America Libre (11 page)

On the following morning, Jo steered the Volvo into the parking lot behind the bookstore and saw Mano standing near the back
door.

“Buenos días, Mano,” she called out, waving through the window.

Mano stood erect like a soldier coming to attention when she stepped out of the car. “Good morning,” he answered dryly, eyes
focused in the distance.

“Well, as usual, I can see you haven’t come to chitchat,” she said, trying to soften his serious mood. “I’m sure you have
something important to discuss.”

“That’s right.”

“Would you like to come in and sit down?” she asked, nodding toward the door.

“No, this shouldn’t take long.”

Jo lowered her sunglasses, exposing her bright blue eyes. “All right. I’m listening.”

“Last week you said there was other work I could do to help protect our people.”

Jo waited for him to say more, to ask what she had meant, but Mano only stood there, silently staring at her. She answered
the question he wouldn’t ask. “Yes, there is. In fact, Ramon and I have been discussing it. We’re looking for a security director
for La Defensa del Pueblo and thought you might be a good candidate.”

Mano’s eyes narrowed with interest. “What kind of work would that be?”

“The primary duty of the security director would be to keep the leaders of the DDP safe from any kind of threat. There are
a lot of other functions, but that’s the most important one.”

“You mean like a bodyguard?”

“That’s an oversimplified description, but yes, like a bodyguard.”

“How does that help our people, Jo?”

Jo smiled, disarmed by Mano’s directness. “The mission of La Defensa del Pueblo is to protect our people. We plan to organize
the barrios so the vigilantes won’t catch us off guard again. By keeping the leaders of the DDP out of danger, you’re helping
that mission.”

“How much authority will the security director have?”

“This is a very important position with a great deal of autonomy. After all, our lives could depend on the person who holds
this job.” Jo paused. “It also pays a lot more than you’re making now,” she added.

“Can the security director also look for ways to protect our people from the vigilantes?”

“Yes. Establishing community security would be one of the other functions.”

“In that case, I’d like to apply for the job.”

“I’m very pleased to hear that. Mind telling me what’s sparked your interest?”

Mano lowered his gaze. He did not want Jo to know about the death of his niece. Jo might turn him down if she felt this was
something personal. “Is that important?” he said at last.

“No, I suppose not,” she answered. “Let me discuss this with Ramon. We’ll give you a final answer tomorrow.”

Mano nodded in thanks and left for the garage.

When Jo entered the bookstore, she found Ramon already behind the counter.

“He’s with us,” she called out, smiling.

I
t’s mine?” Mano asked, staring at the gleaming black Audi hybrid parked beside Jo’s Volvo.

“Absolutely,” Jo said, opening the driver’s door. “The new director of security for La Defensa del Pueblo is going to need
reliable transportation.”

Mano shook his head. “I appreciate your gesture, Jo, but I can’t accept this car. It’s too much.”

“This isn’t charity, Mano. Ramon and I made it part of the position. Anyone we hired as security director gets the car, fully
insured.” Jo paused, running her fingers slowly along the sleek lines of the fender. “It has a state-of-the-art security and
communications system and comes with a Priority One gas ration card,” she said, handing him the keys. “Get in and see how
it feels.”

Mano took the driver’s seat, fondling the leather-wrapped steering wheel. “I never expected anything like this, Jo.”

“Trust me, amigo. You’re going to earn it,” she said before entering the passenger’s side. She activated the GPS array and
brought up a preset location. “Let’s head here,” she said, tapping a map point on the LCD screen.

“Where are we going?” Mano asked, pulling out of the parking lot.

“This is your first assignment as security director—helping us choose a new location for the headquarters of La Defensa del
Pueblo.”

“Why not keep the office here at the bookstore?”

“We need room to grow… and a place the vigilantes can’t shoot up too easily. We’re going to become a prime target soon,” Jo
explained. “I found several locations online that might work. Let’s go take a look at the bricks and mortar.”

After visiting all the sites Jo had researched, they settled on a vacant three-story office building on East Olympic Boulevard
that had been spared from the rioting. Like the Cielo Azul Bookstore, it was centrally located within the Eslo community,
something high on Jo’s list of priorities. More important to Mano, the site was defensible, nestled in the center of five
connected buildings, providing ample protection from the flanks. In his eyes, the location had just one flaw.

He led Jo back to the building’s ground-floor entrance. “All this glass worries me,” he said, nodding toward the two plate-glass
doors flanked by window panels. “People working near this entrance would be easy targets. We’ll need to replace this glass
with something solid—although we should leave some view ports to watch anyone approaching.”

“That’s not a problem. We’ll get some steel doors and put in remote cameras, too. The whole interior will need to be gutted
and rebuilt anyway.”

Mano’s brow creased. “Can you afford all this and still keep the businesses running?”

“It’s time you knew some things about the bookstore and my recycling business, Mano. They were never meant to be moneymaking
ventures.”

“What do you mean?”

“I opened the bookstore to raise community awareness for justicia and to establish contacts in the Eslo community. I started
the recycling business because I want to help the environment—it also turned out to be an effective way to gather information.”

Mano’s face tightened as he recalled the “special addresses” on his recycling route. “So you’ve been spying on American citizens.”

“Mano, your moral sense is even stronger than your body,” she said, smiling. “I admire that very much.”

“I’m serious about this, Jo.”

“All right,” she said, suddenly terse. “It’s quite simple, Mano. We need to gather intelligence to protect our people—even
if it means doing something distasteful. Didn’t your unit in Afghanistan rely on spying to survive?”

“Enemies in a war have no rights. American citizens do.”

“You think we’re not at war? The vigilantes are not common criminals, Mano. Their killings are indiscriminate. And they’re
motivated by ideology. I call that war—or genocide. Take your pick.”

“I agree the vigilantes are our enemies. That doesn’t justify spying on anyone you suspect might be against you.”

Jo’s face softened again. “Innocent people are dying,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “We’re beyond justifications,
Mano. Our enemies are using every means possible to get information about us. Do you expect us to do anything less?”

Mano pondered her question. He’d joined the DDP to stop the vigilantes. Was he willing to walk away from Jo and Ramon’s considerable
resources over this?

“Spying on American citizens is wrong, Jo,” Mano said firmly. “But if it helps stop the attacks, I can live with it—for now.”

Jo smiled. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said, then tapped on one of the glass doors. “You want to replace this door with steel
but still leave us a way to see what’s going on outside. What we’re doing at Green Planet isn’t really any different. We need
to keep an eye on our enemies to protect ourselves. This conflict is going to get a lot worse, Mano—and very soon.”

Four months after the first drive-by raid, the death toll from the vigilante attacks stood at forty-one. Copycat shooting
sprees by vigilante convoys had struck El Paso, Houston, Brownsville, and San Antonio. The civil disturbances in those Texas
cities escalated following the attacks. Looting no longer seemed the prime motive for the turmoil. The violence now appeared
to be directed against visible symbols of government power.

The wave of vigilante attacks swelled the ranks of La Defensa del Pueblo in Los Angeles. Soon, similar organizations were
sprouting in Hispanic communities throughout the Southwest.

During a heavily attended press conference, the chief of the LAPD declared that La Defensa del Pueblo was a “hotbed for terrorism”
and ordered its leaders to disband or face arrest. The ACLU quickly filed a federal injunction, preventing the chief from
carrying out his threat. Chastened but not deterred, the chief vowed that if any DDP members were caught carrying weapons,
their entire leadership would be jailed. La Defensa del Pueblo responded by posting roadblocks at key intersections on routes
into East Los Angeles.

Wearing sky blue armbands, unarmed DDP volunteers challenged suspicious vehicles entering the barrios. Three days later, a
convoy of vigilantes attacked one of the roadblocks, killing four DDP sentries and two bystanders. The slayings made martyrs
of the DDP volunteers, raising the organization’s stock within the Eslo community.

Outside the nation’s troubled areas, people watched warily, hoping the violence would not spread to their backyards. The media
did little to dispel their fears.

ABC launched a daily thirty-minute news special titled
Rampage in the Barrios
after its regular evening newscast. Featuring an animated logo with a grave musical theme, the show was packed with lurid
footage of the recurring violence. Ratings were meteoric and the other networks quickly followed suit. NBC named their daily
show
Streets of Turmoil
. CBS called theirs
Crisis in Our Cities
.

For the first time in nearly a decade, viewership of the broadcast networks rose.

O
ur tactics have to change!” Ramon yelled over the burst of a jackhammer. “We need to give our people weapons, or pretty soon
wearing a DDP armband will be like having a target on your back!”

In spite of the jackhammer, Jo and Mano listened intently. It was their first meeting in the new headquarters of La Defensa
del Pueblo. The air in the small second-floor conference room was thick with the acrid smell of fresh paint and the sweet
tang of newly cut two-by-fours.

“We can’t do that yet, Ramon! If we arm”—suddenly the jackhammer stopped and Jo lowered her voice—“if we arm our people, we’re
going to be fighting a battle on two fronts at once: one with the vigilantes and the other with the LAPD.”

The jackhammer started up again. The renovations on their new headquarters were running behind schedule.

“I’m aware that the top cop of our fair city vowed he would never allow the DDP to carry weapons!” Ramon yelled in response.
“But what’s to stop us from keeping our weapons concealed?”

The jackhammer stopped.

“If the vigilantes think we’re unarmed, they’ll continue to attack our roadblocks,” Mano said softly. Until that moment, he
had been listening wordlessly. Hearing him speak startled the others more than the sound of the jackhammer.

Jo nodded. “Mano’s right. We may surprise the vigilantes the first time we fight back. But once we use our weapons, the game’s
over. We’ll all be arrested.”

“And there will be no one left to protect our people,” Mano added.

“What else can we do?” Ramon said with a sour look. “We can’t sit back and do nothing while our people are gunned down in
the streets.”

“We can go after the source. Take out the vigilantes,” Mano said calmly.

Jo and Ramon looked at each other in astonishment.

“Estás loco, hombre?” Ramon finally said. “That’s impossible, Mano. To begin with, how do we find them?”

“We set a trap, take some prisoners, and find out who their leaders are.”

“Could it work?” Jo asked, her eyes brightening.

Ramon crossed his arms and frowned. “Of course not. It’s ridiculous.”

The jackhammer rattled to life again. Mano sat silently, waiting for it to stop. “Yes, I think it could work,” he said after
the noise ceased. “The most difficult part will be setting the bait—to lure them into attacking someplace where we’re ready
for them.”

“It can’t be any kind of event that draws the cops,” Jo said, quickly grasping Mano’s plan. “The vigilantes won’t risk getting
busted.”

“OK, suppose you can draw the vigilantes into a trap. Then what?” Ramon asked.

“Once we take some prisoners and find out who their leaders are, we launch a counterstrike.”

Ramon threw his hands up. “A trap… taking prisoners… a counterstrike… Dios mio, Mano, it’s too much. The logistical preparations
are enormous. Most of our people don’t have your military training. We can’t pull this off.”

“I know this operation will take a lot of work,” Mano said. “I’m willing to do this on my own time. It won’t interfere with
my main duties, Ramon.”