“Aha… yes, Carlos, my father says the communists—” said one his lady friends, but he ignored her:
“Look, our businessmen earn money and, instead of reinvesting in Peru, they send it to a bank in Switzerland or the USA. It’s the Americans and Europeans who are investing here. They believe in our country more than we do. That’s why I admire them. Our Indian peasants and miners should learn from them, not from the damn Russian communists.”
Carlos opened his arms, like a peacock proudly displaying his open tail feathers, and continued, “And what’s more, we’re always hearing poor Indian peasant women complaining their husbands waste their money on drink and other women instead of bringing it home to their families – that’s why they’re poor.”
“Umm… that’s far too simple, Carlos. There are many reasons why people are poor… and can’t get out of poverty,” said John.
“Well, my grandfather arrived from Europe with nothing. He worked hard, my father worked hard and I’m working hard. Life is tough. Nobody’s given us anything. If the communists take over, we’ll lose everything we’ve worked for. I respect rich people. I know that not everyone has earned his money honestly, but I prefer the rich to poor people who want a share of other people’s wealth. If they want to be wealthy, they should work hard like my family. That’s what I believe,” said Carlos.
“I’m glad Peru has given your family the opportunity…” said John, as Carlos ignored him and continued:
“And we need a government that protects people’s property, businesses and savings. If not, everyone will send their money abroad. And, then, who will provide jobs to all these people arriving from the provinces?”
“Okay, I can agree with that” said John, but Carlos was too elated to listen, as he concluded:
“I love my country and, one day, I’d like to be a government minister or, why not, even president, and make my grandfather proud of me,” said Carlos, as his young girlfriends looked at him in awe.
Yes, Carlos surely had delusions of grandeur. However, John couldn’t believe that, in his dreams, he’d seen Carlos in the company of the devil’s servants.
Anyway, perhaps Carlos could help him fulfil the mission Father Joseph had entrusted him of denouncing diabolical deeds. Well, Carlos did seem to know some evil doers. Let’s not get carried away with interpreting dreams, but perhaps Carlos could help John to pursue his Christian mission of denouncing evil in The Washington Post.
So, the following day he visited Carlos at La Nación. John couldn’t reveal he was, in effect, a competing journalist after a scoop – Father Joseph would call it: revealing fiendish stories – for The Post.
“Carlos, apart from working for the Kemmerer mission, I’ve been reporting on Peru’s political prospects to foreigners thinking of investing in Peru.”
As Carlos nodded, John was relieved he was towing along with the yarn he was spinning. He wasn’t really lying: he had been reporting to Mr Randall.
“You see, they’re worried about what will happen after the elections. Will the new president protect and, let’s say, support these investors? Carlos, you understand: will they lose their money?” said John.
Carlos assented and smiled. He got up, walked to the door, peeped into the empty corridor and closed the door, keeping eavesdroppers out.
“John, those investors don’t need to worry,” said Carlos. Why was he so sure? John had to continue spinning his yarn: opening his eyes wide and raising his eyebrows. Come on, Carlos, tell me more. This sounds encouraging.
“Umm… you can be sure Sánchez-Cerro will win the elections,” said Carlos with a mischievous grin.
“But how can you be so sure?”
“We’ve got everything arranged.”
“We?” John stared at Carlos, who walked to the window, taking his time to reply.
“John, we need your foreign investors. Tell them not to worry, but you can’t reveal what I’m about to say.”
Oh, hell, thought John – he’s about to spill confidential information but I can’t tell. Alright, let’s hear it anyway and decide later if I can keep it to myself. Come on Carlos, tell me.
“Sánchez-Cerro will make a good president but…” Carlos hesitated. But what, thought John.
“But he won’t be taking all the decisions.” Carlos enjoyed John’s mystified look. What’s this leading to, thought John: the cat has stolen the dog’s dish, but the dog is too stupid to have noticed?
“John, have you met, Dr Flores?”
“Flores? Luis Flores?” Carlos nodded and John continued, “Yeah, I met him at a press conference. What about him? Is he some sort of secretary to Sánchez-Cerro?”
Carlos smiled and shook his head. “Not his secretary, John. Let’s see, Sánchez-Cerro is the president. Well, he’ll be president after these elections. He’s very popular, he’s a strong personality… but he’s only a soldier.”
“Only a soldier?”
“You see, John. Peru’s had many angry army officers marching out of their barracks and sitting in the president’s chair. But how long have they lasted? A year; a few months; only days? This time it will be different. Dr Flores has created Unión Revolucionaria.”
“So what?” said John, encouraging Carlos to reveal more.
“People will vote for Sánchez-Cerro but we will run the country.”
“We? Who are ‘we’?”
“Unión Revolucionaria, John. UR is Dr Flores’ creation.”
Was that it – a silly political party? But it was only a name behind Sánchez-Cerro; giving substance to a charismatic leader who really had little new to offer. Carlos smiled at John’s puzzled expression.
“Sánchez-Cerro will be president but Dr Flores will, as you Americans say, call the shots,” said Carlos. Come on, man, what are talking about? Flores is nobody, thought John. Carlos continued.
“Dr Flores will make sure we get the new regime, I mean, the new laws approved. You know, passed by Congress. Dr Flores will be the one making sure those APRA… those communists, don’t get in our way. John, we’re going to change Peru forever. Nobody can stop us. Sánchez-Cerro is useful to us at the moment, but once Unión Revolucionaria is in power we don’t really need him,” said Carlos.
Come on, thought John, I need to goad Carlos to reveal a bit more, “But, Carlos, what are you talking about? Unión Revolucionaria is nothing without Sánchez-Cerro.”
“You’re wrong, John,” said Carlos, leaning forward, “we have a plan. First, we eliminate the political opposition. Haya and his APRA sect of fanatics will never accept our victory. They’ll demonstrate, break the law and we’ll lock them up or deport them.”
Carlos looked serious. Perhaps he was offended by John belittling Unión Revolucionaria. Everyone would soon find out that Unión Revolucionaria was a force that was here to stay, was what Carlos was thinking. Good, thought John, now he’s starting to spill the juicy information.
“The next stage will be to control the army. We’ve got a list of army officers who support us. Those who are not with us will be removed. We cannot have any soldier interfering with our plan. If an officer wants a career beyond, say, lieutenant, he’ll first have to become a member of Unión Revolucionaria. UR won’t allow any more army officers plotting against the government.” John listened in silence.
“After that, it’s easy – police, judges, government employees, journalists, even teachers; almost anyone in the professions will have to be a member of UR to keep their jobs. We’ll give people a chance, but if they stand in our way, we’ll replace them. They must understand the changes we’re planning for our beloved Peru are too important. The fatherland must eliminate any obstacles to achieving its glorious destiny,” said Carlos, mutating into a zealot.
Carlos saw John’s shocked look. Had he said too much? Perhaps he’d better try to be more conciliatory, he seemed to be thinking.
Carlos sat back in his chair, illuminated by a religious fervour, as if the messiah were about to arrive. But now he was looking at John, speechless in front of him. Perhaps he’d scared him: John could report something unwanted to his foreign investors. Maybe he’d better try, one last time, to get John on his side.
“John, tell your friends their investments are safe in Peru. We need businesses to flourish, to create jobs. We’re not going to take over mines, factories, haciendas or banks like those APRA communists would do. Don’t worry, we’ll stop them. We’ll eliminate them,” said Carlos, beating his fist on his desk.
“Look at Italy – it was the heart of the glorious Roman Empire; the civilised world in its time. Then, Italy fell into centuries of decay. Now, El Duce, Benito Mussolini will bring back the greatness of the Roman Empire to Italy. So, why can’t we bring back the greatness of the Inca Empire to Peru?” said Carlos smiling.
The Roman Empire. El Duce. Mussolini. The Inca Empire. Carlos was saying that Sánchez-Cerro could be Peru’s Mussolini. No. Wait a moment. Carlos had said Sánchez-Cerro wouldn’t be needed after UR had taken power. So, who? Flores? Damn it, Carlos was hinting Flores would become Peru’s leader, its Mussolini.
“John, you promised. All this will be revealed when the time comes. For now, just tell your foreign investors not to worry. Everything will be alright. Their money is safe,” said Carlos, as he lit another cigar.
Chapter 18
Finally, the long-awaited day of the presidential elections arrived. Sunday 11th October, 1931, was a beautiful, warm spring day in Lima.
Limeños woke up to find their city secured by the police and the army. A policeman on every corner, with trucks full of police or soldiers discreetly parked down quieter side streets. The provisional junta of President Samanez wouldn’t allow any street confrontations nor electoral fraud. Compared to the past, many considered these as the first democratic elections in Peru’s history and the new president had to be accepted by the population.
For John, it felt like a festive day, if it weren’t for the country’s future being at stake, like never before. The sight of heavily armed security forces gave him a shiver down his spine, but the day went by in calm. Police chatted amiably to pedestrians – some even made passes at pretty girls.
As John took a long walk around the city, crossing main squares, down busier streets, visiting polling stations, he struggled to think of anything interesting to report to The Washington Post. If anything abnormal altered the course of the elections – as in the past – he was determined to denounce it through The Post.
But the only remarkable news was that Haya had survived not one, but two aircraft accidents in the days before the elections. But this wouldn’t make a headline in The Post. He had to find a story – perhaps Carlos at La Nación would leak some interesting story brewing.
“Relax, John. Nothing will happen for a few days. First, we’ll hear the results for Lima and Callao, but parts of the Andes and the Amazon jungle are so isolated their results will take another week or two.”
So much in the balance and you’re so calm, thought John as he joined Carlos and his colleagues for a drink in their offices.
John looked at Carlos, laughing and chatting about anything but politics, and thought of Unión Revolucionaria’s grand plan he’d revealed to him. Carlos was so relaxed that John sensed something was wrong. John listened carefully and scrutinised everyone. What would UR do to ensure Sánchez-Cerro won the elections? He had to find out.
Nothing. Nothing happened the first few days after voting. John had to send something to The Post. His boss was under pressure – the telegram from Buenos Aires was short and clear, “Washington must publish Peru elections news. Stop. Deadline tomorrow. Stop.”
Tomorrow. Five days since voting and the first results in Lima had given Sánchez-Cerro a slender lead over Haya. But that had been expected – Lima was not one of Haya’s strongholds. When results came in from the north, APRA’s heartland, things would improve for Haya.
Overnight, the radio announced encouraging results for Haya. When he woke up, John rushed to buy a copy of La Nación. And there it was – the news John had been awaiting. Even La Nación, unashamed supporters of Sánchez-Cerro, couldn’t hide the truth: Haya was ahead. John had to find La Industria, the leading newspaper in Trujillo and, of course, APRA supporters. Yes, not only did they confirm Haya was ahead but declared him the winner.
As John turned away from the newspaper kiosk in Plaza San Martin, a crowd gathered. Who were they? The square was filling up with APRA supporters – chanting Haya’s name and rejoicing. At least they thought Haya would be president. No time to waste – get the news off to The Washington Post. His deadline was today and he had the story he needed.
After sending his report, John sighed and sat down in Hostal Zapata for a stiff drink. He needed it. These tight journalistic deadlines were preying on his nerves. Pedro came in and joined John, joking as he imagined Carlos distraught at the prospect of Sánchez-Cerro losing the elections.
John couldn’t reveal to Pedro his conversation with Carlos, so sure about Sánchez-Cerro winning the elections, nor what a terrifying Unión Revolucionaria regime would be like. But it appeared Carlos had been wrong – there would be no Sánchez-Cerro victory and Carlos’ beloved Dr Flores wouldn’t see his plans, or dreams, come true. What a relief that would be.
But Pedro was mistaken. Carlos wasn’t distraught at all. When John went into his office, Carlos was calm and even smiled. John was told he’d be surprised – things would change in the coming days.
In his report to The Post, John hadn’t assumed APRA supporters’ foregone conclusion of victory. He’d cautiously mentioned Haya was ahead, that this was a surprise at this stage, and many Peruvians were already speculating about what Haya would do if he became president.
The following day brought more surprises. Nearly all the results favoured Sánchez-Cerro. Hardly anything went Haya’s way. And what about the other two candidates, Arturo Osores and José-María de la Jara, who between them so far had accounted for about 20% of votes? Well, their votes almost dried up. How was that possible? Rumour had it their votes were being allocated to Sánchez-Cerro. Not only that but some ballot boxes that had been, let’s say, mislaid, finally appeared, with results favouring Sánchez-Cerro. Some ballot boxes had a larger number of votes than the registered number of voters. In the northern APRA stronghold of Cajamarca, the election results were declared void. Could those votes have tipped the results in Haya’s favour? Some irregularities were to be expected in elections, but would they determine the final outcome?
Rumours and more rumours, but major disputed incidents – best not call them cheating as there was no proof – favoured Sánchez-Cerro. Junta President Samanez had promised to deliver fair elections: what would the old man be thinking now?
Indeed, what now? Many APRA supporters saw Victor-Raúl Haya as a messiah. And messiahs don’t lose elections.
John decided to visit Carolina de Piérola – in the entourage of her godfather: Junta President David Samanez – she’s bound to know what’s going on, he thought.
“They’ve been complaints about fraud. Is Mr Samanez cancelling the elections?” asked John.
As they sipped coffee ne
ar her office, Carolina shook her head and chose to be cautious – aware that John reported to The Washington Post:
“For the first time, the National Electoral Committee is independent of the government: they’ll decide if any cases of fraud merit cancelling the elections.”
“Umm… but the Committee declared invalid the Cajamarca region results: they represent more than 8% of total voters, and I hear they’re mostly APRA voters… what does Mr Samanez say about that?” insisted John.
“If the Committee declared Cajamarca’s results invalid, they must have strong reasons. John, I know my godfather: you can trust he’ll ensure the elections are as fair as possible,” said Carolina.
John nodded but knew he wasn’t going to get anything more out of Carolina: discreet and professional, but also loyal to her godfather.
A long six weeks after the elections, the Samanez junta finally declared the results valid: Sánchez-Cerro would be president.
Alone in his office, Lieutenant Colonel Jiménez wondered if they’d made the right decision. But the alternative would’ve been civil war.
The official results were that Sánchez-Cerro had won with only 38% of the total electorate voting for him, and Haya came second with 27%. But 24% of voters were said to have abstained or their votes declared invalid.
John tried to analyse the results for The Washington Post – not easy to explain. Also, if what Carlos Medelius had confided came to pass, Peru would soon come under the grip of a totalitarian regime on the strength of a debatable election result. That would make an amazing story for The Post. But, not only had John promised Carlos to keep the secret; who would believe such an incredible story? It was only that: a story.
The story John, and everyone, waited for was the reaction of APRA’s leader – Haya wouldn’t bite his tongue. And he didn’t. When he came on the radio, John was ready to relay every word to The Post’s readers:
The Titans of the Pacific Page 22
