Spiral

by David L Lindsey

  It was noon by the time everyone had met, settled around the refectory table in the library. While they ate a variety of sandwiches, cold cuts, and sliced fresh vegetables from platters in the center of the table, Haydon explained what Celia Moreno had been doing during the morning and suggested they begin by reading her notes, using them as a starting point for comparing information.

  Celia had spent her time well. She had typed out seven double-spaced pages of names whose relationships and duties within the tecos she explicated with two or three sentences. There were names of businesses and organizations as well as individuals. But very little of it dealt with the tecos de choque. Most of the information pertained to the part of the organization that showed its face to the public as a kind of nationalistic fraternity, housed and sponsored by the Autonomous University of Guadalajara. This was the face Dr. Ferretis had wanted her to see. His own involvement with the "enforcing" arm of the secret society had been off-limits to her.

  As they ate with one hand and passed the pages around the table with the other, Celia sat with her back to the terrace doors and watched them. She was subdued; the news of Ferretis's death coming on top of all the rest that had happened had disturbed her considerably. Haydon also suspected she had begun to draw some obvious conclusions about her own vulnerability.

  He sat at the end of the old table near his desk and watched her. There had been no time, nor had Haydon thought it safe, for her to return to her apartment for clothes, so she wore one of Nina's cream

  silk blouses and a cocoa-brown linen skirt. Celia was a little smaller than Nina, but she wore the slightly oversized clothes as if they were designed to be coolly loose-fitting. Most of the time her eyes were or Renata Islas.

  Renata sat directly across from Celia, reading the pages som berly, slowly, her dark Indian eyes floating along the lines. She ex eluded everyone from this process, and Haydon had the impressio that the names of the people and the streets in Guadalajara recreate a world for her that none of them could imagine, and that she mu: have found painful to relive. He remembered what she had said aboi hate, and wondered how that philosophy was affecting what she mu be feeling.

  Mitchell Garner sat next to Renata, leaning forward over tl table. He had removed his ballpoint pen from his pocket and w fiddling with it in his right hand, occasionally using it to put a chei mark by something he had read. He read quickly, always finishii before Renata passed him another page. As he waited, he ate 1 sandwich like a man familiar with having to juggle food and papi work, eating, drinking, and wiping his hands and mouth with 1 napkin without ever taking his eyes off the pages.

  Nina sat across from him, beside Celia. Haydon occasions could feel her eyes studying him.

  Finally everyone finished, and Celia shifted uneasily in chair.

  "All right," Haydon said. "We have to come up with leads, even one lead, no matter how remote."

  "I have a question," Renata said immediately, looking Haydon.

  He nodded. "Go ahead."

  "If you are correct," Renata said, looking across at Celia, " have confirmed our group's suspicions regarding the involvemer some of these businessmen. I was glad to see their names here, you tell me exactly how were they involved? This man, for instar she said, turning the page around and pointing to one of the na

  Celia nodded. "Well, do you know anything about the tea ganizational structure?"

  "Only a little," Renata answered. "But assume I know nothing. Explain everything."

  Celia looked at her. "Okay. The, uh, Brigade's also known Guadalajara as the Organization or the Movement, and it has a

  association with the university there. Most of the professors, administrators, and university officials are members, which is why the Movement is able to exist without restraint within the university system. There are roughly three levels in the Movement—the university staff I've just mentioned; the students, who really amount to little more than spies on other students, other professors, anyone and everyone; and the tecos de choque, who are the disciplinary arm of the Brigade. The university affiliation is only a legitimizing cover for them. On the university level, the Brigade operates kind of like an ROTC without uniforms, a secret organization everyone knows exists, but only those within it know anything about it.

  "When the Organization targets a student they want to recruit, he's approached. If he shows an interest, he's asked to fill out an 'application' for admission. This thing is incredible, a sixty-question document which warns the applicant at the beginning that he must answer all the questions honestly. If it's determined that he's answered falsely, or with duplicity, he must accept"—she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers—" 'the condemnation of God and the punishment that spies and traitors deserve.' "

  She paused and looked around the table. "I'm probably repeating some things you already know."

  Islas nodded, with a patient smile. "Yes, but please continue. In small ways, every story is different."

  Celia looked at her curiously, glanced at Haydon, and then went on. "The questions are detailed, about the ideological and personal lives of the student's parents, brothers and sisters, friends, girlfriend or wife, teachers, employer, neighbors. Everybody he knows. He's asked to provide these people's full names, addresses, telephone numbers, political orientation, all kinds of information. But above all, he's impressed with the idea that the interests of the Movement, the Brigade, are to become first in his life, even 'before filial respect and the unity of the family.'

  "In the weeks after the application is completed, the student undergoes two pretty extensive inquisitions directed by an 'examiner/ investigator.' They involve surprise visits to the student's home to talk to him and his family, who, in most cases, don't even know what's going on. They're checked out until the Brigade has this huge file on them, and that file is always available to the tecos. This man," she said, nodding to the name Renata had asked about, "and the ones listed above him and below him are examiner/investigators. "Often these men are themselves alumni of the university, ar were student tecos. The teco alumni group is strong, and their loyal to each other carries over into the business world as well as into po tics. After nearly five decades, you can imagine how they've managed to permeate every facet of the society there."

  "What's the point in all their data gathering?" Garner asked.

  "Leverage," Celia said. "See, this is a Gestapo-type mentali In their battle against communism, everyone who is not a teco suspect. If they ever want to pressure someone, or use them in a way, they've got the information that could help them to determ the best way to do that. Think of all the interconnections between families and individuals you could come across with this kind of data bank."

  "One of these men is in the insurance business," Renata said, "Another is a hospital administrator, another is in the truck business."

  "That's right. Most of them are professionals, at this level a way. When you get down to the tecos de choque, I get the impress they're not so picky about who they use. That part of the organ tion is made up of gangsters and paramilitary types. The other facets of the Brigade claim to know nothing of its existence. They shrug it off."

  Garner turned to Haydon. "Stuart, have you got that list board members of the corporation available?"

  Haydon reached around to his desk and got a piece of paper, which he handed to Garner.

  "When I saw this the other day, I recognized only two nan he said, looking at the list again. "It occurred to me that both of them were Mexico City residents, and both of them were lawyers."

  "May I see that, please?" Islas asked, leaning toward Garner. "These men formed this Teco Corporation?" she asked after a minute.

  "Right," Garner said. "Do you know any of them?"

  She looked at the list a little longer and then said, "Three."

  Garner was surprised. Haydon watched her.

  "The two with addresses in Guadalajara: one I know, on heard about. I've also heard about one of the men from Colima. They also
are lawyers." She shook her head slowly, staring at one of the names with an expression of disgust. "This one, I cannot believe it, was retained in 1982 by a man and woman who are members of our group. He represented them in an investigation into the disappearance of their son. He was never able to resolve even the most elementary questions in their case. Now I can see why."

  Garner looked at Moreno. "While you were down there, did you notice if lawyers were involved in the activities of the Brigade any more than any other profession?"

  "No, not particularly. In fact, I can only remember meeting one. At least, he was the only one introduced to me as a lawyer."

  "I've got a hunch," Garner said, "that these board members are 'cutouts'—lawyers hired to represent the interests of other men so their clients' names will not have to appear on a public document."

  "Mrs. Islas," Haydon said, "can you associate any names with those lawyers whose names you recognize? Have you ever heard of any of their clients, or businesses they represent? Any names connected with them in any way?"

  There was silence as Garner and Islas again studied the list of Teco Corporation officers.

  "Mitchell," Haydon said after a minute, "will you have information about them in your files? Is there some way you can look into these men's clients?"

  "I've never dealt with any of them," Garner said, "so I'd have to make some calls to acquaintances down there. But knowing how this group infiltrates Jaliscan society, I'm not sure I'd get any straight answers inquiring about the tecos themselves. If I could—"

  "Here!" Renata Islas suddenly put her finger on one of the names. "Here. This man . . . there is a connection here." She looked up at Haydon with an expression of triumph. "There is a connection here." She tapped her finger on the name and looked down at it. "This man, Mauricio Luquin Spota, is a lawyer with a firm that is very well known in Guadalajara. Hernan and Ramon Rivas. The Rivas brothers are society friends with a very large and old tapatio family headed by an elderly man named Apolinar Medrano Mallen. This Apolinar is an elegant old man with a very interesting history. He has three sons and three daughters. The middle son . . . yes, the middle one ... his name is Bias.

  Chapter 46

  RENATA herself seemed surprised to have made this connec They all had their eyes on her, waiting for her to elaborate, explain but she only sat looking at the name, her mouth set firmly.

  "Apolinar Medrano Mallen," she said finally, as if introducing him, "can trace his family history to the first settlers in the state of Jalisco in the middle of the sixteenth century. He is criollo, wi a single drop of Indian blood in the whole line of his family's Spanish heritage. That gives him a tremendous sense of station. The tapatio, which is a nickname for Guadalajarans, comes from Indian expression which means 'three times as worthy.' No believe that of themselves more sincerely than the wealth of Guadalajara, and none of them believe it more ferventl Apolinar Medrano. He is proud with the pride of a man wh to the history of his lineage and sees men of wealth and influence and power; and he is proud with his belief in the strength of his destiny, and that of his heirs. His Catholicism is every bit as the fanaticism we see in the Islamic world today. In every generation a Medrano daughter has denied herself and become a bride of Christ

  "Apolinar's father, Bias's grandfather, was one of the founders of the Autonomous University of Guadalajara in the late 1930s, as a young man Apolinar himself helped found the Nation? Party, known as PAN, in opposition to the Institutional Revolutionary Party. As the years went by and PAN adapted itself to the political winds, Apolinar always came down on the extreme was a founder of MURO, a fascist clique within the university of course, he was one of the founders of los tecos. He is and financial power who must be reckoned with by anyone' to deal with right-wing politics in Mexico."

  Renata stopped and took a drink of her iced tea.

  "What do you know about Bias himself?" Haydon asked.

  "Very little, but I know a woman who went to the university with him. These Medranos, they are like the Kennedy family used to be in the States. What they do and don't do is always a favorite topic of conversation. For instance, even though I don't know them personally myself, I know that the older brother is a lawyer in Mexico City, and that the younger brother operates one of the family businesses in Guadalajara. His two sisters are married to men who are also employed in the family empire. One in Mexico City, one in Colima. Their comings and goings are always in the papers. But about this Bias, I know nothing. Why is that? It makes me suspicious."

  "What's his full name?"

  "Bias Medrano Banda. His mother, Solana Banda, is also from a wealthy tapatio family. That is very important to them. Power begets power.

  Haydon pushed aside his plate, glanced at Garner, and addressed Renata.

  "You say you know a woman who was his classmate. Would she know any more about him than you? Could you trust her information?"

  "Yes, to both questions. She doesn't know the family well, but is close to people who do. She and Bias were in some of the same clubs in the university, and she had a couple of classes with him."

  "How old is he?" Garner asked.

  Renata thought a moment. "This woman is in her early thirties."

  "Can you call her?" Haydon asked. "Would you be able to get information from her?"

  "I think she would talk, yes. She has been quietly helpful to our group."

  Haydon stood, and walked around to Renata's chair. "Would you call her now?" he asked, pulling her chair out for her. "There's a telephone over here on the other side of the room. Handle your questions any way you wish. Use your own instincts. Find out as much about him as you can—his likes, dislikes, habits, appearance, history since leaving the university, his travels."

  "I understand," Renata said.

  "And a photograph. Would she have a photograph?"

  "I'll ask." Renata bent down beside her chair and picked up a briefcase. "I brought a Guadalajara telephone book. I thought we might need it."

  Haydon walked with her to the far side of the room, spoke with her a few minutes, and then came back to the table.

  "Stuart, how are you going to decide if this is the right man?" Nina asked, her voice lowered. "You can't publish his photograph in the media on a hunch."

  Haydon shook his head as he sat down. "I don't know. We'll see what she says." Haydon looked at Renata, who was already talking to someone in Spanish. He turned to Celia.

  "We're still not any closer than we were before. Did Valverdi ever mention any other safe houses, any other addresses or location besides the Belgrano on Chicon?"

  "No," she said. "Nothing. He said these men were professional' that they'd come in here, do the job, and get out without ever leavin a trace."

  "Well, they haven't quite done that," Haydon snapped. "Are you damn sure you're telling me everything?"

  Suddenly he was surprised to hear the strained, edgy tone of his own voice as if he were abruptly projected outside of his body, observing himself as if he were another person. He saw his forehead twisted in a censuring scowl, his upper body leaning into the table, his doubled fist resting beside the plate with the half-eaten sandwich. Celia stared back at him with a quivering chin, blinking quickly couple of times. He cut his eyes at Nina, who was looking at him as she were watching a pot about to boil over and hoping it wouldn't.

  Celia didn't answer him, perhaps she couldn't, and he said nothing else. He sat back in his chair and looked past Nina, outside beyond the French doors. The terrace was now catching the full glare of the midday sun, its stones seeming to drain of their color as they baked in the bleached light. Quickly absorbed in his own thoughts, he lost track of time.

  "Bueno," Renata said loudly, jolting Haydon back to the present. He turned around to find the others looking at her as she stood by the telephone, concentrating on jotting down a last-minute note.

  "We are in luck," she said firmly, walking over to them and pulling her chair away from the table to sit down. When she continued, she add
ressed Haydon.

  "My friend says that Bias was, indeed, a teco during his university days. In fact, by the time he had entered graduate school, his own abilities and his father's influence had enabled him to rise above Brigade's rowdy campus politics into a quieter, more influential role. She said that she had heard that while he was still in graduate school he began to travel to Mexico City quite frequently, and that he eventually married a girl from there. But the girl died shortly afterward, within a year. Sometime after that he was somewhere in the States for a while, a year or more, but she was not sure about this. Then there were rumors that he had become a mercenary in Central America, but none of the people who really knew him well believed there was any substance to that. During the last five or six years, though, she knows of no one who has seen or heard from him directly. Some believe he is again involved with the tecos and travels extensively for them. One person claims to know for sure that he was in France during the early eighties, and then more recently, in the last couple of years, they saw him in Tegucigalpa and Guatemala City."

  She looked at her notes, which she had taken in a stenographer's notebook, writing on both sides of each sheet. She turned several of these.

  "Let's see,... before the University of Guadalajara, he attended a Jesuit private school, and was very serious about his religious studies. Evidently he had wanted to go to a Catholic university too, but Apolinar was afraid he was going to ask to enter the priesthood and made him go to the state university."

  "What about his personality?" Haydon interrupted.

  "All right, uh, what is he like? Handsome, very handsome. Well read, intelligent. Not boisterous, but not a quiet person either. Very pleasant, very polite. She remembered he liked clothes. He dressed very well. About five feet nine or ten. He was well built, but was not an athlete. He was close to his mother, but had a very 'correct' relationship with his father. Apolinar tried to dominate all the sons, but Bias seems to have rebelled the least at his heavy-handedness. He was the one who tried most to conform to what his father wanted."