“I promise you, the Mexican government will do everything it can possibly do to guarantee your safety while you are in the United States, and will make you as secure and comfortable as possible upon your return to Mexico. I ask that you report to the nearest futbol stadium upon your return to Mexico. There, the Ministry of Internal Affairs will take down your personal information, conduct a medical examination, arrange for temporary shelter for transportation home.
“My friends and fellow Mexicans, I know you chose to leave your homeland to try to find a better life for yourselves and your family—that is the way of all hardworking Mexicans,” Fuerza said. “But after over a hundred years of hard work and struggle, is your life any better now than it was for your father or grandfather? Hispanics make up the majority of residents in California, but do we have any more rights than we did as mere aliens, migrants, or Chicanos? Our lives have not changed because we are treated the same as our forefathers were treated decades ago: at best as underpaid workers who should feel privileged to be allowed to work like virtual slaves; at worst as criminal trespassers who should be rounded up like cattle and dumped back across the border, no matter how hard we work.
“My brothers and sisters, I do not know what will happen to us when you leave your place of work and try to make your way back to Mexico,” Fuerza concluded. “But what I do know is that if we do nothing as a people to correct the injustices against us, our lot in life will never change. I want something better for my children and my future than to live in perpetual servitude to an ungrateful, uncaring, and increasingly hostile nation such as the United States of America has become. We cannot wait any longer for the Anglo politicians to act. We have the power to do something; we always have had it. Our labor has value, real value, not what the greedy slave labor capitalists give us. It is time the people of the United States of America realize this.
“I will continue to monitor both our government and the American government and media and report to you the progress we make during this historic movement, and I will do everything I can to make this transition as safe and as hopeful as possible. There will be sacrifice, let there be no doubt. But your sacrifice will be rewarded with a better life for you and a better future for your children. God bless the people, and God bless the United Mexican States.”
A few minutes after checking that the message had been successfully uplinked to TV Azteca studios in Mexico City, Fuerza sat silently, cueing up the digital recording of his message almost to the beginning. As he did so, he heard a commotion outside, and he unfastened the holster’s safety catch, but did not get up. Moments later a security guard opened the door to the office…
…and behind him walked the president of Mexico, Carmen Maravilloso. The president stopped dead in her tracks, shocked and surprised at what she saw—so shocked that she did not even notice Ministry of Internal Affairs deputy minister José Elvarez and two of his men already inside the room, all carrying small submachine guns under their suit jackets, along with a tall, large, imposing man in a long black leather overcoat, boots, and sunglasses seated in a corner of the office. Once inside, two agents departed while Elvarez stayed inside the office and guarded the door.
“You!” she exclaimed. She was so shocked at seeing the infamous Comandante Veracruz before her that she hardly noticed herself being led into the room, the door closed and locked behind her. Her voice was not angry or upset, just surprised—in fact, rather pleasantly surprised. She heard herself say, “I have wanted to meet you for some time, señor, but it is not yet safe for you. What are you doing here?”
“Issuing more instructions to the faithful patriots of Mexico, Madam President,” Fuerza said. He started the recording and let her listen to it; when he saw that she was getting ready to explode with indignation and anger, he stopped the tape. “You agree with my sentiments, do you not, Madam President?”
“You have no right to speak for the government, señor,” Maravilloso said worriedly. “What kind of plan is this? Tell our people to just leave? Thousands, perhaps millions of people will be homeless and penniless. They will be targets of racists and xenophobes, not to mention the American immigration authorities, who will round up and detain everyone heading south.”
“I am hoping that is exactly what they try to do,” Fuerza said. “They will quickly be overwhelmed and will commence mass deportations…”
“Which we will then have to absorb,” Maravilloso said. “Once they are no longer America’s problem, the issue will evaporate.”
“Except for the thousands of American employers, farmers, and households who will be screaming for the return of their cheap laborers,” Fuerza said. “Trust me, Madam President: the American government will be calling you in no time, wishing to issue a joint statement promising immigration simplification, a relaxation of immigrant worker rules, greatly increased allocations of work visas, better pay for immigrant workers, and a host of other reforms.”
“You sound very well informed and very sure of yourself—for a drug and weapon smuggler,” Maravilloso said. She stepped closer to Fuerza, studying him carefully. “Who are you really, señor?” she asked. “Obviously you wear a disguise, and I would even guess that you are not injured and your bandages are part of your disguise.”
Fuerza stood and approached the president. She did not want to show any fear, but she glanced over to be sure the men of the Political Police were nearby and ready to protect her. “You are indeed a very beautiful woman, Madam President,” he said.
“Gracias, Comandante,” she responded. She looked deeply into Fuerza’s uncovered eye, shaking from both fear and delight at the same time. “I…I think you are a great man, a true inspiration to the people of Mexico. But your words are dangerous, señor. Won’t you consider changing that recording?”
“I can deny you nothing, Madam President…”
“Carmen. Please call me Carmen, señor.”
“Carmen. Your name is as beautiful and as powerful as the woman herself.” He stepped closer. His first touch was electrifying, but his kiss was a million-volt charge running up and down her spine. The fear was still there, but his passion, his fire, was like a narcotic, rushing through her…
And then she froze, opened her eyes, and saw Fuerza smiling at her, and he saw the realization dawn in her eyes—she knew that she had willingly fallen into a trap she had suspected was there all along. Her lips curled into a snarl, her eyes blazed with white-hot anger, and her fingers became claws, tearing away at the bandages covering his face.
“This is why I love you so much, Carmen,” Minister of Internal Affairs Felix Díaz said, grasping her wrists. “You are so fiery, so passionate—and so damned predictable.” He pushed her away roughly, right into the arms of two Political Police Sombras agents behind her, who held her arms tightly. Díaz removed his bandanna and started to undo the bandages on his face. “You made it so easy for me to execute my plan.”
“I knew it, Díaz,” she snapped, struggling to regain her composure and regain the upper hand here. “I always knew it! You were too nice to be a politician, and I was too blind or too stupid to notice.”