Read Online Death in Veracruz by Hector Camín - Free Book Online

this time with a touch of impatience. The man who stumbled in was huge and wore a brown jacket and yellow tie over his enormous paunch.
    â€œBring me whatever you can find about this guy,” he said, holding out a card he had written on. “Do it yesterday.”
    â€œYes, chief.”
    â€œI have nothing on Pizarro,” he told me. “That is, nothing regarding the issue you raise. But he has a reputation to be reckoned with. Pizarro Tejeda, known as
Lacho.
He’s the leader of the oil workers’ in the area around Potrero del Llano, a mid-level union boss. He’s been mayor of a town in the district, very much a populist and advocate of so-called ‘petroleum Maoism’. As well as every other form of extremism you might think of.”
    In contrast to his usual fluency, he was speaking slowly, measuring every word.
    â€œHe’s a man much loved by the workers he leads,” he went on. “He has lots of followers and lots of appeal. He’s founded regional
union orchards
in the area he controls, and the fruits and vegetables they raise sell for half-price in union stores. A hundred per cent cheaper than in regular markets. Rumor has it he’s a descendant of Adalberto Tejeda, the left-wing governor in the twenties. Don’t underestimate Pizarro, my friend. You ought to meet him.”
    â€œThe photos I have show a different side of him. They’re quite impressive.”
    â€œBlood is always impressive.”
    â€œAnd shots to finish off the victims execution style?”
    â€œDon’t make a movie of it, my friend. Shots to the head in any case.”
    The subordinate returned with two sets of cards that he placed on the desk before his boss. He studied them closely one by one, beginning with Rojano’s.
    â€œHere’s where you come in,” he said, handing me a card.
    It documented my meeting with Rojano during the campaign stop in Veracruz the day he began showing me Pizarro’s miracles.
    â€œI have trouble understanding your friend,” my
paisano
said upon completing his review. “He has political ambitions in Pizarro’s sphere of influence, and he’s attacking him. Or he’s beginning to attack him. He also owns land around Chicontepec, where the victims are from.”
    â€œA 100 hectares between him and his wife.”
    â€œRather more, my friend.”
    â€œHow much more?”
    â€œTwice that and then some.”
    â€œ400 hectares?”
    â€œAbout that. Don’t you think your friend wants more?”
    He began going through the other set of cards, the ones about Lázaro Pizarro. Also one by one and in detail. He furrowed his brow and was lost in concentration, his eyes ablaze with the intensity of his scrutiny. Then he looked out the window, distracted as if he’d forgotten I was there.
    â€œWhat more would you like?” he said.
    â€œWhatever you have on Pizarro.”
    â€œThere’s nothing on Pizarro.”
    â€œNothing on the cards?”
    â€œThey’re routine. None of the bodies you’re talking about. Anything else?”
    â€œA hint.”
    â€œNothing.”
    He stood up to indicate the interview was over. “WhatI can do is find a way for you to meet
Lacho.
Are you interested?”
    â€œI am.”
    â€œIt can be done,” he said, escorting me to the door. “I’ll let you know.”
    On my way past his aide’s desk in the hall, I heard his bell’s insistent ring. It sounded almost hysterical coming from the desk of my acquaintance from Veracruz.

Chapter 3
PIZARRO’S WORID
    W e got a new president, and his economic stabilization program had unexpected teeth. It featured salary caps and the first
public
disclosure that Mexico’s finances were in thrall to the dictates of the International Monetary Fund. We played the chess game that comes with each new administration as the press and the government sound each other out.
    In late