Federico stopped, turned, and to her surprise wrapped his arms around her as if comforting her for a grievous loss.
“Heavenly father,” he said, words voiced with unmistakable agony. “Why must it come to this?”
Isabel, confused by Federico’s reaction, said nothing. He locked arms with her and resumed walking at their garden pace.
“Bell, I have never told anyone why I left. I never planned to. But now, because of Papa’s legacy for you, you need to know. I will tell you everything. Then you decide what you must do. I won’t judge you, no matter what that decision is.”
What followed was a story that, having heard, Isabel so much wanted to wish away, to not have heard at all.
“Groupo Aragon, our family company, the company that has provided you, me and others so much wealth, is a criminal enterprise.”
“Please,” she said, “let’s not be melodramatic. She smiled at Federico, assuming he was teasing her as he often used to.
“No,” he replied, “criminal is the appropriate word.”
“I learned this slowly, over many years, doubting my own eyes, ears, judgment, all the while. I was the novice. Those I worked with were so experienced. They spoke and acted with so much knowledge. They treated me so kindly and with great respect. If there was a mistake in understanding it had to be mine.
“But it wasn’t. As my responsibilities increased and my management portfolio expanded, I came to understand perfectly how Groupo Aragon made its money. My moment of certainty arrived when I was appointed assistant general manager for banking. I discovered that more than a thousand accounts that government regulators had flagged for suspicious activity had never been reviewed.”
“That sounds like incompetence, not criminality,” said Isabel.
“Planned incompetence. While other departments were staffed with skilled managers, banking was in the hands of inept cast-offs, the kind of people you would hire if inefficiency and disorder were your objectives. Not only did suspicious accounts go without review, billions of dollars and pesos in wire transfers went unmonitored during my time there. No one had any idea of the source or destination. The only possible conclusion was that our company was a safe portal where drug money could be washed and cleaned, corrupt officials could feel secure with their bribes, and huge sums could be hidden from tax authorities. I even discovered some accounts from other countries’ despicable dictators who were looting their national treasuries.”
Isabel stopped walking. She withdrew her arm from his and faced him.
“Surely you reported all of this.”
“Yes. And here’s what I was told: Pay no mind to it. This is normal business practice, not just at Aragon but at all banks.”
“And Papa?”
“He would always reply the same, I’ll look into it.”
“Did you consider going to the authorities directly?”
“I did consider it, until I discovered they already knew. Some of the dark accounts were theirs.”
Isabel sat down on a garden bench, hands folded, staring ahead at nothing in the twilight. Federico stood beside her, a foot on the bench, his forehead in his hands, the words increasingly difficult to come by, the enormity of his revelations wrenching him even now, years after submerging them in his conscience.
“It’s not just our banking enterprises that are corrupt. Once my eyes were opened I saw that we made huge profits from ownership interests in industrial cotton production. You’re aware that cotton is one of the worst offenders of child labor, throwing mere children into the fields for backbreaking work with little pay. We filed fraudulent reports about losses, allowing us to claim large government subsidies. We falsely swore on government affidavits that we conformed to all labor laws.
“Groupo Aragon holds a virtual monopoly on broadcast television. It paid little for the spectrum through long-term arrangements negotiated with government officials who we rewarded with ownership shares in Aragon. By manipulating power shortages though generating systems that Groupo Aragon owns, the company creates spikes in energy costs and profits illegally in trading markets. In fact, across the company’s entire ownership universe—insurance, mortgages and corporate finance—I found no sector where legitimate business operations did not mask illegitimate practices.
“And so I struggled with all of this, not knowing what to do—until I learned about Groupo Aragon’s secret support for the militias. In Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Peru, Columbia, and elsewhere. While our families were living the life of social elites, our company was funneling money and arms to paramilitary groups throughout Central and South America, killing and torturing tens thousands of innocent people. Many priests and nuns who tried to stand in the way of injustice simply disappeared or were murdered.
“When I saw those files I knew I had to leave Groupo Aragon. To do it publicly and noisily would do no good. The authorities were too compromised. A public statement, even just a simple letter of resignation with the reasons for it would have cost father his job and mother a broken heart.
“And I certainly thought of you,” dear Bell. “You would have had to choose loyalty to either me or Papa Miguel. You had lost two babies. You were divorcing Andres. How could I have done this to you? And for what purpose? No, it was best that I just disappear. I decided that though it would be a small act of penance, I would become a priest and return to the communities exploited by my family and try to save a life, or help raise awareness, or provide what solace I could to those who need it. Do you know, Bell, that nearly half of our people here in Mexico live on less than what in America would be $4 a day? They have no access to credit. In the villages they pay some of the highest rates in Mexico for everything—food, telephones, light, and heat for their homes. And they have so few options for healthcare and education. They need so much. I see this every day. It’s my life’s work. It’s the most rewarding work I’ve ever done.”
As the night darkened, a few lights appeared in the garden. Isabel wished they would go away. Federico’s tale spread darkness through her mind and body. She wished no light. The world had turned black. She listened quietly, staring at the path, too weak to walk it. Could this story, this moment in her life not be a moment at all, but rather a dream borne of the sadness of losing the grandfather she loved?
Federico sat beside her and caressed her hand.
“I’m sorry, dear Bell. So sorry. I never....”
“If I had heard this from anyone but you, Federico....it would have been a fantasy.”
More moments passed. She turned to him.
“What you’re telling me happened years ago, Federico. Maybe things have changed since you left.”
“Would that it be so. To relieve this weight. I once saw all of this from the executive offices. Now I see it from the villages. I share the results of this corruption with those I serve. The child labor, the high cost of electricity, the raids on land, the disappearance of good people. No, Bell, nothing’s changed.”
“What will I do, Federico? What can I do?
“Bell, you can accept the power they give you and try to change its course to a more benign or even more helpful one. You are strong, maybe strong enough to do that, but I genuinely doubt it. Had I been a better man, I might have tried. Would I have succeeded if I stayed? No. The culture is too strong. So many are compromised. I don’t know how it can be changed. I just don’t know how. As a woman in a man’s world trying to upend power and fortune embedded in a hundred years of history?”
A long silence punctuated his doubt.
“Walk away and do other things. The world is open to you. You have the skills, the knowledge, the resources to walk nearly any path you choose—except the one you are on. The offer has been made to join them. If you refuse their offer you quickly become their enemy rather than their figurehead. To decline to run the ship means you are not one of them and they will always fear mutiny if you stay aboard. My departure was a shock to them. They will be much more alert to you. They will push
you off quickly unless you walk away first.”
In all of her thirty-six years, Isabel Aragon had what most people would consider only a few bad days. Her miscarriages. Her divorce. Otherwise, what can go wrong in the life of an attractive, rich, very smart woman, raised in a cocoon of opulence? Learning that her beloved Papa was the architect and chief administrator of a corrupt enterprise that brought misery to so many others was beyond shocking. Otherworldly. If the shrubs in the garden began speaking to her she could not have been more disoriented.
Federico was not just her brother and close friend, but her north star, a priest and someone who had seen the enterprise from the inside and walked away from it. There could be no doubt that Federico spoke truth. Now she understood Papa’s reluctance to employ her in the company’s core business. Why had he changed his mind in the last days of his life? Did he think her cunning in making deals meant she would readily accept the rest of the company bargain of lie, cheat, and steal? Or did he see in her someone who might reform an enterprise he knew desperately needed transformation?
They left the bench and walked through the darkness for many more moments in deep silence.
“You and I share the same sense of right and wrong, Federico, but we’re from different molds. You chose not to confront them. I believe I can. I say nothing now, I spend my time learning what they know and building alliances. And when I become chief executive I make the changes that must be made.”
“They will kill you.”
“Kill me?”
“Most certainly. You will have an untimely accident. Or fall mortally ill from some strange disease or condition, certified by legitimate medical authorities.”
“They are that evil?”
“Evil? No. That’s what makes this situation so impossible for us. “In most respects they are good people. They faithfully attend church. They send their children to the best schools. They contribute generously to worthy causes. For the most part they are shrewd and accomplished business people. But they all live within an evil system. For generations Groupo Aragon and other companies like them have paid off politicians and used their economic and political power to dislodge the weak from their possessions—all justified as common business practice. They create victims each day, and as in both the Aztec and Mayan cultures, losers suffer and often die.
“You heard the eulogies at the service. They were heartfelt. Papa was loved and respected because he was a valuable part of this system. The church was filled with winners, and Papa was truly a hero to them. The losers were not there. They could not afford the fine clothes, the cars and drivers, the big payoffs required to be in the pews all around us. If you were to try to change the culture of Groupo Aragon, you would be a threat to all those who were there to mourn. Yes, they would find a way to remove you. Then they would all pay homage at your funeral. The Aragon board is not making this offer to give you power. It’s to be a face that helps mask the true nature of theirs.”
Isabel pondered for a moment. “What if I were to confront them immediately, explain that I understand what’s been happening, but that there’s more to be gained by doing it honestly, and that they should know from the start what to expect?”
“They won’t allow it.”
They walked for moments more in silence.
“What can I do? I don’t have all the options that were open to you, Federico.”
“Meaning?”
“I can’t even become a Jesuit priest.”
7
Five days from her walk into darkness with Federico. Five days of personal anguish. Could she talk about this with her father? No. He had to be aware, or at least to suspect the truth. His head was down. He was doing his job. He and mother were living comfortable lives. Malcolm Tennyson was not one to raise ethical questions with Groupo Aragon. Certainly he had been in no position to confront Papa, his lifetime nemesis. Federico had never talked to father about it. Neither could she. She could talk with no one, only herself, in lonely hours when there was no distraction to divert her from the truth. On this, the fifth day, Groupo Aragon’s board of directors was meeting. The introduction of Isabel Aragon was the first item on the board’s agenda.
Now she sat facing the company’s twelve directors, all men, each of them a major figure in Latin America’s corporate world. Javier Carmona, ever gracious, introduced Isabel to the board.
“For those who do not personally know Señora Aragon Tennyson,” said Carmona, “I want to commend her as a worthy heir to Don Miguel, who we all respected and loved as our own brother.”
Heads around the table nodded and all rose as one in a gesture of respect. It was a room that reflected Miguel Aragon. Paintings by elite Latin artists marched across the walls, an attraction and intimidation for those whom Miguel wished to impress. The conference table was itself a work of art, fashioned by hand from rare Bolivian rosewood. The water pitchers were hammered silver from Taxco. Marble topped side tables stood in each corner, against Brazilian ebony wall panels. The board room and everything in it was museum quality.
Isabel had never been here. She was stunned at the opulence that surrounded her, unnerved by the commanding stature of the men who stood to greet her.
“As you are aware, gentlemen,” Carmona continued when all were seated, “It is Don Miguel’s wish that Señora Tennyson be prepared for Groupo management. We all owe much to Don Miguel, and I am sure we all agree that we should respect his wishes.”
Heads around the table nodded respectfully.
“Of course, señora has much to learn.” He turned to her.
“All of us know of your great success in closing the Temuco merger in Chile last week, and we are most grateful for your skill in doing that in the most trying of circumstances. Now we are hopeful you can become familiar with our entire enterprise so that one day you may play a much larger role. But I have spoken too long. señora, please address our board.”
Her moment had arrived and she was terrified. The impulse to run from the room nearly overcame her. Her next impulse was to speak meaningless banalities, to avoid confrontation, to be a nice girl and do what was expected. But an image of Federico flashed before her. He had been here. His choice was to accept the inevitable. And Papa? Papa could not have willed her, his little treasure, to become a criminal. He must have been counting on her to make the changes he knew needed to be made. Last night, alone with her thoughts, she had decided to try to alter this reality. It might take years. But if she was patient and recruited allies....
Isabel unfolded a sheet of paper.
“Gentlemen. With respect for your time, and to assure that my thoughts are conveyed to you the way I intend them to be, I have written a brief statement.
“Señor Carmona......” she began by naming each person at the table individually to establish a personal bond.
“My grandfather was a vital part of my life. He taught me much. He wanted so much for me to succeed. He was an example for me of how to live my life. He taught me to be honest and truthful. I am sure he would expect no less from me today.
“Those of you who helped build Groupo Aragon have created an enterprise central to the lives of hundreds of millions of people, in Mexico and throughout the Latin world. You all can be proud of the countless jobs you created and continue to maintain. The homes, the agricultural fields, the industries, the research, all that you’ve accomplished. Thanks to your management skills, your energy, and your creativity, Groupo Aragon is a Latin American success story like few others.”
Heads nodded. The men at the table knew that flattery was not a negotiable asset, but in the hard world of business, its rarity makes it most welcome.
“These are positive accomplishments and strengths. I applaud you all for them.”
She stopped to sip water from the crystal goblet before her. She breathed deeply. For a moment she closed her eyes. Then resumed.
“And because of such success, Groupo Aragon has the resources to accomplish much more.
“As w
e all know from our basic sciences, where there are positives there are negatives. And we all know from our day-to-day activities that Groupo Aragon has negatives. We have done and continue to do things that do not make us proud. I need not go into detail. You know more than I what I’m referring to.
“I am humbled that you have agreed to honor my grandfather’s wish—that I be groomed for leadership. In my heart I believe I have the skills, the temperament, and the desire to do this job and to do it well. I accept that challenge with respect and gratitude. But I am not my grandfather. While I honor his memory I do not honor some of his practice. Our time is not his time. My generation is not his generation. My business standards are not his. Therefore, so there will be no mistake of my intentions, I will accept this responsibility with the understanding that Groupo Aragon will move in a new direction.”
She had everyone’s full attention now. Her listeners’ faces became uniformly noncommittal and impassive. This was a board comprised of those who played for high stakes. They knew how to mask feelings, no matter how intense.
Isabel continued. “It is in our best interests as a company to have a just and dependable legal system, where businesses and individuals alike can count on enforceable contracts and a minimum of corruption. In the United States, a generally fair legal system is an asset to all business. The larger the business, the larger the gain. We should work to bring such a system here. I believe we all know what I’m speaking of.
“We control so many markets and can continue to do so in a fair marketplace. Bribes for contracts and political influence are not and should not be necessary. Corruption creates a trail through a dark forest filled with frightening possibilities. Groupo Aragon should be an acknowledged leader in ending these practices.
The Latina President...and the Conspiracy to Destroy Her Page 5