, as did Father Santiago. Everyone was shocked by Luz’s story of being robbed and shot while buying groceries in Mexico City. The holidays passed in a sad blur.

  A few days after New Year’s Luz went to the free clinic. The stitches itched terribly. Juan Pablo went with her and they waited three hours before Luz was seen. A young man picked inexpertly at the thread with a variety of scissors. When he was done the lips of the wound gaped and Luz was panting from the pain. He put some gauze and tape on it.

  By 6 January, el Dia de los Reyes, she had a raging fever and the incision was infected. Luz took an antibiotic and watched as Martina and Sophia moved the three king figures next to the Holy Family to complete the navidad scene set up on the cabinet in front of the picture of the Virgin.

  For Luz, the holiday was marked by despair. She had no way to get in touch with Eddo. Her cell phone was gone and she hadn’t memorized Tomás’s number. Her only hope was that Eddo would catch her attackers and find her cell phone. He’d key through the contact list, call Señora Velasquez, and leave a message.

  To make matters worse, Luz had lost all the little treasures from her glorious day with Eddo. The castoff clothes hadn’t been in the suitcase Hector brought to the hospital. She’d hidden Eddo’s torn note, the Hermes scarf and the tiny gold buttons in the Prada tote and now they were all gone, as if he’d never existed.

  The infection finally petered out at the end of January. Lupe helped her take off the last bandage and together they stared at the scar in the bathroom mirror.

  The stitches had clearly come out too early. The result was a jagged, lumpy weal as thick as Luz’s forefinger under her left breast. Much of the scar was sunken into the place where the rib had been, so that the surface was uneven. The skin around it was puckered and numb and Luz felt like a monster.

  Chapter 49

  Lorena was furious. Max had simply disappeared and everyone who’d worked on his staff had resigned. Hugo tried to find out where Max had gone but so far had turned up nothing. In the meantime, her campaign was out of money. It was outrageous to think that she was just months away from defeating Romero for the party nomination and she didn’t even have enough money for new shoes.

  Romero’s poll numbers went up five points just on the strength of her press statement canceling the first rally in Oaxaca. The political pundits hooted that she didn’t have the nerve to face Romero on his own territory and when she chided them they accused her of being shrill and defensive. The slogan “Lorena’s Your Sister” was still getting air time because Max had bought weeks worth of advertising in some places, but it didn’t seem to be making any difference.

  To make matters worse, her new assistant was a dolt and Ernesto Silvio had become a major annoyance. In fact, he’d been the one to hire Natividad, with Fernando’s blessing. Natividad had an impressive resume but frankly, the woman hadn’t any staff of her own, didn’t know anyone important and had little success in booking interviews and events. The fool didn’t seem to realize that Lorena was running for president.

  Silvio appeared at her office door as she dictated a letter to the editor of a magazine, disputing a laudatory article about Arturo Romero. “Señora, the president would like to see you in his office,” Silvio interrupted.

  “I am particularly busy right now,” Lorena said and swung her gaze to her secretary. “Natividad, is there time in my schedule to see the president today?”

  “Natividad, la señora will let you know when she comes back,” Silvio said.

  Natividad left the office, nodding at Silvio as she went. The bitch.

  Lorena stood up. “I’ll thank you not to--.”

  “Señora, the president is waiting.”

  Silvio followed her as Lorena stalked down to Fernando’s office. Really, this business with Silvio trying to push her around was going to end. Silvio opened the door and Lorena charged in, only to stop short at the sight of Hugo and that ancient relic Ignacio Fonseca Zelaya. Next to Fonseca were two men Lorena didn’t know: a younger man and a haughty looking aristocrat nearly as old as Fonseca.

  “Lorena, dear.” Fernando looked tense as he came around his desk and took her by the elbow. “You know Hugo and Ignacio, of course.”

  Lorena greeted Hugo as if they hadn’t fucked the afternoon away two weeks ago, giddy with champagne. She extended her hand and made the usual pleasantries to Fonseca as well. The man looked like dried beef in a suit.

  “This is Vasco Madeira Suiza from Ignacio’s office,” Fernando went on.

  Madeira Suiza was attractive in a smug sort of way. Lorena decided, with Hugo in the room, not to give him any of her special looks.

  “And senior governor of the Central Bank, Don César Bernal Paz.” Fernando introduced the other man. He was a man who wore his position in society on his immaculately tailored sleeve, just like Lorena’s own father.

  Fernando had them all sit down, including Silvio whom he asked to be notetaker. There was an enormous seal of Mexico behind Fernando’s desk, the eagle with the snake in its talons looking triumphant. Lorena shifted in her chair. She was going to have some wonderful portrait pictures taken next to that seal when she got to be president.

  “We can make this a relatively quick meeting,” Fernando said. “Ignacio has some news.”

  Fonseca cleared his throat. “Luis Yanez Luna, the head of the Financial Regulations Unit, was arrested this morning on charges of participating in an organized crime ring and laundering money through a fraudulent financial institution.”

  Lorena gave Fernando her annoyed but patient wife look. Why on earth had he made Silvio drag her here to listen to this? She didn’t know Luis Yanez Luna.

  “We felt that as his superior, Hugo,” Fonseca continued in his quavery old man’s voice. “You should be officially informed of this.”

  “Yes, yes of course,” Hugo said. He sounded nonplussed. “Thank you for telling me. This is most distressing.”

  Madeira Suiza handed something to Hugo. “The financial institution was called Banco Limitado. All the funds have been confiscated.”

  “The Central Bank has been able to trace the movement of funds in and out of this bank,” Fernando said. “This is why I’ve asked Don César to be here.”

  Bernal Paz looked as if he might have a stroke.

  Lorena saw Hugo’s face go blank and worry niggled at the back of her mind.

  “How,” Hugo began. He licked his lips. “Exactly how much was confiscated?”

  “Over 800 million pesos,” Madeira Suiza said. “From 16 different accounts.”

  Lorena darted another look at Hugo, the worry growing.

  “My office is actively searching for Yanez Luna’s accomplices,” Fonseca said.

  “Accomplices within the government,” Fernando said, as if correcting Fonseca.

  “I expect that you have sufficient evidence to indicate there were accomplices?” Hugo asked.

  “Yes,” said Madeira Suiza. He looked forcefully from Fonseca to Fernando as if he expected one of them to say something else.

  Bernal Paz gripped the arms of his chair but did not speak.

  Silvio cleared his throat.

  “The Attorney General’s
office is mainly concerned with the impact on government operations.” Fonseca made a small, vague gesture.

  “The arrest of one man should not precipitate the breakdown of the social order,” Fernando said primly. “We do not turn on each other like dogs. But of course a line must be drawn. Especially if it involves . . . indiscretions.”

  Lorena held her breath. She was in the audience, watching a sparsely-worded drama unfold on a stage. Surely the principal actors would not tear apart one of their own.

  “I cannot believe anyone of stature was involved,” Fonseca added. “Hopefully, my office can close the investigation . . . into government accomplices . . . very soon.”

  Hugo cleared his throat. “Fernando, I appreciate this information but I’d like to turn the conversation to a different issue.”

  Madeira Suiza slid to the edge of his chair, too intense to be handsome any more.

  Bernal Paz might have been stuffed, his body was so rigid.

  Fernando made a go-ahead gesture from behind his desk.

  “Graciela has not been well,” Hugo said. His face tightened in an expression of grief. “We’re going to see some specialists. Overseas.”

  Fernando looked sympathetic. “I’m sure I speak for everyone in offering my best wishes.”

  “Thank you, Fernando,” Hugo said. “But I’m afraid the situation has caused me to neglect my duties as minister.” He looked down and grief turned to remorse. “I should have caught this situation with Luis before Ignacio’s office was involved.”

  Fernando nodded. “What are you saying, Hugo?”

  “I offer you my resignation, effective immediately,” Hugo said. “I’ll give you a formal letter this afternoon. Graciela and I will be traveling out of the country shortly.”

  Madeira Suiza jumped to his feet and was pulled back down by Fonseca.

  “I accept your resignation,” Fernando said. He came around the side of his desk. “Send the letter by courier.”