And so Rafael Celeste became Isabel’s client. Within days he transferred his $10 million account to Aragon. Two months later, after Rafael had enjoyed a nice profit on his investment, Isabel finally kept her studio date. Rafael proudly introduced Isabel to other members of the cast and staff. She left with the likelihood of adding three more accounts.
These sales were quickly followed by more in Los Angeles: Gerard Daniels, a wealthy Los Angeles land developer, arranged through his son, a business school classmate of Isabel’s; Wiley Corcoran, a movie producer she met at a Beverly Hills party, James Richards, a young computer hardware engineer, newly rich from the sale of his networking startup. Los Angeles was proving to be virgin territory for investments in Mexico, with distinct tax advantages, arranged by this charming lady representing a multibillion dollar old-line financial behemoth.
Contrary to Miguel’s concerns that Isabel’s gender would be a handicap in Latin countries, it was a major asset. Doors opened more easily for her than for her male competitors. Male resistance tends to melt readily in the presence of attractive women. Once in, her impressive knowledge, ideas and business savvy most often kept her there.
Isabel loved the freedom of the road, the challenge of the chase, the unpredictability of each new destination. Her first road romance was with Caesar Rosario, an executive with Cortez Agricola, one of Brazil’s leading vendors of agricultural equipment. They met at a Ministry of Agriculture reception in Sao Paolo. Isabel had just signed a new account with an equipment dealer who suggested they celebrate at the ministry party. Introductions were made with Rosario, elegant and appealing in his red blazer, stark white open-necked shirt contrasting with his dark skin, jet-black hair, trimmed Van Dyke, and happy eyes.
“Señora Aragon, my respects,” said Rosario, bowing slightly as they were introduced.
She extended her hand, and a warm smile in greeting.
“Will you be with us in Brazil for long?”
“I’m planning to leave in two days. Sao Paulo is so beautiful. I wish I could stay longer and see more of it.”
“Please don’t think it forward of me. But I so much enjoy showing our city to guests. If you are free tomorrow, I would be at your service as your guide and driver.”
Isabel steered clear of romantic involvement with coworkers, clients, or anyone she felt might compromise her business activities. Rosario was a midlevel sales executive with a good income, but, as she quickly learned, a bank account level well below her minimum targets. That made him maximally attractive. She also quickly learned the Rosario was a lot of fun to be with.
Isabel had planned to leave Sao Paulo in two days, but for no particular reason. Her calendar was clear for the next week. Lunch with Caesar was delightful. His tour of the city was that of a practiced and entertaining enthusiast. By evening she had cancelled her flight to let Caesar teach her how to tango. She stayed for three more days. The affair lasted four months. It was the first of many during her five years traveling through Central and South America. Five years in which she became a wealth management superstar for Groupo Aragon.
In her sixth year with the company, Papa Miguel suggested that it was time for Isabel to learn other aspects of the business. Mergers and acquisitions, like wealth management, existed in its own business universe, one deal at a time, with changing players. For Miguel, here was another opportunity to place Isabel in a role that did not involve direct participation in Groupo Aragon’s ongoing business lines. Her first test would be in Chile. For years Miguel had been trying to get a foothold into Chile’s financial markets. Now he had indications that Banco Temuco, a midlevel regional bank could be available.
Isabel flew home to Los Angeles to spend long hours with her father studying the banking business. Then she was in Mexico City, camped out with executives of Credit Aragon. Finally, she felt ready. Isabel rented an apartment in the city of Temuco, about 400 miles south of Santiago. There she disappeared for days into local libraries and museums, familiarizing herself with local history and Mapuche ethnic culture. The Mapuches, she learned, were among the few indigenous South American peoples who successfully resisted the Spanish conquest. Now Isabel, an Aragon, had arrived to attempt a takeover of their financial system.
Isabel moved in slowly, meeting key players, identifying those who would be decision makers, learning their interests, their strengths, their weaknesses. Through one careful step after another, she prepared them for an offer, assessed reaction, and finally, in an all-night session where she refused to break for food or sleep, she wore them down. A deal was struck.
Isabel had done it, and at what Miguel considered an astounding bargain price. Not only would Banco Temuco be a good investment, he already had designs on how to leverage the asset to reach much deeper into Chile’s economy. His little treasure had done it brilliantly, and with guile and style. Perhaps he had been mistaken about keeping Isabel on the fringe of corporate activity. Yes, he thought, Isabel is ready for bigger things at Groupo Aragon.
Bank mergers take time. Complicated assets are involved. State and national regulators must review and approve. Temuco had become Isabel’s life, her home for months with few breaks. She was ready to leave, and would, once the papers were signed. The target was tomorrow, five months after the first handshake agreement.
That meant that today Temuco’s board room was shoulder-to-shoulder with bank executives, lawyers, accountants, staff, and monitoring government officials. Into this organized bedlam came Carlo, one of Isabel’s assistants, with a message: “Call immediately.” It was from her father. Her father was never in the line of her financial transactions. Miguel had kept Malcolm penned where he first placed him, managing Southern California Trust and Savings, a relatively minor holding in the Aragon universe. This had to be personal news, not business.
The urgency of the message left no doubt that the news would be unwelcome. Isabel said nothing. She gripped the desk, sat down and reached for a glass of water.
“Señora, are you ill?” It was Victor Saez, Temuco’s executive vice president.
She looked up, grateful for an opening.
“Not ill, Victor, thank you for asking. But not much sleep lately and too little food. Too much time here, I guess, and not enough time in your good Andes air. If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave for a while. I’ll be more alert for it.”
“Of course, señora. We will continue while you rest. Can I get you anything?”
“No, Carlo is here and I’ll have him take me to my apartment.”
As they walked to the elevator, Carlo whispered, “You look pale. Do you need a doctor?”
“No, I need to get back to my apartment as quickly as possible.”
Finally in her room, she was able to call her father.
“It’s Miguel,” said Malcolm Tennyson. He died a few hours ago. Heart attack. It happened so suddenly. He asked his secretary to get him an aspirin. By the time she returned he was on the floor. He died before medical people could reach him.”
Miguel. Papa Miguel. The light of her life. A bond she had had since before memory. The childhood home. This job. She owed him everything. And now she owed him her tears, which flowed instantly and liberally.
“Isabel.”
“Isabel.”
“Listen to me, Isabel.”
Her father’s urgency demanded an answer. After a long silence she finally managed to speak.
“How’s mother?”
“In shock. It’s not that you don’t think about these possibilities for a man eighty-eight years old who works the way he does. But then it happens, and the loss doesn’t seem real. And, Isabel, you know their history. Even so, she’s in distress.”
The tears continued. The voice barely did.
“So am I, father. So am I,” she sobbed.
“Listen to me, Isabel. You’re alone? We can talk?”
“Yes.”
“I know what this means to you. To all of us. But you must hold yourself together. Fortunately, this happened in corpor
ate headquarters. They can control the news there for a while. But not for long. By morning word will be out. You have to settle Temuco today.”
“Today? Impossible. The government agents are still reviewing the documents. We still need to round up some directors to sign off. Today? It can’t be today.” Isabel was jarred back from grief.
“Today. Once word is out they will ask for a delay. Without Miguel they will want to change or kill the deal. This is one of the biggest deals Aragon has had in years. We can’t afford to lose it. You know how fragile it all is.”
“It’s just money. More money. Can’t we just grieve? My heart’s breaking.”
“It’s not just money. It’s my job and yours. They called me from headquarters to tell me Miguel had died and that you need to save the deal. Before his body’s even cold. They’re counting on this deal going through. I hate to think how they’ll react if it doesn’t.”
“Who? Who’s they? They sound heartless.”
“Do it Isabel. I know you can. Make it happen today and grieve tomorrow.”
And she did it, her sense of success tempered by the knowledge that withholding news of Miguel’s death was borderline fraud and that the Temuco people whose confidence she had gained through months of patient cultivation, and would betray today would not trust her tomorrow, or ever again.
At 3:00 a.m., with the last papers signed and their transmission to Mexico City certified, she packed her bags, woke her driver, and without alerting her six-person Aragon support team, whose members were still unaware of Miguel’s death, left Temuco forever.
5
In life, Miguel Aragon sat at the center of Mexico’s wealth and influence. So now in death. His memorial service at the Metropolitan Cathedral stopped traffic in the business center of Mexico City while mourners, numbered in the thousands, filed past his coffin and sat for eulogies. The Metropolitan Cathedral, the largest in Latin America, dates to its consecration in 1656, a project of the conquistadors, built, no doubt, with help from funds provided by that century’s Aragons. Now the latest of the Aragon patriarchs, Miguel, lay handsome and regal surrounded by white velvet in a casket molded of brushed bronze, his eyes closed, his face at peace, the perfect image of an Aragon elder.
For so many years Miguel’s thoughts and actions were the fountainhead for the power and wealth of others. They loved him, feared him or hated him, but they could not ignore Miguel. Today was not a day for fear or hate, only love. No man had done more to strengthen Mexico’s place in the global economy than Miguel Aragon, said Mexico’s president. Mexico City’s mayor described Miguel’s good works, the donations to the city’s poor, the city’s culture, the parks and playgrounds. The bishop blessed Miguel as a great man and great patron, allowing the Church to expand its many works and extend its teachings. Entertainers who performed on the Aragon network and in its movies, sang, spoke, told endearing and colorful stories about him. It was a day to lift Miguel to the angels and to write his life’s story into the enduring scrolls of his nation.
Malcolm and Maria Tennyson were there. So was Federico, fetched from his mission serving Mexico’s small villages and communities. Aragons from distant places merged into what in earlier times would have been the Aragon court. It was a day of affirmation for the Aragon dynasty, the Aragon brand, both personal and business.
Retiring to the family compound, still in mourning dress, Isabel considered her future. She would continue working with Groupo Aragon, of course. She knew few of those who inhabited the higher floors of the company’s headquarters. She would wait for the corporate hierarchy to sort itself out and then go where she was assigned. But Isabel’s world had been a transient one for many years. Before resuming her work, she hoped now to take some time to be with her mother in Los Angeles, to comfort her, to adjust her life to the new reality.
As Isabel was making travel arrangements a messenger delivered a note from Miguel’s closest Groupo Aragon associate, Javier Carmona. Could she meet with him tomorrow to discuss aspects of Miguel’s will?
Javier Carmona had been with Groupo Aragon for twenty-five years, starting as one of Miguel Aragon’s many staff attorneys. Through the years, employing legal skill and corporate wiles he rose to become chief counsel. During his early days at Aragon he had earned a degree in finance by attending night school. That proved a powerful asset for Miguel. In Javier Carmona, Miguel had an adept lawyer who also understood the balance sheets. As Miguel aged and spent less time with business matters, Carmona was handed more keys to the inner vaults of Groupo Aragon.
The executive floor, reached by its own private elevator, and accessed only after scrutiny by an armed member of the company’s protection service, contained only two offices, one for Miguel and the other Carmona. The floor space between them was the domain of two veteran secretaries. At the opposite end of the executive floor was the corporate board room.
Carmona greeted Isabel with extravagant courtesy as she exited the private elevator.
“I am Javier Carmona,” he said, with a slight bow. “It is an honor and pleasure to meet you at last. Your grandfather, Don Miguel, spoke of you with such affection and enthusiasm. I feel we already are friends.”
“That’s very kind of you, Señor Carmona. I’m only sorry our meeting is the result of such a sad occasion.”
“My deepest condolences to you and your family. We here at the company have long felt we, too, were part of Miguel’s family. All of us were so close. Of course, our loss and our grief cannot measure yours. Please have a seat. We have much to discuss.”
Carmona touched his hand gently to Isabel’s back and steered her into his richly paneled office. He motioned to Isabel to sit on a sofa opposite his, across a table already prepared with a silver coffee serving set and china cups.
“Let me go directly to our business,” said Carmona. “Your grandfather has designated you as his principal heir. He has directed his estate to award you the greatest number of his ownership shares in the company. At current value we estimate those shares to be worth a billion U.S. dollars.”
Isabel had never wanted for money. Her family already was wealthy by most standards. For a life already lived without financial limit or stress, the bequest was surprising and welcome, but she did not receive news of the inheritance as a staggering or life-changing announcement. In fact, numbers so large were hard for her to immediately absorb. What came next, however, stunned her.
“Señora, your grandfather always had hoped that your brother Federico would succeed him in the enterprises. Although of course Don Miguel respected God’s will and he gave your brother his blessings, it was one of the greatest disappointments of his life when Federico left for the monastery. After you successfully secured the Temuco merger, your grandfather met with me to discuss your future with Groupo Aragon. He told me that he saw in you someone who could quickly rise to the top of the organization and, in fact, replace him, the position intended for Federico. I agreed and so, had he lived, your next assignment would have been here, with me, learning our most important markets and everything one must know to manage an enterprise as large and diverse as ours. In his will, Don Miguel arranged a path for you to one day replace him as the chief executive. And so, unless you have other plans, I am hopeful you will move back to Mexico City, work here for as many years as required to learn our business, and then, when you are prepared, return the Aragon name to the corporate leadership. At your age, you may look forward to decades as one of the most powerful business people in the world. This was your grandfather’s wish.”
While the significance of her financial inheritance didn’t immediately rock Isabel’s composure, news that she would be put on track to manage one of Latin America’s largest and most powerful companies did. Her eyes widened, her mouth went dry. She leaned forward toward Carmona as if she missed something in the statement, searching the floor for words that dropped out of the sentence, and when reassembled would change Carmona’s message. This was Federico’s job being offered to he
r. It was always Federico’s job. Never in all of her dreams had she coveted it or expected it to be hers.
“You are surprised, señora?” said Carmona.
Isabel nodded. “Shocked.”
“Don’t be. Don Miguel was a very practical man. He never permitted emotion to direct his decisions. He dreamed of an Aragon to replace him, but would not have considered you if he doubted your ability. You built our wealth management practice when no one before you could. You brought us Temuco under the most trying of circumstances. Don Miguel had confidence in you as well as love.”
In her current job at Groupo Aragon, Isabel was ten rungs from the top of the ladder. Talented, experienced people filled so many executive positions. She knew so little about what they did or how they did it. Despite her vast store of self-confidence, she felt totally unsuited to be chief executive of Groupo Aragon. But this was Papa’s wish, and his decision. Maybe she could rise to it.
In a daze, she nodded approval and gratitude to Javier Carmona for his friendship with her and with Papa for so many years.
Isabel returned to the Aragon home compound in Mexico City, past the compound’s guards with their AK-47s, past the Tamayos and the Boteros and the Riveras, so familiar, all waiting to greet her, hanging as they always were when she was a child, in the long entry hall, past the portraits of notable Aragons. Mexican colonial history, family history. Proud family history.
She had to talk with Federico.
6
After completing his Jesuit training and taking his vows, Federico had disappeared into village Mexico. Few knew where to find him at any given time. Isabel and her family feared constantly for his safety. These were dangerous days and he traveled in a land of dangerous people. Drug cartels particularly, but also the politically corrupt and the paramilitary groups that seemed to abide no laws. And there was the disease, the hunger, the bandits who often preyed on unsuspecting travelers. These were the places Federico, son of wealth, chose for his mission.
Although earlier in the day Isabel had promised Carmona she would tell no one about their conversation, she knew she had to tell Federico. He was a priest after all. A priest who had walked away from the very opportunity now being presented to her. They met at dusk, strolling through the garden of the family’s fortified compound. Isabel described her remarkable meeting with Carmona and asked for Federico’s advice.
The Latina President...and the Conspiracy to Destroy Her Page 4