America Libre (32 page)

Jo, Ramon, and Mano emerged from their condo and started the short walk toward the church, the glare of the low morning sun
reaching toward them from the mountain-lined horizon.

“Today we end the impasse,” Ramon announced, striding briskly.

“I understand,” Jo said, nodding. “I’ll take care of my part.”

“What’s going to happen today?” Mano asked.

“You’ll see very soon, amigo,” Ramon replied.

When the trio entered the church, the delegates were already assembled. The buzz of casual conversations that marked the start
of previous days was gone, replaced by a tense silence. Mano sat down in the first pew and was surprised to see Jo continue
toward the back of the church rather than take her usual seat next to him.

Ramon rose to the dais. “Hermanas y hermanos,” he began grandly, “for the last four days, we’ve aired the long list of grievances
we have suffered at the hands of the United States government. Is there a person in this room who does not agree that our
people have been the victims of a monumental injustice?” Ramon paused, sure no one would challenge him. “Then I think it’s
time we addressed the most critical decision this assembly will have to make. It’s simply this: will this document be only
a list of grievances by disgruntled citizens of the United States… or the first step in a proclamation of our independence?”

A loud chorus of cheers—along with several shouts of protest—filled the air. Ramon raised his hands to quiet the group.

“All other concerns are immaterial until we resolve this issue. Therefore, I’d like to propose we take a vote on the following
question. Independence: yes or no?”

After a chorus of voices shouted their assent, Ramon nodded. “All those opposed to a declaration of independence, please stand
and raise your hands.”

Roughly two dozen delegates in several pockets rose and thrust their arms into the air, their pained expressions indicating
their realization of being greatly outnumbered.

Ramon waited calmly, saying nothing as the standing delegates noticed the looks of disdain around them. As the silence ground
on, the posture of those on their feet began to wither. Several lowered their hands but remained standing. Then the scornful
stares began taking their toll. Two of the delegates meekly sat down. Those who remained standing glanced around for support,
their expressions almost pleading. They were met with hard looks of contempt.

Three more sat down.

The silence continued.

Four more sat down.

The seconds crawled by in a tense, almost unbearable quiet. Then, with the swift, synchronized motion of a school of fish,
the remaining delegates sat down.

“It appears our desire for independence is unanimous,” Ramon said with a gracious smile.

His words were like the breaking of a dam.

A cheer burst from the assembly as the delegates rose to their feet in a sea of hugs and handshakes. The celebrations rose
to a frenzy as a succession of gongs echoed throughout the church. Someone was ringing the church bell. The archaic gesture
was like a stamp of legitimacy, etching their decision into history.

It was a moment no one in the church would ever forget.

After finishing his evening meal, Mano crumpled the MRE package and placed it in one of the two bulging plastic bags in what
would have been the kitchen of the condo. One bag was for recyclables, the other for regular trash.
No matter where she goes, Jo is still a tree hugger
, Mano mused.

Returning to the condo’s hearth, he stretched out on his sleeping bag, enjoying the solitude after a long and momentous day.
He was drifting into sleep when Ramon entered the room.

“What’s this? Asleep already? Don’t my speeches provide you with ample opportunities for a siesta?”

Mano sat up and grinned. “No, Ramon. It’s hard work trying to stay awake during your speeches.”

Ramon laughed. “Listen, amigo,” he said, his voice turning serious. “There are some people Jo and I would like you to meet.
Are you up for a little trip?”

“Sure,” Mano said, following Ramon outside.

A waning moon above the eastern horizon covered the desert with a ghostly light that gleamed like silver plating off the agaves
and acacias. Ramon led Mano through the dim landscape toward two battered buses Jo had rented to ferry many of the delegates
to Santiago. Nearing the weathered vehicles, Mano noticed one of the buses had a number of people inside.

The front door of the bus opened. “All aboard,” Jo said, grinning from behind the wheel. “The Santiago Express is about to
leave the terminal.”

The atmosphere aboard the bus was jovial, almost party-like, as they traveled south on the town’s only road. Mano was certain
most of those on the bus had not endured the grind of negotiating with the Reformers and were still giddy with the excitement
of the morning’s proceedings. In the dim light, Mano could make out a number of familiar faces. All of them were Marchistas.

After several miles, Jo pulled the bus onto the shoulder, lit a gas lantern, and rose to face those aboard. “Hermanos, what
we did today will go down in history. You have helped conceive a new nation.” Jo’s words were delivered slowly, with power
and dignity. “I guess that makes you a great bunch of fuckers, eh?” she added sweetly.

The men in the bus went wild at her raunchy joke, laughing so hard Mano found it impossible not to join in.

Jo waved her arms to calm the group down. “I want to salute you for the effort you gave today. Ramon told me the stares you
and your people gave the Reformers would have melted ice. This day would not have been possible without you.”

“Let’s hear it for the lady in the bell tower!” a voice called out, sparking a round of energetic cheers.

So that’s where Jo went
, Mano realized.

“Thank you,” Jo said, acknowledging the applause. “But we still have some unfinished business,” she said in a more somber
tone. “Creating a declaration of independence is only the first part of the challenge we face. We’ve asserted our moral right
to reclaim our land. In fact, we’ll petition the United Nations for recognition as a sovereign state. But we have to back
up our declaration with action. If we don’t, what we’ve done today will be just words on a piece of paper.”

Jo began pacing the aisle. “Now, let’s be realistic. The U.S. government has the resources to outlast us and the power to
outgun us. It’s not a case of a lightweight in the ring with a heavyweight. This is a fight between a lightweight and Godzilla.”

She paused as a number of the men laughed. “But if we don’t take action, we’ll be ignored by the media. And media attention
is how we’ll get the U.S. public to say, ‘These Hispanics are just too damned crazy. They’re too fanatical. Let them have
their territory. It’s the only way we’ll have peace.’ And that, hermanos, is how we’ll win.

“The U.S. government is overcommitted militarily right now,” Jo continued. “Their best-trained and best-equipped troops are
overseas. We’ll never have a better time.

“That’s why we need to plan a national offensive
now
. A day when we strike
together
across the entire United States. It will send a clear and unmistakable message: We are
united
. We are a
nation
,” she said, pounding her fist into her palm.

A wave of applause punctuated her statement.

Jo sat down, relinquishing the floor to Ramon.

“This blow we strike together must be seared into the memory of our enemies,” Ramon began. “We must choose a day that will
be remembered, a day that will define our cause, a day on whose anniversary future generations will speak of our struggle
with pride.” He paused. “And so I propose that we strike on the twentieth of May—the birthday of José Antonio Marcha.”

Ramon’s inspiration brought another vigorous round of cheers.

A large, swarthy man rose to speak. It was Octavio Perez, the activist who had spoken at the rally in Salazar Park. “Hermanos,
just as we have all gotten behind this declaration of independence, we all must get behind this action now. I can tell you
that we, the leaders of the resistance in San Antonio, will lay down our lives if necessary to advance the Marcha Offensive.
Is there anyone else with the cojones to join us?”

The swell of assenting voices filled the bus.

“My heart is warmed by your courage,” Ramon said humbly. “Now that you’ve decided to come to the party, amigos, it’s time
to dance with the devil and work out the details,” he said with a grin. “To do that, I’d like to turn these proceedings over
to a man whose wits and courage have shown he is eminently qualified to advise us in military matters. For those of you who
don’t already know him, I’d like to introduce our director of security in Los Angeles, Manolo Suarez—El Grande.”

Judging by the loud applause, the people aboard the bus knew something of Mano’s reputation. Mano rose and awkwardly acknowledged
their tribute.

Ramon then unfolded a large map of North America and addressed the delegates. “We need to coordinate the timing, location,
and type of attacks each of our organizations will undertake. I propose that Mano serve as an advisor and have the final decision
on any disputes. Do you agree?”

The group shouted their affirmation.

Ramon smiled at them serenely. “Good. Then let’s get to work.”

At dawn, the ramshackle bus lumbered slowly into Santiago, the passengers weary but satisfied. The tactical plans for the
Marcha Offensive were complete.

After nine days of intense deliberations, the assembly in Santiago reached a final agreement. Signed by all the delegates,
it was called La Declaración de Santiago—the Santiago Declaration. Authored by Josefina Maria Herrera, the document was divided
into four sections.

The first section listed the grievances of North America’s Hispanics against the U.S. government. Primary among these injustices
was the creation of the Relocation Communities and the Quarantine Zones.

The second section detailed the legitimacy of the Latino territorial claims to the former Hispanic regions currently under
United States control. Large portions of Arizona, California, Florida, New Mexico, and Texas were designated in the claim.
Following the stratagem drawn up by José Antonio Marcha, the document used the State of Israel as precedent for a displaced
people’s historical claim to their former territory. A special note was made that the United States was the first country
to recognize the sovereign status of Israel.

The third section outlined the structure of a provisional government, called La Republica Hispána de Norteamérica—the Hispanic
Republic of North America. This provisional government would petition for a seat in the United Nations. The delegates elected
a rotating set of U.N. representatives, and plans were drawn up for a constitutional convention, followed by popular elections
within one year after U.N. recognition.

The final section, as a concession to the Reformers, had two clauses. Clause one stated that if the United Nations did not
recognize the Hispanic Republic of North America, it would still grant the signers of the document diplomatic immunity under
international law. Clause two explained that in the event the Hispanic Republic of North America received U.N. recognition,
any Hispanics who chose to remain in the United States would retain all personal property and avoid criminal prosecution.

A copy of the Santiago Declaration was leaked to a local CBS affiliate in San Francisco two weeks after the document was signed.
Its release was delayed to give the delegates time to slip back across the border.

Less than two hours after the document arrived at the Bay Area station, the story was picked up by CBS for its national feed.
Before the day was over, the report would snowball into an avalanche of media coverage.

H
ank Evans’s phone had been ringing since he’d arrived at his office twenty minutes earlier. He’d been tempted to unplug the
desk unit or disconnect the ringer, but tampering with a CIA phone was a federal crime.