Ground Truth (9 page)

Chapter 17

June 26

1:30 p.m.

THE ROCKY START with Ramos at the S & S office had made Jack decide to do as much of his work as he could in the study of the condo. Reviewing the dozens of files he’d asked Tom Montana to send from the Palmer plant in Juarez had been a colossal waste of time. What he needed was solid information he could use to form a framework for a defense against PROFEPA and a basis for negotiations. What Montana had sent were boxes of files that included many duplicates and no index. He had no way to tell if they were even authentic and, of course, Montana hadn’t sent any he didn’t want Jack to see. It was a fiasco.

Montana claimed the existing violations were trivial. “They wrote up one of the restrooms,” he’d said. “A white glove inspection in a toxic waste treatment plant? They just want to nail us.”

Jack wasn’t convinced. In their video conference, Montana had blamed the investigation on a jealous competitor or bribe-seeking bureaucrats. Now he admitted violations and brushed them off. But would the government really try to shut down such a big player in Juarez for penny ante stuff?

Evaluating the list of infractions alleged by PROFEPA was slow going because they were in technical Spanish. One infraction stood out: an allegation that the plant didn’t possess some of the equipment needed to treat certain types of waste it accepted.
How would Montana explain that away?
Tucked away at the end of the list was a time bomb. PROFEPA retained the right to amend the list, even at the Hearing. The PROFEPA lawyers were probably holding back some of their ammunition. Smart move. With what Montana had sent him, he couldn’t construct a defense.

His research had shown that the lead PROFEPA lawyer, Roberto Alvarez Nunez, had finished in the top ten percent of his law class at
Escuela Libre de Derecho
, a school known for intellectual students who excelled in oral argument. After graduation he joined PROFEPA, where he’d been ever since.

His associate, Linda Santiago, had a magna cum laude B.Sc. in microbiology from UCLA, and had earned honors in law school. After three years with the highly-regarded firm of Marquez, Alonso & Correa, she’d opted for public service with PROFEPA. She was also chairperson for the Mexico City Sierra Club.

Neither seemed likely to take a bribe or be conned by an angry competitor of Palmer’s. Nor would they be pushovers in a Hearing. They could turn out to be Palmer Industries’ worst nightmare.

JACK STOOD ON his condo balcony, looking down at Avenida Argentina. “I finally got the PROFEPA lawyers to agree to meet with me, but not until the first of next week,” he reported to Justin Sinclair on the phone.

“They’re jerking us around,” Sinclair roared. “I won’t stand for it.”

“They’re jerking us around because we have no leverage.” He spoke in a calm, measured voice, suppressing his desire to tell Sinclair to get a grip on himself. Sinclair’s posturing must have worked somewhere, maybe when he testified before Congress, but it would get them in trouble when dealing with low-level bureaucrats in Mexico. Sinclair was letting his determination to protect Palmer Industries cloud his judgment.

“Listen carefully, Jack. There are about ten days until the Hearing. Don’t let them get a temporary injunction to shut down the plant between now and then. This is why you’re there, for Christ’s sake.”

He held his tongue again. “Look, they didn’t want to meet, but I got that done. Then I got them to agree not to move against the plant before meeting with me. That took another twenty minutes. If I had either a cooperative client or some facts on my side this might be a little easier.”

“Well, that’s something. Just so you’ll know, I’m working the political angle, but it’s very risky. That’s why I want you to show the PROFEPA lawyers that Palmer is ready to fight them in court. They’ll cave. They’re flunkies with no personal stake in this. Make sure that Hearing never happens. And remember, if paying a fine will end this, agree to it.”

“What’s the upper limit?”

“One million.”

“Pesos? That’s more than eighty thousand dollars.”

“One million
U.S.
dollars,” Sinclair said. “If that plant is shut down, the company will be in breach of dozens of contracts, liable for huge damages and penalties. Get them to name their price. We’ll pay it.” He paused, then spoke in a more conciliatory tone. “Jack, your future is on the line. Be someone I can count on.”

Sinclair hung up before Jack could answer.

Jack stared across the avenue at Parque Mexico.
Why was Palmer willing to pay a million bucks to make this go away? He had a strong feeling that if he ever found out, the answer wouldn’t make him happy.

Chapter 18

June 30

2:30 p.m.

THE PROFEPA conference table consisted of two large panes of scratched glass resting loosely in a black metal frame. It looked as if it had served for decades somewhere else until, nearing the end of its useful life, it filtered down to the lowest rung in the bureaucratic ladder—PROFEPA. In contrast, the art on the walls was inspired: hand-woven wall tapestries whose abstract designs brought forests, meadows, and mountain peaks into the room.

He took a seat, pulled his notes from his briefcase and gave them a quick review. He didn’t have facts on his side, and he sure as hell couldn’t count on getting sympathy for his client. He had to rely on common sense and goodwill to end this conflict short of legal warfare. The PROFEPA lawyers would be reasonable, as would he. He
could
make a deal.

A neat stack of files across the table caught his attention. The label on the top file read “PROFEPA v. Palmer Industries, Injunction, Abstract and Brief.” He smiled to himself at the old ploy of “accidentally” leaving in plain sight what appeared to be documents ready to file with a court. The idea was to intimidate the opponent.
Nice try, guys
.

At that moment, the two government lawyers walked in. After completing introductions and receiving coffee from the receptionist, Alvarez asked him politely how he liked Mexico City.

When the chitchat continued past the usual time given to pleasantries, Jack understood that they were waiting for him to take the lead. Either it was a trap or they were so confident that the meeting was meaningless to them.

When Alvarez finished a story about jailing the owner of an auto repair shop caught dumping dead batteries into a lake, Jack said, “Sounds like he deserved punishment, but let’s talk about someone who doesn’t. That’s my client, Palmer Industries. Speaking hypothetically, if Palmer stipulated to certain infractions, you’d be willing to give them time to correct the problems, isn’t that right?”

The two lawyers looked at him without expression, waiting for him to go on. He didn’t like going ahead without feedback, but they gave him no choice.

“In addition, my clients might be willing to pay a reasonable fine if you will assure them that PROFEPA won’t seek an injunction against the company.” He smiled and stacked the papers in front of him. “Both sides get what they want.”

“And what amount of fine would your client consider reasonable?” Alvarez asked.

“I think they might consider anything up to a half-million U.S. dollars.”

Alvarez looked at Linda Santiago and nodded his head slightly. “A half million is fifteen times my salary for a year. Would they be paying that to us in cash?”

Good God! Had Alvarez misunderstood? Did he think he was being offered a bribe?
But wait a minute. Maybe Alvarez was testing him to see if he’d bite, offer to make the payment personal. If he did, they’d have the
federales
on site in ten minutes.

“Any fine would be paid by the company as directed by the head of the governmental entity,” he said stiffly. In his gut, he knew he was doing the exact opposite of what Montana would have done had he been in Jack’s place.

Linda Santiago cleared her throat. “Mr. Strider, Mexico has excellent environmental protection laws, most based on Articles 25, 27, 73 and 115 of our Constitution. PROFEPA monitors complaints, investigates violations, enforces regulations, prosecutes, and assesses penalties. We can also refer charges to the Federal Attorney General requesting criminal sanctions.”

“Yes, I’ve read—”

“But that’s only theory,” she interrupted smoothly. “In reality, we don’t have the money to enforce the law against most violators. Besides that, sometimes we’re ordered back into our cages no matter how strong a case we have. But,” she smiled slightly, “the Palmer case is different.”

“Why is it different?”

“We haven’t been called off, and we’re going to get our injunction. Our agents will put seals on the equipment and install surveillance cameras in all major spaces. We’re going to put Palmer Industries out of business for good.”

Alvarez leaned forward. “And put your clients in prison.”

Whoa. They’re after blood.
All he could do was act as if he hadn’t heard what they’d just said.

“Okay, just lay out for me what Palmer Industries needs to do, or stop doing, and I’ll make it happen.”

“Don’t bother, Mr. Strider.” Alvarez shook his head. “If they’ve been poisoning the water supply of Juarez and El Paso, the damage could be catastrophic. It’s too late to un-ring that bell.”

Jack stared at the man, bewildered.
Poisoning the water supply? Was that a scare tactic?
“I’ve seen no evidence about any threat to the water supply. But here’s a fact. My client provides hundreds of jobs. Juarez needs those jobs.”

“Palmer Industries didn’t come to Mexico to help out Juarez,” Alvarez said. “It came because it can get away with paying absurdly low wages.”

Police sirens, one after another, passed by outside the windows. Jack looked at Santiago. “You and I have something in common. We’re both active in the Sierra Club. We both work to protect our environment. Let’s work together to resolve this.”

“If Sierra Club membership was really a big deal for you, you wouldn’t be defending environmental thugs,” Alvarez said flatly. “And, by the way, we did some research on you. Your involvement in that scandal where Mexican girls were forced into prostitution doesn’t do much for your reputation with us.”

“I was
not
involved in any scandal. It was my—” He choked back his anger and shifted his approach. “Regardless of what you think of me, you can’t justify a vendetta against my client simply because the company’s based in another country.”

“Vendetta?” Alvarez repeated loudly.
“Maquilas
like your client are coddled. They do whatever they want to the Mexican people. I’ll tell you the truth about
maquilas.”

“Roberto,” Santiago intervened, “let it go. It won’t make any difference.”

Alvarez stood. “No, I want him to hear this.” He gripped the edge of the table with both hands and leaned toward Jack. “Most border towns are in a desert with barely enough water to get by. Then the
maquilas
came and started sucking up all the water they wanted. The law says they have to treat it before sending it back into the water supply but many won’t do it. Some
colonias
have no water at all. Municipal water treatment systems barely function.
Gringos
make fortunes while our people die of thirst. I’ll tell you this.” He stood straight, and his chin rose. “You stole our gold and land in the past. But today you won’t steal our water without a fight.”

Santiago spoke up. “
Maquilas
provide jobs, sure, but do you know who they hire? Women between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five from rural villages because they’ve been brought up not to complain. These young women are far from home, unprotected, barely surviving. The pregnancy rate is sky high, and there’s almost no medical care. When a worker drops out, they replace her in an hour.”

“To keep those miserable jobs,” Alvarez said as he sat down, “hundreds of thousands have to live in huts with no insulation, no electricity to run even a small fridge or a fan, no running water and no sewer. And the jobs have no security. When an economic slowdown hit the U.S., 80,000 workers in Ciudad Juarez were fired. Not one day’s notice. No severance pay. Not even bus fare back to their villages. And if a
maquila
can increase profits by moving to China or Malaysia, it’s gone overnight, leaving nothing but empty buildings. Now, maybe you understand more about why we’re going to take down Palmer Industries.”

He certainly did. In different circumstances, he might have been on their side. Their anti-
maquila
sentiment was a wild card he hadn’t counted on.
He let seconds pass in silence so some of the intensity could dissipate. Finally he said, “I understand, so let’s talk about what Palmer Industries can do to be a better citizen of Juarez.”

“Palmer Industries is
not
a citizen of Juarez,” Santiago said. “The owners live in San Francisco. Even the manager crosses the border into Mexico each morning, then goes back to El Paso at night. By the way, it’s obvious you don’t
know
Tomás Montana.”

“So,” Alvarez added, “no settlement.”

The two PROFEPA lawyers shook hands with him coldly and walked out.

Jack stayed behind for a moment to compose himself. He’d just run into a brick wall where a brick wall wasn’t an option.

4:30 p.m.

“ROBERTO ALVAREZ hates
maquilas
and sees a chance to knock down a big one,” Jack said into the phone. “He smells Palmer blood in the water.”

He pictured Sinclair in his shrine room, leaning back, ankles crossed on the desk, leafing through
Foreign Affairs
while he manipulated as much of the world as he could reach.

“Oh, Christ! I told you to make a deal and end this thing. I shouldn’t have to do everything myself.”

It’s what you haven’t done that’s part of the problem,
Jack thought
.
Aloud, he said, “If you don’t like my work, I won’t send you a bill.”

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

“Look, Alvarez isn’t bluffing. He’s ready to go for an immediate injunction.”

Sinclair was silent for a moment. “We just took over handling this. The judge has to grant us time to prepare.”

Jack knew he had to at least sound patient. “If the judge delays the Hearing, Alvarez will move for a temporary injunction to shut down operations. Palmer Industries doesn’t have clean hands, so it will probably be granted.”

“How much do they have on Palmer anyway?”

“A lot of petty stuff, and they can probably prove it all. But there has to be more to this. Since Alvarez is being so hard-nosed, I think he has something else, something big. He’ll amend his complaint to make it more damning.”

“Do I have to send a skywriter down there to get my message across? We’re not handing this over to some damn penny-ante judge we don’t know, hoping he rules in our favor.”

“Then send someone to Juarez to find the facts and build a defense. That’s not me. Arthur Palmer made that clear.”

Silence on the line stretched out. Finally, Sinclair said, “I’ll tell Arthur he’s looking at padlocked doors unless you go to the plant and get everything you need to put together a defense. It has to be you, because I don’t trust anyone from the Mexico City office. Catch a plane to Juarez tomorrow. You’ll be back in Mexico City in a couple of days.” He hung up.

Jack stood holding the phone, listening to the dial tone. His back was against the wall. Alvarez couldn’t be bluffed into folding his hand, and he wouldn’t settle. Nor would he let the plant stay open based on Palmer’s promise to clean up its act. And Montana would need the best criminal lawyer in Mexico if he tried to bribe Alvarez.

Nice irony. Arthur Palmer had thrown his American workers out on the street. Now he was determined to keep the plant open and that meant saving the jobs of his Mexican workers. If Palmer and Montana couldn’t prove that Palmer Industries’ operations were lawful, or nearly so, Jack would be out of a job.