María del Rosario, one of the advantages of a bureaucracy like ours is that the archivists never change because nobody ever thinks of them. They’re forgotten pawns or, depending on the circumstance, people who are easily sacrificed on the great chessboard. And the swift bishops of the game know that the pawns are unaware of their own value. What I mean is, they don’t know what they have in their own archives. María del Rosario, the humble archivist don Cástulo Magón has just determined the outcome of the presidential succession in Mexico.
“Where did these documents come from, don Cástulo?”
“Don Tácito de la Canal handed them to me personally.”
“Did he tell you to keep them a secret?”
“No, not at all. He knows he can trust me with anything. Only once did he ever say to me: ‘Destroy these papers. They’re of no consequence. We are going to drown in all these ridiculous papers.’ ”
Don Cástulo ran his hand across the little hair-bridge he combs over his balding head.
I almost said to him, “He could have destroyed them himself.”
Again I thought of Nixon. Of how every last testimony had to be saved, even the criminal kind, even if only for two reasons. Politicians think all their actions have tremendous historical importance. And they are arrogant enough to think they’re above the law. And perhaps, as well, they mysteriously fear they will be discovered as the bureaucrat who destroyed documents. Here, of course, the guilty party would be poor old Cástulo.
But when don Cástulo handed me the pile of incriminating papers, there was yet another surprise. The documents had the name “Tácito de la Canal” written on them, in his own handwriting. And that, my dear lady, was when I had to ask myself, “Why would a criminal ever sign papers that would single him out as perpetrator of a colossal fraud?”
31. MARÍA DEL ROSARIO GALVÁN TO NICOLÁS VALDIVIA
Your information, my cherished friend, is priceless. It makes me want to go running out to the palace balcony, ring the Independence Bell, and proclaim the truth for all the world to hear. In politics, however, timing is everything. In fact, politics is all about knowing how to gauge the moment. Easier said than done. It’s hard to reconcile intelligence and passion in the interest of fulfilling one’s obligations.
You and I have agreed that our task is to prevent Tácito de la Canal from becoming president. And finally, thanks to you, we have the cards we need to play. We can forget about insulting Tácito. People forget insults. Hatred simmers. Irritation boils over. Frustration is unacceptable and unwittingly gives way to chaos, which then causes people to behave irrationally, and that encourages the most dangerous and counterproductive political adventures. In other words, let us proceed according to some kind of method. Our poor country has suffered too long from endemic dysfunction. It has endured almost constant starvation and demoralization. Oh, Mexico: so many wounds, and so little time for them to heal.
I quote our friend Bernal Herrera: “All these evils can be avoided if we create a country with laws that we are prepared to enforce and obey.” This is the point. Tácito de la Canal has flagrantly violated the law. You know him. You’ve worked with him. You know he’s a cruel, miserable man. Perhaps you haven’t yet learned that the most cruel people are also the most insecure. They are cruel because they’re afraid of being nothing. Cruelty gives them an identity. It’s the easiest path for them. To love, to offer your hand to your fellow man, to attend to his needs — that, my friend, requires time and passion. Few people possess those virtues. I must confess that occasionally even I feel I lack them, and must remind myself: “Patience, woman. Stay calm.”
But don’t trust chance if you want to destroy Tácito. Chance takes care of itself, so what you and Bernal and I must do is use our will to overcome chance, and govern with well-calculated actions. Never forget that passions are arbitrary forms of conduct. Let Tácito be the one to trust chance and act arbitrarily. The good politician knows how to turn everything into an advantage. Add up the elements yourself: one, your accidental encounter with that archivist, whatever his name is; two, the existence of those documents that were never destroyed; three, Tácito’s signature (I am astonished by that, I admit, and I’m still thinking about it); and four, our friendship, my close relationship with Bernal Herrera, and the political ides that are fast approaching, whether we like it or not.
Add everything up, Nicolás Valdivia, and gauge your time. You are the master of a secret that you’ve shared with me, further confirming the trust I’ve placed in you, which you occasionally seem to doubt or perhaps not reciprocate. It doesn’t matter. Secrets, you know, are our worst political enemies. Look at Mexico, look at Colombia, look at Europe or the United States. Murders, shady business deals, drug trafficking, insider information. Our enemies are united by all these things. And now, the three of us have the good fortune of sharing a secret. You can’t imagine, Nicolás, the number of times when, in my younger years, I trusted friends I believed to be discreet, only to wake up from my innocent illusions to the reality of betrayal and recklessness. You give me back my confidence; you give me friendship.
You, me, and Bernal, united by a secret.
And standing before us, like the cast of a play, are all the others. The man who deceives and hides his true passions: Tácito de la Canal. The man who never lives up to his boastful claims: Andino Almazán. The man who performs his job professionally: Patricio Palafox. The man who only cares about getting rich: Felipe Aguirre. The man who reveals all his vices and hides none of his ambitions: Cícero Arruza. The inscrutable professional soldier who might be playing on more than one side: Mondragón von Bertrab. And then, the most dangerous player of all, the man who collects victims like other people collect stamps: our ex-president César León.
And you and me and Bernal Herrera.
And a president who only wants to make his mark on history.
Let’s help him.
Oh yes, of course, the medium is petty, even despicable. But since we have no other reality but this, the medium is also powerful. And, getting back to my original point, if we want to move around in this medium, this world, we must remember that secrecy is paramount. Sometimes, the information you give and receive can be more useful to your enemy than to your ally. And only when that information comes out do you realize that you should never have disclosed it. Sometimes, you know, I think you’re a bit too naïve. Your heart turns to mush when you deal with humble people — the humiliated secretary, the office worker cheated of her money, the archivist with no hope. . Remember, we weren’t born to live with the poor or to live like the poor. The poor are to be respected. . but from a distance.
I’m serious about this. Never be sincere with a poor person. In exchange you’ll only be treated with egalitarian scorn and that’s something a politician can’t tolerate. Don’t let them, out of the weakness of your sympathetic heart, treat you like an equal. You are not equal to inferior people. You are not. Calculate. Manipulate. If you don’t act astutely, if you betray or disregard our agreement, we’ll be lost and you’ll be lost. That will be the end of your career. And that would frustrate me.
Remember what I promised you. Wait. Calculate.
32. MARÍA DEL ROSARIO GALVÁN TO BERNAL HERRERA
Darling, my protégé Nicolás Valdivia has served us well. The wolf has fallen into the trap and doesn’t know it yet. Tácito is ours. But he might slip away if we act too hastily. Observe the political panorama that’s taking shape. The evil César León is attempting to convince the president of Congress, Onésimo Canabal, that there’s still time to change the constitution and reform the laws regarding succession in the event of the president’s incapacitation or death.