Chapter 12
The ETA in Mexico
Anton found new friends when he arrived in Mexico. The ETA has a well-coordinated infrastructure in several South American countries including Nicaragua, Venezuela, El Salvador, Uruguay and Cuba. They are strongest in Mexico where there is a movement to establish an autonomous “Basque-like” region in the Mexican State of Chiapas.
The Mexico ETA is centered in Mexico City where Anton soon became an integral member of a terrorist cell specializing in kidnapping and extortion. After a few months he was sent to a camp in Managua where he trained with the Sandinistas and El Salvador’s FMLN. Upon graduation, Anton was provided a list, pictures and a short biography of 12 businessmen living or working in Mexico City that the group considered “prime targets.” Jim Simpson was the 4th name on the list.
Carlos was 16 and seeded 6th in the European junior championships 18-and-under age bracket. The winner receives an automatic entry into next month’s French Open tennis tournament. There were three Swedes, a Frenchman and an Italian seeded higher.
The tournament was held in Paris, on the outer courts of Roland Garros Stadium. Carlos was from a small town and had never been to Barcelona, much less Paris. He looked forward to seeing the city at night. Their hotel was near the tennis center on the outskirts of Paris, but Marta is a great subway system. The four Spaniards set their sights on Friday evening.
Carlos breezed into the semis without losing a set and was scheduled to play the Italian at 9:00 AM, Saturday morning, with a doubles match to follow. Carlos was the only Spaniard boy remaining in Singles or Doubles.
Curfew was 10:00 PM and the three boys were in their room apparently asleep when Fritz did his bed check. Forty-five minutes later the boys caught the subway and by 11:15 they got off at the Latin Quarter station across the Seine from Notre Dame Cathedral.
The view was breathtaking but was lost on the teenagers. It was Friday night and the Quarter was hopping. They crossed the open square past the many brasseries and headed into the labyrinth of small alleys and streets that make up the Latin Quarter. Carlos had never seen so many good-looking women.
The other boys were 17 and 18 and more experienced, but Carlos looked older than 16. He soon learned that Paris women liked him. He was already over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and shoulder length hair. Deep green eyes offset his dark, tanned complexion. The other boys made the first moves, but soon learned that the girls wanted Carlos. At 12:30 Carlos lost his virginity in an alleyway to a 19-year-old French girl named Alexis.
At 1:30 they met two American girls who invited the three friends to their hotel room in the Quarter. The other boys wisely said no and headed home, but Carlos decided to stay. The next morning he woke up with a bad headache and a naked girl on either side. “Where am I?” he thought. He remembered only tiny fragments of how he got here; his friends leaving, the walk down the narrow alley, the tiny lift that pressed him against the two girls, and smoking something the girls gave him in the room. Carlos remembered telling the girls that he didn’t smoke, but they just laughed.
He sat up and saw the clock said 9:45 AM and it suddenly dawned on him that he had forfeited his semi-final singles match. He might be able to make the doubles match if he hurried.
That thought disappeared when Melanie rolled over and put her hand between his legs. “Come here, Carlos, I want you first this time.” Carlos learned that there really could be too much of a good thing, particularly when you have a hangover. When Melanie was sated, Cynthia took her turn.
Finally Carlos called a halt. “Girls, I need something for this headache and I need to make a call. May I use this phone?”
After gulping down three Excedrin, Carlos called Fritz’ cell phone.
“This is Fritz.”
“Fritz, Carlos.”
“Where in the hell are you, are you okay? The other boys said you wandered off and they couldn’t find you. What happened?”
“I’m okay. Somebody must have slipped me a pill or something, because I woke up in this alley about an hour ago. I have a headache, but I’ll be okay.”
“Is that a shower I hear in the background?”
“This married couple found me and let me use their place to shower and clean up. He is going to drive me to the Marta station and show me how to get back.”
“I’m glad you’re okay, but we need to talk. You really blew it this week. You realize the winner here gets an automatic entry into the main draw of the French Open.”
Carlos finally started realizing what he had done. “I’m sorry, Fritz.”
The girls were laughing at him when he hung up. “That’s quite a story you made up Carlos, we think you deserve a reward.”
Three hours later Carlos arrived back at the hotel and headed for his room. His headache was back and he badly needed sleep. The temporary euphoria he felt from the funny cigarettes the girls had given him was starting to wear off.
Fritz was waiting for him, but took one look at Carlos and walked away without saying a word.
Sunday, Carlos had nothing to do but roam the courts and think of what could have been. The boy’s finals weren’t scheduled to begin for another hour so Carlos wandered over to watch the girls’ championship match. The 15-year old French girl that was thrashing her opponent immediately captivated him. She not only was good, but she was beautiful.
Match point was a powerful overhead from the service line that put an exclamation on the 6-1, 6-2 drubbing. She threw her racquet high into the air and waved to the large, partisan crowd. The 500 French fans went wild. It’s been a long time since they had a French-born tennis player that was this good.
Carlos needed to meet this girl and waited by the gate. “Excuse me, Miss, but I wanted to congratulate you. You’ve got game.”
She looked up at the handsome boy and immediately reverted from the confident champion that just won the European Junior Championship, to a 15-year old girl that just met the boy of her dreams. “Ah, thank you,” she managed to utter. “Did you play?”
“I lost in the semis,” Carlos replied without elaborating. “I’m Carlos, what do they call you?”
“Ambre.”
“Maybe we can hit some time?”
“Any time,” Ambre replied as her coach and trainer pulled her away.
“That’s the kid that got drugged up in Paris Friday night and never showed for his semifinal match. Stay away from him. He’s bad news.”
Ambre turned and found Carlos still watching her. She gave him a smile. So that’s the guy everyone is talking about. He is quite a player from what I hear and he sure is good looking.
The grand opening of the Mexico City stadium was scheduled for a week from Saturday. Jim and Mary were scheduled to get in Friday night for the VIP party hosted by Mexico’s President. Ken and Marco were also invited.
“Jim, Chris Lewis is on the phone,” Grace announced. “It’s so good to hear from her again.”
“Chris, is it really you? To what do I owe this honor? It’s been awhile.” Jim was trying to remember the last time they had spoken; three or four months at least. It had been almost two years since she had broken off her engagement with Ken. Chris quit her job with the DEA to accept a position with an International Consulting Firm and was doing a lot of traveling to Europe. There were unsubstantiated rumors that her new job was a cover and Chris was still a government employee.
“I know, Jim, but I’ve been so busy and, well, you know, it’s still a little awkward with Ken. Is he doing okay?”
“Yeah, he seems to be doing fine. Business is good and his golf game is better than ever. I can’t comment on his love life because no one could replace you. I think he is considering the priesthood.”
“That’s not the Ken I knew and loved. Listen, Jim, there is something I need to talk with you about. I’m in town and could be over in a half-hour. Is that convenient?”
“Come on over, Chris. It will be great to see you. I love
mysteries.”
“Okay, see you in 30 minutes.”
“What could she want?” I asked Ken. I had walked over to Ken’s office to warn him that Chris was on the way over. Surprises weren’t good when someone was still carrying a torch.
“I have no idea, but it probably has something to do with her work. I think she is still some kind of spook. We’ll find out soon enough.”
“Do you mind hanging around in case you are needed?”
“Sure, why not. It will be good to see her again,” he said without conviction.
It was less than four years ago that I had hired Chris to work with Ken on the Cabo casino project. She was fresh out of Harvard Business School with little business experience, but it was obvious from day one that she would fit in. Not only was she smart and fluent in Spanish and French, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Tall with short black hair and a slim, athletic figure, she could easily have gotten by on her looks alone, but didn’t. I knew from the first day that she had a great future. Little did I know at the time that she moonlighted as an undercover DEA agent and was using our company as a way to get closer to Mario and his Miami drug ring. Chris managed to perform both jobs well and in her spare time, fall in love with Ken. Despite her motives, she had been a great hire,
Chris showed up five minutes early accompanied by two men. She was all business as I led them into my office. “May we close the door” Chris asked as her partner closed the door. “This is Special Agent Fred Reese and Special Agent Ray Barlow with the CIA. As you might know, I’m not with the DEA anymore.” We shook hands all around.
“It’s that traffic ticket, isn’t it? I told Mary to pay it.”
“Jim,” she admonished, “just listen to what Ray and Fred have to say.”
“Have you ever heard of the ETA, Jim?” Ray asked.
“I think so. Aren’t they some kind of terrorist group over in Europe? I also happen to know that they have a strong presence in Mexico and South America”
“That’s accurate, Jim. They’re most known for being the terrorist wing of the Basque Separatist movement that wants an autonomous country covering parts of Northern Spain and a little bit of France. What isn’t widely known is that they are stronger in Mexico and Central America than they are in Spain.”
“And this has something to do with me, or if I can guess, the Mexico City stadium project?”
“Both,” Fred interjected. “We have reason to believe they will try something to disrupt the opening ceremonies next weekend. In addition, Ray just received evidence that you may be targeted by a kidnapping ring during your visit.”
“Did you put a contract out on me, Chris?” I joked, trying to absorb what they had said.
Chris remained silent. She knew I was stalling as I tried to assimilate what they had just told me. It’s not every day that a person receives this kind of news.
“Okay, can you tell me what you have? I’m still finding this hard to believe. And Chris, can we get Ken in here. He is going with me to the grand opening ceremony next week.”
‘Sure, that will be fine.”
I buzzed Ken’s office. “Ken, come on in here for a minute. You need to hear this.”
“Chris,” Ken said as he took a seat.
“Good morning Ken,” Chris replied as she greeted Ken and introduced her associates before quickly recapping the conversation.
“Wow,” was all Ken said.
Ray laid out the information the CIA had collected. The agency had intercepted several cell phone conversations between suspected terrorists alluding to a major event coming soon and last week intercepted a truckload of explosives on route to Mexico City. The truck driver is a known member of an ETA cell group.
“The evidence that they are targeting the sports arena is circumstantial, but compelling,” Chris added.
Fred’s evidence about the possible kidnapping was less circumstantial. He handed me an envelope. “Recognize anyone?”
I opened the envelope and saw my picture and a short bio. I also saw a list with my name circled and a date written in the margin. “That’s a week from Saturday,” I said as I handed Ken the envelope. I recognized a couple other names on the list. “Why me? These other guys on the list have a lot more money than I do.”
“You know why, Jim. This project is controversial, particularly since an American company is building the stadium. That makes it a perfect target for the ETA, particularly when they are talking some nonsense about an autonomous government in four or five Mexican States.”
“It’s nonsense, but this grand opening next Saturday ties right into their rhetoric,” Fred added. “It would be tremendous boost to their cause if they could disrupt the ceremony and hold the president of the American firm for ransom. It makes perfect sense from their perspective.”
“What do you suggest we do? I certainly don’t want to take Mary along although she will be disappointed.”
“We can’t force you to do anything, Jim, but we are asking you to proceed as normal. If Mary doesn’t go, they might be suspicious. Believe me, we will do everything we can to ensure your safety. We are also going to need to do a complete background check on your entire construction crew. It’s possible they have someone on the inside.”
“Bait?” I thought to myself.
“Chris, did you say you would do anything to ensure Jim’s safety?” Ken asked with a straight face.
“That’s what I said, Ken,” Chris answered hesitantly. She knew Ken well enough to see he had something on his mind.
“Okay, then you should agree to be my date for the weekend. You can ride in the car with Jim and me and take care of him at the party, without raising any suspicion.”
“But …” Chris started as she tried to escape the trap.
“It’s perfect,” Fred said.
“What a great idea,” Ray agreed.
I couldn’t help it and started to laugh and was soon joined by Ken. Chris managed a smile. Fred and Ray were clueless.
13
Grand Opening